Drake’s arm draped along the top of the sofa, brushing against Shana’s shoulders and making her squirm in her seat. Still leaning close to her, he murmured, “I know how tormenting it is to not be able to act on primal instincts and physical needs. In this case, were it us required to stand perfectly still like that, the need for me would be to pump my cock in and out of your tight pussy. For you, the natural need would be to squeeze and milk my cock.”
She gasped again. This time it was a soft, sexy sound that was tinged not so much with shock as it was excitement.
She was quiet, and for a moment, he wondered if he’d gone too far. He watched her intently as her head slowly swiveled in his direction, her gaze meeting his. The flash of lust in her eyes was impossible to miss, but it was mixed with uncertainty and confusion. Yet for all her supposed insecurity, she didn’t look away from him. She did, however, lick her crimson-colored lips, which drove him absolutely wild.
Her enticing chest rose and fell with her accelerated breathing. She appeared stunned into silence, but so entranced she couldn’t tear her gaze from his. Two minutes passed. They continued to stare at each other. Drake saw the curtain drop from the corner of his eye and Jane turned the sound up a notch as the models succumbed to the natural desire to finish what they’d started.
One let out a low groan.
“Suck me hard,” another said in a strained voice.
The model positioned between the other two did as instructed as the man behind him pumped his cock into him while gripping his hips. The fake plant on the “glass shelf” took a violent tumble to the stage floor.
Sharp grunts and lusty groans filled the quiet office in which a now-captive audience of three sat. Shana broke her gaze with Drake, though he still studied her closely as her attention shifted to the flat panel above the fireplace.
He could see what happened onscreen from his peripheral vision and was completely in tune to how Shana reacted to it. Her body was rigid as she sat perfectly still on the sofa, her back ramrod straight. She’d set her purse on the coffee table when she’d accepted her glass of champagne from Jane and now wrapped one hand around the stem of the crystal flute and one around the bowl, surprisingly not shattering it with what appeared to be a tight grip.
Her breathing was shallow and she pressed her legs together as she watched the threesome behind the red curtain.
The model fucking the bent-over partner reached around and wrapped his long fingers around his lover’s cock, his hand feverishly stroking the erect penis in time with his quick, forceful bucking.
“That’s it,” the man receiving the blowjob said. “Fuck him harder. He takes me deeper each time.”
“Oh!” The word seemed to fall unbidden from Shana’s parted lips. Her eyes widened and Drake saw another patch of pink on her flawless skin as it crept up her neck. She swallowed hard and her pulse jumped at her throat, tempting Drake.
He didn’t drink human blood anymore, but that did not keep him from craving a taste of hers.
A dangerous yearning, to be sure. But a natural compulsion he couldn’t help.
He tore his gaze from the beauty beside him and focused on the screen as he sought a distraction from his errant and torturous thoughts. Her blood wasn’t the only thing he wanted to taste. Her scent was intoxicating—downright mouthwatering, in fact. He was painfully aroused, his cock straining against the confining material of his boxer-style briefs and his suit pants.
Sitting so close to her was hardly wise. His arm along the back of the sofa could easily drape over her bare shoulders. His fingers burned to touch her skin. He’d already learned it was warm and supple. Simply holding her hand for the two brief times he had made him desperate to stroke every inch of bare skin that covered her gorgeous curves.
He fought the temptation, though. No easy feat. Somehow, he managed to summon enough willpower to keep from reaching over and grazing his fingers along the line of bronze flesh exposed by the high slit in her dress.
His diversionary tactic of watching the models didn’t work. The onscreen action wasn’t particularly stimulating to him, so his thoughts continued to drift to Shana, sitting right beside him, her nipples pebbled tight and tenting the satin material of her dress. Her breathing was uneven and her pulse raced, as evidenced by the vein in her neck that kept drawing his attention.
The voices echoing in his dimly lit, cozy office rose as the thrusting and sucking and stroking reached a fevered pitch and the sexual tension mounted.
“Fuck that tight ass,” said the model whose cock was in the mouth of the one being fucked. “I’m going to come.” His fingers were twined in his partner’s hair, making the painted strands stick out in all directions.