by Lisa Fox
He considered it for a moment and then shook his head. “Um, no. I’m afraid it’s all or nothing.”
She looked around at the people, the mad revelry. Was she seriously going to expose herself in the middle of Bourbon Street? Apparently she was. “Okay,” she said. “But no touching. You can look and that’s it.”
His grin grew wider and he nodded. “Fine.”
She held his gaze for a moment longer, then dropped her eyes down to look at her jeans. She unbuttoned the top button slowly, letting him savor the moment. He braced his arms on either side of her again and leaned over into her space. The scent of his cologne filled her head, making her giddy. He looked down at her crotch and then met her eyes again. Bailey smiled back. The sound of her zipper going down seemed very loud in their closed little world of space. Bourbon Street was far away, there was only him and her, and what was to come.
She peeled back the corner of her jeans, revealing her black lace panties, the second part of her good-sex-mojo set. So far, the magic was holding strong. She hooked her thumbs through the belt loops and pushed them slowly down.
The air between them was thick and fully charged. She felt rather than heard his breath catch and when she met his gaze, his eyes were dark, hooded. His fingers ghosted down the curve of her stomach, close enough to feel the heat, but not touching her at all. When he plucked the waistband of her underwear between his thumb and forefinger, Bailey went completely liquid. The heat in her pussy was so intense she was surprised her panties didn’t spontaneously combust.
He leaned over a little farther, ready to take a peek, when boos and jeers rippled through the crowd. People began to assemble in the middle of the street, and she quickly zipped up her pants, crookedly buttoned her shirt. Her new friend took her hand and guided her through the gathering crowd. Everyone seemed to be looking toward Canal for some reason, and they bobbed and weaved, trying to see what was happening.
He stood up on his toes, craning his neck, but quit after a few moments with a shake of his head. “I can’t see anything.”
Still dazed from their encounter, her mind reeling, she was not prepared for him to suddenly lift her off the ground. She let out an undignified squeak as she rose, one she fiercely hoped he did not hear. He bounced her higher and she grabbed his shoulder to keep from toppling over. His muscles flexed as he shifted her weight, the hard sinew rippling under her palm. Catcalls rolled through the crowd again, and what she found when she looked up was not a welcome sight at all. Down toward the beginning of Bourbon Street was a line of horseback policemen leading an army of street cleaners. She sighed. The party was officially over.
“What’s going on?” he asked, tapping her lightly on the butt.
Her lips puckered. “They’re shutting down Bourbon Street.”
He set her back down on the ground. “They do that?”
Bailey nodded. “They do on Mardi Gras night. It’s tradition. We’re all supposed to stop sinning and start repenting on Ash Wednesday—you know, at midnight.”
He looked down into her eyes. “I’m not done sinning yet.”
She smiled up at him. “Me neither.”
“Good,” he said, wrapping his arm around her waist. “Let’s continue this in my hotel room.”
That sounded like a very good plan indeed. “Okay.”
They headed toward Canal, passing dozens of people, some dressed, some not so much. People in costumes, people in masks, people in shorts and melting body paint. And there were beads everywhere, hanging from the people, the lampposts and balconies, sitting in the gutters and on the sidewalks, resting in puddles of unknown substances.
A throaty female moan floated over the crowd, catching their attention. They turned toward the sound and found a small group gathered in front of a doorway right off Bourbon, surrounding a woman with her breasts exposed, her skirt hiked up around her bellybutton. The man she was with had her hands locked above her head and her legs were spread wide apart. People were taking pictures, recording videos, generally gawking.
“Hot,” Bailey’s friend said, standing close behind her.
“Yeah,” she answered, unable to keep the breathlessness out of in her voice. His cock pressed against her ass, an erotic pressure that made her insides hum.
The man squeezed the woman’s breast and then ran his hand down her torso. He grinned to his audience and then slid two fingers inside her. The crowd sighed when she moaned. Her hips arched, welcoming the man’s fingers, and she rocked in time with the rhythm he set.
“I want to touch you like that,” Bailey’s companion whispered in her ear, his breath hot on her throat. His hand moved down, over her thigh. “I bet you’re nice and tight and wet.”
She moaned with the other woman when his hand slipped between her legs. He traced the seam of her jeans, and her hips bucked from the jolt of pleasure.
The woman’s legs quivered, and Bailey knew by the look on her face that she was about to come. The man fingered her harder, and she writhed, wildly humping his hand. Bailey’s companion bit down on her earlobe and gave her pussy a squeeze. White-hot lust assaulted her senses, and she almost came right along with the other woman.
“I’m going to—” her friend began, but was cut off by the blaring siren from approaching police brigade.
Bailey’s heart was thumping in her chest, she was aching, needy, but this was not the time or the place for satisfaction. She tugged on his hand, guiding him away. There was no need to get caught up in the inevitable mess that would ensue once the cops saw what everyone was up to. He laced his fingers through hers and took the lead, whisking her toward Canal Street and his hotel room.
Chapter Two
Bailey laughed as they crossed the threshold of the hotel. Her companion held her hand tightly, navigating them through the crowded lobby toward the elevator bank. She felt drunk, wonderfully lightheaded and very ready to take on whatever else the night had to offer. He pressed the button for the elevator, and she studied him as they waited, drinking in the strong line of his jaw, the breadth of his shoulders, the long column of this throat—all the many good places to lick.
He must have felt the intensity of her stare because he turned to her with a lopsided smile that only made him more handsome. “What?”
She smiled back and shook her head. He was going to find out everything she had been thinking soon enough. “What’s your name?” she asked instead.
He raised one eyebrow. “Are you sure you want to go there?”
A valid question, but it still caused a sharp twinge of disappointment in her heart. She had slept with enough nameless tourists over the course of her bartending career to know the rules of a one-night stand. Keep it simple, keep it casual, and above all else, never, even for even a second, believe that it would ever be anything more than a one-night stand. There was no excuse for foolish sentimentality. She shrugged one shoulder, tying to play off her gaffe as coolly as possible. “It doesn’t matter. I’d just like to be able to call you something other than, ‘Hey you’.”
He paused for a long moment and she prayed that she hadn’t totally fucked up the night. But then he smiled and ran his fingers lightly through her hair. “My name is Rick.”
A group of rowdy college kids joined them and they fell silent, waiting side by side for the elevator. Part of her was thrilled that he had told her his name, but another part, the shrewd, old, bitter part, noted that he didn’t care to know hers. Regardless of whatever he made her feel or however good he might be in bed, she was nowhere near desperate or stupid enough to offer her name without him asking for it. That was not the way it worked. She knew what the night was about. She had no illusions.
He gave her hand a tug when the elevator arrived, leading her inside, and then off again when they stopped at his floor. Her pulse did a little tango when he slid the keycard into the lock. He held open the door for her, and she entered the room. It was pretty standard—beige walls, anonymous art, desk, dresser, bed.
The so
und of the door snapping shut behind then resonated deep in her pussy. She turned to him, and in two long strides he had her in his arms. In the next instant, his mouth was on hers, a tender kiss that quickly escalated into something explosive. She opened for him, her jaw relaxing as he delved into her mouth.
They kissed and kissed until he pulled back with a sigh, cupped her face in his hand, and looked into her eyes. He ran his thumb over her cheek, his gaze deep and considering. “You are very beautiful,” he said, his voice soft.
The awe in his tone undid something inside her, melted some of the hard nugget of bitterness that dwelled in her heart. She wanted to collapse in his arms, swoon like a lady of old, fall into his strong embrace, be his woman. And that was a bad, bad thought. She was never going to learn his last name.
He held her gaze, the intensity of their connection multiplying with each passing second. She needed to put an end to this. This night was supposed to be about fun. Sex. Sinning. All these “feelings” were getting in the way of the goal. She dropped her gaze and curled her finger around the last strand of beads around his neck. “I believe these belong to me now.”
He laughed, and the remaining tension dispersed, transforming back into a more lighthearted mood. “You didn’t actually earn them. As I recall, we were interrupted.”
Bailey feigned outrage. “I hardly think that was my fault.”
Rick shrugged. “Be that as it may, the terms of the agreement were not fulfilled.” He took the beads from her grasp and smoothed them back down on his chest. “Of course, if you still want them, we could always strike up a new bargain.”
She took a step back and put on a serious face. “I’m listening.”
“Well, as I said, I require something a bit more for these beads, an extra offering.” He leered at her and though it was comical, it also fueled the flame simmering in her core. “I need to see something very, very good. Something that will leave a lasting impression.”
She folded her arms under her breasts. “You aren’t impressed already?”
He held up his hands in a placating gesture. “No, I’m impressed. I just want to see what else you’ve got.”
“Uh-huh,” she said, giving him a hard time. “So, what are you proposing?”
He grinned wickedly. “Why don’t you start taking things off, and I’ll let you know when you can stop.”
“You’re going to tell me when I can stop?” She couldn’t believe how cocky he was. And how much she liked it.
“Yeah,” he said and sat down on the bed. He waved his hand. “Begin.”
She chuckled, but a sudden nervousness made her hesitate. It was a foreign sensation, something she did not like at all. Even worse, she didn’t know why she was being weird—she fully intended to sleep with him after all. He was going to have to see her naked for that to properly occur. But he was watching her so intently. It was…intimidating.
“Oh, no,” he said, pulling her toward him, and then positioning her to stand between his legs. “Don’t be shy now.” His hands slid up the back of her thighs to cup her ass. “Show me something good.”
She placed her hands on his shoulders and looked down into his eyes. He was so incredibly handsome, and he just exuded strength and confidence. He made her feel safe, desired, a little bit wild. This night would have been very different if someone else had found her on Bourbon Street. She caressed his shoulders and then ran her hands along his biceps. The muscles were just made for fondling, every ridge, every dip was solid and strong. She ran her fingertips lightly down the back of his arms and his grip tightened on her ass, pulling her closer.
She leaned in for a kiss and when he lifted his chin, she danced away, twirling out of his arms. He wanted something good? She had that. The beads had to come off first, and she lifted them over her head, placed them on the nightstand. He watched, rapt, as she unbuttoned her shirt, slowly revealing her collarbones, her bra, her ribs, stomach, bellybutton. It fell to the floor behind her without a sound. His lips parted when she unhooked the bra clasp, his eyes glassy as her breasts spilled out of the lacy undergarment. She twirled her bra around her finger and then tossed it at him in a faux-sexy, mock stripper move.
Rick laughed as he caught it, fingering the cup. “Do I get to keep this?”
She shook her head. “Only if you’re planning on wearing it.”
He held it up to his chest. “I don’t think it’s my color.” He placed it carefully aside on the bed. “Come here a second.”
There was something mischievous in his eyes and Bailey smiled. She stepped back between his thighs, and his arms encircled her waist, drawing her closer. His hands moved up the curve of her body to cup her breasts. His skin was rough, the texture at odds with his gentle caress, making her nipples insanely hard. He took his time, thoroughly feeling her up, enjoying making her writhe.
She closed her eyes, letting the sensations course through her. Her pussy thrummed with a low ache that radiated through her belly. His hot, wet tongue laved and teased her nipple before he took into his mouth, making her moan deep back in her throat. Her fingers dug into his back as he suckled her, her body on fire for him.
He gave her one last lick, pressed a kiss between her breasts and leaned back again. He tugged on the waistband of her jeans. “Take them off.”
Electric fire raced from the top of her head, down to her toes. Slowly, ever so slowly, she unzipped her jeans. She pushed them down over her hips, her thighs, her calves, watching him as he watched her, and then she let them fall to the floor. She kicked them aside, removed her shoes. His erection strained against the zipper of his jeans, a huge bulge that she wanted to free. Everything in her ached to be filled, and her eyes fixed on his cock.
He noticed the direction of her stare and smiled. “I can’t wait to be inside you,” he said, holding her gaze while he stroked himself over his jeans. “Get naked for me.”
Her throat went dry even as she got wetter. If he kept this up, she might end up suffering from some extreme dehydration. The thought tickled her, and she smirked as she hooked her thumb under the waistband of her panties. She pulled them away from her body, stretching out the fabric as far as it would go before slowly lowering them down her legs.
He stood up and took her into his arms. She gasped as he plunged his tongue deep into her mouth, her senses overwhelmed by the sudden onslaught. His hands roamed over her, groping, squeezing, stroking. His touch was rough, urgent and the friction of his clothing against her naked, sensitive skin, heightened her fevered libido. She clung to him, clutching at his T-shirt, an infuriating barrier between her and the warm expanse of his chest. When he parted from her, she was panting, too dazed by the force of his kiss to do anything more than stand there while he took the beads off his neck and placed them the around hers.
Bailey laughed even as she tried to catch her breath. “Oh, have I earned these now?”
“Yeah,” he said, stroking her hair. “You did.”
She ran her hands down his back to grab the best ass she had ever had the pleasure of squeezing. His cock hot and thick against her pelvis. He needed to be naked, fucking her—now. She slipped her hands under his shirt and raked her fingernails over the small of his back. “You should be naked too.”
He kneaded her breast, toying and teasing her nipple, each pluck escalating the intensity of the heat roaring through her veins. His lips ghosted over her flushed skin as he nuzzled her throat. All the fine hairs on her body stood up as chills raced over her. “You want me naked?”
“I do,” she said, tugging on his shirt.
He helped her lift it off over his head. “Are you going to have your way with me?”
“Absolutely.” She finally got to see the dog tags she had only felt before. They looked good in the center of his broad chest, adding a distinct appeal. He was a slab of muscle, his abs perfectly defined. Dark hair dusted his pecs, traveled down the center of his stomach, disappeared down into his jeans. He even had that line of muscle right at his hips,
the one separating his torso from his legs. She didn’t know what it was called, but it made her wild. It was her favorite place to lick a man. She ran her hands over him, loving the feel of his skin, the muscles flexing under her touch.
He let her explore for a bit, but then took her hand and brought it to his crotch. The bulk of him overfilled her palm and her pussy thumped, demanding him now. He moaned against her neck when she squeezed and bit down on her shoulder. “Get me naked.”
She was already fumbling with the button fly on his pants before he could get all the words out. The first button revealed that he was not wearing any underwear, the second uncovered a thatch of dark hair. She raked her fingers through the wiry patch, the hair both soft and coarse against her palm. The third button freed him, and the fourth let her slide his pants down and out of the way.
She stroked him, his cock long and hard, the skin silky and warm. His arms tightened around her when she pumped him, his fingers digging into her ass. There was strength in his grip, restrained power. All those muscles were not just for show. He could easily overpower her if he wanted to, and while that thought should have been scary, it was actually extremely thrilling.
She ran her thumb of the head of his cock and he breathed in sharply. His hands came up, cupping her face. Raw desire darkened his eyes. He kissed her hard, his tongue going deep, possessing her. She answered the kiss with unrestrained passion, meeting his tongue stroke for stroke.
With a guttural moan, he broke away from her. He put his hands on her shoulders, squeezed. “Suck me.”
His fingers twined in her hair as she went to her knees before him. She looked up at him, meeting his gaze, and ran her tongue along the entire length of his cock. His taste exploded on her lips, making her mouth water. Feral satisfaction filled her chest when his eyes went glassy and his grip tightened on her hair. She licked his balls, the musky scent of him filling her head. His moans inspired her and she circled the base of his cock with her tongue, then slowly, carefully, with meticulously loving detail, licked her way to his swollen head.
