NaturesBounty(11)

He tensed, poised for action when she started moving in the direction of the fire escape. A dark-green couch sat in front of the coffee table, and she stopped there with her back still to him while she picked up the glass on the table.

Nate cleared his throat and glanced toward the single hallway. “The request was made for a private show,” he finally managed while his eyes snapped right back to the hot ass he was thinking more and more about bending over his knee. “Is there anyone else here that will be joining the party?”

“You are the party,” she said over her shoulder, tossing back the last bit of booze in her glass. “That’s about as private as it gets, don’t you think? Just you and me.”

Do it now. Identify yourself and grab the cuffs. Better yet, get out the cuffs while her back is turned and then identify yourself.

He reached quietly for his pocket.

“Tell me something, Antoine,” she said, setting the empty glass down and fiddling with the narrow strings at the back of her swimsuit. “Do any of your clients ever strip for you? Outside the bedroom, of course.” The drunken slur made the last part sound like, “Aside the bear rum, uh cores.”

His hand was halfway in his pocket when she yanked the strings on her top and whirled on him suddenly. Nate froze while she held the bikini top out in front of her like a prize before tossing it to the floor.

The way his eyes were bugging out must have looked comical, but how the fuck could he help it? Oh glory, but were her tits magnificent, even rounder and fuller now that they were no longer constrained by scraps of fabric. Her nipples were pink and firm, pointing slightly upward as if urging his mouth down to taste them. His erection stiffened rapidly, thick and long enough to feel the tip shove rudely through the edge of his G-string.

Lydia sidled up to him while glancing at the hand still stuffed in the duffel bag. “I’m sure Valerie paid you well for a hot, sexy routine, and you had to drag that radio up here and all. But since it’s been one hell of a lousy birthday and a crappy dating year in general, why don’t we skip the opening ceremonies and go straight for the gold?”

She took the bag from him and dropped it carefully to the neutral-toned carpet. Nate’s hand jerked out of his pocket, and he caught the metallic clink of the cuffs. Lydia seemed too intent on him to notice.

As she closed the distance between them, his stare redirected from her breasts to her heavy-lidded bedroom eyes. He fell right into their smoldering depths. Without breaking eye contact, she went straight for the kill and grabbed him through his slacks. Her touch was firm and demanding as she groped him, and she let out an appreciative-sounding moan.

“Feels like this party has already started,” she said thickly, and he felt her fumbling clumsily with his fly.

Sweat beaded on his forehead as Nate felt reason slipping away. Stop her, you idiot! Push her away and identify yourself. Identify yourself now.

That’s when he heard his zipper open, and her hand snaked right inside his G-string. Her gasp wasn’t the only one in response to her warm fingers curling around his throbbing dick.

“God,” she said, “please tell me this is part of the special birthday package.”

She sank to her knees in front of him while he tried to cling to what little flotsam of morals he had left. Jesus, he wasn’t more than ten steps in the door and the sexiest woman alive was seducing him. If he let her, she’d probably fuck him where he stood. He could bend her right over the table beside them and ram his cock inside her, thong and all.

Or, he could stop thinking with his tool and do what he’d come there for. He should bend her over the table while he cuffed her hands behind her back, not so he could give his dick what it so desperately wanted.

She yanked the pouch aside, and the second his cock sprang free, wet, hot lips closed over the swollen head. The moan he let out was equal parts lust and anger at himself, and while his hands automatically grabbed for her head to pull her off, her skilled mouth and wicked tongue drove him to do something quite different. His fingers threaded into her hair while he thrust deeper in her mouth, cursing under his breath with each press of his hips. This was wrong, so very, incredibly wrong. But it had been so very, incredibly long since he’d felt anything this good.

His slacks were still on while she mouth-fucked him, but her hands kept tugging on his belt until the buckle came free. His pants slid down around his knees, and he shook his head in a futile attempt to deny what was happening. He couldn’t do this, no matter how bad she obviously wanted it. No matter that she was apparently in the same boat as he was romance-wise. And that this was probably the last sex she’d get outside prison dykes and the occasional twisted guard.