One Hot Night: A New Orleans Nights Story

by Devlin, Delilah

  The second she took him into her mouth, he groaned. The feel of his hot skin against her tongue was drugging. She tasted his essence at the tiny slit then tickled the slit with the tip of her tongue.

  When his fingers pulled on her hair, she shook her head and took him deeper into her mouth, letting his girth fill the empty cavern and his satin skin caress her tongue. Up and down she bobbed, twisting her hands in the moisture she produced until he bent his knees and began to pump into her mouth.

  When she lifted her head, he held out his arms. She crawled up his body and opened her legs, rubbing her sex against the hard, thick ridge. “Tell me you have a condom.”

  Like magic, he held out one. “Had it in my pocket. Let me watch.”

  She took it, opened it, then rolled it down his length. Then she tossed back her hair and mounted him. Using short dips and swirls of her hips, she rode his cock downward then ground forward and back, pleasuring herself.

  When his hands cupped her breasts and tweaked the tips, she smiled and began moving up and down. The room retreated. Their breaths were the only sounds she noticed—getting louder, raspier. He kept one hand on a breast and slid fingers down to the top of her sex to circle her clitoris.

  She whimpered and held still for a long moment, savoring the feel of him, so thick inside her, the coiling tension at her core. “I can’t move,” she whispered. “Feels so good.”

  He gripped her waist and moved her beside him then shifted again to kneel behind her. With a gentle shove between her shoulders, he forced her to her hands and knees.

  She widened her stance and tilted up her hips. His hands cupped her ass then moved upward to clutch the notches of her hips while his cock pressed against her pussy, found her entrance, then slid inside.

  They both moaned as he began to move, thrusting deeply, tunneling through her wet, swollen channel. When he increased his pace, she fisted her hands in the comforter and pushed back to meet his thrusts, liking the sounds they made together, the slick slaps and deep, grunting breaths.

  When he reached around to toggle her clit again, she reached deep between her legs to cup his balls then ring his cock, wanting to feel what she couldn’t see. The strength of his movements, the steel of his shaft, made her feel infinitely more feminine and vulnerable, but in a good way. She liked having someone so virile taking her.

  At last, she felt the tightening inside her as she approached the zenith. “Almost there,” she gasped.

  He moved until he draped his torso over her back. Then braced on his arms, he increased the speed of his thrusts again, giving her shorter bursts, ones so hard his balls banged against her.

  Stacia sank her back, raising her pussy higher, inviting him to slam against her sex, and that adjustment was just enough to send her hurtling over the edge. She let out a shout then held her breath as a wave of pleasure rushed over, leaving her feeling as weak as a baby. She collapsed to the bed.

  Remy thrust three more times then shouted. She smiled at the sound then again, as before, slept.

  Chapter 7

  Later, Remy held Stacia as she began to stir in his arms. She moaned softly and stretched, which pushed her ass against his cock.

  He admitted it wouldn’t take much to get him revved for another round, but he really did need to speak with her, and he needed rest. As well, as soon as he finished telling her how things had to go down that evening, she likely wouldn’t be in the mood for any more fun time with him.

  Too bad about that. He liked her. Hell, he found everything about her to his liking—her slender blonde looks, her lively wit and humor, her mile-wide stubborn streak. He could envision many nights when that stubbornness might lead to an argument that would inevitably have to lead to him getting in the last word by getting her underneath him.

  Yeah, he liked the thoughts of that.

  “You still here?” she groused.

  He swatted her hip. “That’s not the way you say thank you.”

  She turned to face him, a smirk on her lips. “I’m supposed to thank you? I was the one who got your balls rolling with my better-than-fine blowjob.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “Okay, I’ll give you points for the blowjob. But I get double points for stamina.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “My sore pussy concedes.”

  He smoothed a hand over the curve of her hip. “You’re sore down there?”

  “Not going to talk about my lady parts—it’s daylight,” she said, pointing at the light gleaming around the edges of the curtains.

  “There’s rules about when you can talk about your lady parts?”

  “Uh huh. I’m shy like that.”

  He chuckled. “I’d kiss you, but I forgot a toothbrush.”

  “Nothin’ says you have to kiss my mouth.” She waggled her eyebrows.

  Damn, it would be so easy to give into the need already surging south, but he had to talk to her. “Stace, we have to talk.”

  “Not Stacey, now?” She pulled up the sheet to cover her breasts. “Must be serious.”

  She patted down her hair and stacked pillows behind her back.

  He waited until she went still. “I have something I have to ask you. And you have to tell me straight.”

  Her gaze slid away, and she gave a shrug. “Shoot.”

  “How did you get inside last night?”

  Her gaze shot back to him, and she arched an eyebrow. “I don’t rat out my sources.”

  “This isn’t about gettin’ anyone fired. I’m serious. How did you get inside the convention center? There was security on all the entrances.”

  She frowned and pressed her lips together.

  Remy pinched the bridge of his nose. He knew she wasn’t going to give him anything unless he gave her something back. “Look, something went down last night. Something serious. It’s gonna be all over the news anyway. Someone was murdered. Tell me how you got inside.”

  She blinked. “One of the guests?”

  He frowned. “I can’t say. Police and FBI are still investigatin’.”

  Her lips pursed for a second, her frown deepened. “Am I going to be pulled in for questioning?”

  “Shouldn’t be any need. You have an alibi—me. However, those investigatin’ will want to know how you made it inside, just in case that’s how this murder went down.”

  “Not a guest…?”

  When he shook his head, she drew a breath. “A waiter let me inside. I gave him a hundred to open a door off the kitchen. He also cut the feed to the camera in the alley, so I could get in without being seen.”

  Remy sighed. “This waiter have a name, Stace?”

  Her gaze locked with his. “Not a guest, you said. A waiter?”

  He nodded.

  She closed her eyes for a brief second then looked at him. “My guy, his name is Billy Porter.”

  His jaw tightened, and he looked away, but she must have read something in his expression, because she gasped.

  “Stace,” he said, reaching out a hand to grip her arm, “there’s more goin’ on than you know. I have to ask you to stay away tonight. Far away.”

  “Are you?” she shot back.

  “I have to be there.”

  “Well, I have a job to do, too. I know you don’t think much of it, but I take it seriously. If there’s something happening, someone has to bear witness and let people know.”

  He blew out a breath, knowing that arguing with her wasn’t going to get her to agree. “There will be more security on every exit, even on those that are supposed to be locked up tight. You won’t have any way in.”

  She lifted her chin. “We’ll see about that. What about the attendees? Are they going to be told?”

  “Of course. Maybe some of them will decide to leave early, but many of them have their own bodyguards. This might be par for the course for these guys.”

  “Was that all?” she asked.

  Deciding he’d said everything he needed, and frustrated he hadn’t gotten through to her, he moved to the side of
the bed and lowered his feet to the floor.

  “Where are you going?”

  He glanced back at her. “Leaving. That’s what you want me to do, right?”

  Stacia rolled her eyes. “Only if you’re the kind of guy who expects a girl to roll over when he gives an order.” She tilted her head. “Seriously? Did you think you were really going to get me to agree to stay away? A big story like this?”

  He studied her for a moment, surprised at himself, really. He should be feeling a little hot under the collar. His job was to protect, and she was refusing guidance that would keep her safe. However, he knew he’d respect her a lot less if she had instantly conceded. “I expected you’d say exactly what you did.”

  “And yet, you’re here, in my bed, anyway. So, either you’re a complete asshole who wanted an easy lay before blowing out of here, or…”

  “Or?” he asked, his lips twitching because hers were beginning to curve.

  “Or…you like me the way I am.”

  He wrinkled his nose. “You’re smarter than I thought you were.”

  She laughed. “Don’t let my report card fool you.” She went to her knees and came closer, sliding across his lap to sit sideways, an arm around his shoulder.

  He held her naked body and looked down into her green eyes. They were half-closed and slanting as she looked back at him.

  “Neither of us got much sleep last night,” she said, walking her fingers along the edge of his jaw.

  “Sleep’s overrated,” he murmured then quickly turned his head and closed his teeth around one digit.

  She grinned. “I have something better for you to bite.”

  He closed his lips around her finger and drew back his head, sucking as he left. “Never let it be said that a Cyr ever backed down from a challenge.”

  He stood and let her feet slide down to the floor. Then he backed her up to the wall. Their faces were so close their noses touched. Without giving her warning, he cupped her buttocks and jerked her upward. She quickly wrapped her legs around his hips. He searched with his cock until he found her entrance then pressed forward and up, spearing into her hot pussy.

  Damn, she felt good! Then, “Fuck!” he bit out. He’d forgotten something he never did.

  “Condom,” she gasped, but her legs cinched tighter. “Just…don’t move for a second,” she said and laid her cheek on his shoulder.

  He felt a rippling shudder move through her body. Gritting his teeth, he held still, savoring the feel of her surrounding his dick—all slick and hot. “We keep doin’ this,” he said, “I’ll want it like this all the time.”

  She nuzzled his neck. “Condoms are in my bathroom.”

  “Okay, I’ll have to let you down.”

  “Why?”

  He blinked then smiled.

  Her own grin was quick in coming.

  With their bodies locked together, he backed away from the wall and strode to the bathroom. There, he sat her on the counter without withdrawing. “Which drawer?”

  “To your right. Top.”

  He pulled it open. “Don’t see it.”

  “Box in the back. Gotta reach.”

  Reaching meant twisting, which changed the angle of his cock inside her.

  She groaned and bit his shoulder. “Hurry.”

  He felt inside the drawer and found a box. Dragging it out, he held it up for her. When she snatched it away, he gripped her waist, ready to hold her there while he backed away, but she dropped the box.

  Their gazes locked.

  “We should be smart,” he said, while inside he was cursing up a storm.

  “I had my annual checkup three months ago. I’m clean. And I’m on the pill.”

  “No boyfriends since?”

  She shook her head.

  He drew a deep breath. “We should still be smart. Nothin’s foolproof.”

  “Don’t think smart’s something we can manage when we’re horny. You clean?”

  He nodded. He’d been to the clinic before he’d started dating a teacher, but he’d never made it to first base before she’d eloped with the football coach. “Still have to pull out.”

  She screwed up her face. “Why?”

  “We’ve got a mirror,” he said, chucking his chin toward the glass behind her.

  “Oh shit,” she said, slapping his shoulder. “You’re looking at my ass, aren’t you?”

  “Yeah, but I want to watch your boobs jiggle while I fuck you from behind.”

  She huffed. “Not fair. I want to watch your ass flex while you do me.”

  He shrugged. “Guess we’ll have to do it twice.”

  “Good idea.”

  Then he stepped back, waited for her to hop down, then bent her over the counter—only she was little too short, so she grabbed a footstool from under the sink before stepping up and presenting her ass.

  Remy cupped her buttocks. “Can’t spread your feet without falling off.”

  “Then maybe I should crouch on the counter, and you should stand on the stool to reach me.”

  “Good idea,” he said, trying not to laugh, because anyone seeing them would scratch their head.

  By the time she got her balance, he reached past her shoulder to plant a hand on the mirror, gripped her hip, and thrust deep. The gymnastics were worth it.

  “I can see you come inside me,” she whispered, her gaze going to her open thighs in the mirror.

  He began to pump against her, jerking a little at the end of each stroke. “I like makin’ ’em jiggle.”

  She turned to kiss his forearm then braced both hands against the glass as they both watched, eyes unblinking as Remy pumped against her.

  “I like this,” she whispered, dragging in air as though trying to catch her breath.

  “Me, too,” he said. “You’re game for anything. I’ll be dreamin’ up new ways to fuck you.”

  “Do I always make that face?” she asked, her gaze now on her own reflection.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Like I’m dying. My jaw kinda sags.” She tucked her chin closer to her chest.

  “Yeah. Tells me I’m doin’ it right. Play with your tit.”

  She arched a brow but moved a hand from the glass and cupped her breast, spreading her fingers so the tip of her nipple was visible. He watched her squeeze the little globe.

  “Tug on your nipple. Do what feels good,” he said, getting into a rhythm he thought he could maintain for a bit.

  She pinched the tip between her thumb and forefinger, stretched it outward, then let it go to bounce back. Then she smacked the underside of her breast, which made the soft flesh quiver.

  “Again,” he said, hammering faster because, now, she was biting her lower lip and her nostrils were flaring, and he’d never seen anything as sexy as her pleasuring herself while her gaze was locked on him, reaming her pussy.

  “Need two stools,” he gritted out. “Want to spread my legs. More power,” he said, grunting as he pounded.

  “A ledge. I’ll have a handyman build a fucking ledge.”

  “Can’t…keep…this…up.” He pulled back and helped her down from the counter.

  She shivered head to toe, so he knew he had to hurry. She’d been close.

  Facing her, he drew her body up again, waited while she wrapped her legs around him, and then he turned to hold her against the wall. “See my ass?” he growled.

  “Yes!”

  With some effort, he got his arms under her thighs, spread her, and then using the wall to slide her up and down, he fucked her hard.

  “Remy…God…” She clawed his back. “Now!”

  He spread her wider and jackhammered against her as she came, bouncing in his arms.

  When he slowed, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders.

  He leaned his head against hers, grunting in her ear as he came. He’d never felt so wrung out. Not ever.

  When he halted all movement, their chests heaved.

  Stacia bracketed his face with her soft palms and
brought him in for a kiss. “A mirror on the ceiling over my bed,” she whispered when she drew back.

  “Liked watching?” he asked, giving her a crooked smile.

  “It was…inspiring.”

  He laughed, and she joined him.

  “Think we can nap a bit?” she said, a yawn stretching her mouth.

  “Yeah, but set an alarm. You wore me out.”

  Chapter 8

  “Nice piece on the guests. Not too stodgy,” Winston said. “But did you hear anything about the murder?”

  Stacia had emailed her article, including Emil’s photos, not wanting to take a chunk out of her dwindling afternoon to head downtown.

  She and Remy had awoken shortly after one when his phone had blown up.

  He’d frowned as he’d read the messages. “I have to go.”

  “Ballard calling you in early?”

  “No, the chief.”

  “Thought you were on leave.”

  “I am. It’s about the murder. They need read in on what I’ve been doin’.” He leaned over her and gave her a kiss. “Have to go.” Then he’d tapped her nose. “Stay away tonight.”

  “I’m not making any promises I don’t intend to keep. It’s your job to make sure I can’t get in.”

  He’d shaken his head. “Stubborn.”

  “But you like that about me,” she’d smiled.

  “Yeah, I do.”

  After he’d left, she’d ambled to her computer and written her article, sighing because it wasn’t the one she’d really wanted to write, but there was no way in hell she’d get anywhere near any press conference, even if the PD and FBI were going to hold one. Besides, a murder in New Orleans wasn’t big news. A murder that had some connection with an important international conference… Well, that wasn’t something anyone really knew about. Not yet, anyway. And she didn’t have press credentials. The guys who worked the news desk had those. She was only responsible for fluff pieces. She had yet to earn her “wings”. Her uncle had never given her any special hand up for being family, and she wouldn’t have accepted it. She was determined to earn her own way.