by Lisa Fox
“Good girl,” he murmured when she took him into her mouth. “Just like that.”
He began to rock his hips, gently encouraging her while she sucked him. His cock glided over her tongue, pushing deep into her throat. She took as much of him as she could into her mouth, stroking him in time with the rhythm he set.
He pushed her away with a strangled groan, taking his cock out of her mouth all too soon. She reached for him, but he gripped her chin and forced her to look up at him. “When I come, it’s going to be in your pussy.”
Bailey’s insides clenched, wanting him with the fiercest desire she had ever known.
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” He ran this thumb over her bottom lip and grinned when she licked the pad. “Damn, you’re so fucking hot.” He tugged on the beads around her neck and tilted his head to the right. “Get on the bed.”
She held his gaze and rose her to feet, her assent slow and purposely seductive. She brushed her fingertips over his chest as she circled around him to the bed, adding an extra little sway to her hips because she knew he was watching. The bed creaked softly under her weight and she crawled across the king-sized expanse to lie down in the middle.
“No,” he said. “On all fours. I want your ass in the air.”
Her eyes followed his hand as he stroked himself, leisurely pumping his cock in his fist. The taste of him was still fresh in her mouth and she was hungry for so much more. She got on her hands and knees and wiggled her ass, smirking at him over her shoulder.
He smiled as he approached the bed and her pussy hummed when he ran his hand up the back of her thigh. He followed the line of her hamstring, running his hand up the back of her leg, and then up over her ass. Chills raced down her spine when his fingers brushed her cleft, climbed higher, tracing the arch of her spine. His hand closed on the back of her neck, and Bailey gasped as he pushed her facedown into the mattress. He leaned over her, caging her beneath him, and whispered, “I said, I wanted your ass in the air.”
She was trapped, held in place, his grip around her neck firm and unyielding. She supposed she could break free if she wanted to—her hands were not restrained after all—but where was the fun in that? She turned her head to look at him, the bedspread cool and soft against her cheek. His face was close to hers, a sexy smile on his lips. “You could have just asked.”
“I did ask,” he said, with exaggerated patience.
“I guess you did.” She smiled back at him, so wet for him it was ridiculous. “Sometimes I’m a very bad girl.”
“I see that,” he said, his other hand gently caressing her entrance. His fingers were instantly coated in her juices and she writhed beneath him, trying to urge him to quell the ache within her. He pressed her clit, and Bailey arched her back, opening herself up to him. Wet kisses on her throat melted her insides and the slow trace of his tongue over the inner folds of her ear made her wild. She squirmed and a sharp sting zapped her body when he spanked her pussy.
She yelped from the pain as much as from surprise. He spanked her again and her pussy went white hot. Another slap had her moaning into the mattress.
He nuzzled her ear, his breath hot on her neck. “Do you want me to fuck you?”
“Yes.” The word was a moan, a groan, a sigh.
He slid two fingers inside her and her thighs relaxed, spreading for him, wanting him deeper. “Say please.”
His fingers curled and she lost the ability to speak, the blinding pleasure a complete and total sensory overload. She squeezed her eyes shut and rode his fingers, needing him deeper, needing him to relieve some of the mounting tension.
And just when she was almost there, so close she was shaking, he pulled away, leaving her empty and unfulfilled. She groaned, mindlessly rocking her hips, needing him back and then his mouth was there, the flick of his hot tongue against her clit making her legs tremble. His tongue pushed inside her, licking her deep, and she panted out inarticulate moans of pleasure and longing. When his thumb pressed against her clit, her hips bucked.
“Oh, Rick, please. Please.” She was on fire, out of control, driven insane by the unrelenting need for release.
The texture of his tongue against her sensitive folds was driving her mad, the steady massage of his finger on her clit almost painful. He took her over the edge, and she shook, screaming out her orgasm through clenched teeth. He licked her as she thrashed and only moved away after the last wave had passed. She fell forward on the bed, sweating, gasping, wrung out.
He smacked her bottom, a loud, sharp slap. “Get that ass back in the air.”
She obeyed immediately. Anything to get more of him.
He chuckled. “Eager?”
“Oh, yeah,” she said, looking at him over her shoulder. “Please, Rick, may I have some more?”
His eyes twinkled with amusement. “So, you can be good when you want to be.”
She caught her lower lip between her teeth. “I can be very good.”
“I don’t doubt that at all.” He got up off the bed and went to the nightstand. There was a box of condoms in the top draw, right next to the hotel information binder. He took one out of the box and ripped the package open with his teeth.
Bailey smiled. It seemed he also set out with an agenda for the night. “Confident, huh?”
He flashed her that smug grin of his that she was coming to really, really like. “I try to always be prepared.”
“Is that an army motto?”
He laughed. “Close—it’s the Boy Scouts.” He rolled the condom on. “I’m a Marine however.”
There was some kind of Marine base on the other side of the river. Maybe he was local. For the second time that night, she banished the dangerous thoughts. Instead, shedeliberately focused on his cock, on how much she wanted it, on how much she wanted him. “Ooooh?” she asked, drawing out the word, teasing him. “Does that mean you’re the best?”
“Yes, it does.” The bed creaked as he knelt behind her. He gripped his cock and traced it up and down the length of her entrance, coating himself with her wetness. “Spread your legs for me.”
She did as he asked, opening her legs wide so that he could fit between her thighs. The cool air kissed her hot, sensitive folds, adding a tingling chill to her blistering arousal. The head of his cock touched her entrance and her stomach fluttered in anticipation. They moaned together when he slid inside. Doggy-style was always one of her favorite positions, it let her lover get real deep. The single strand of beads bounced against her breasts as he took her, teasing her nipples. He gripped her hips, pumping into her, and she pushed back against him, meeting him thrust for thrust. He increased the tempo, taking her harder, faster.
“Lie down.” He pressed down on her lower back. “I want to go deeper.”
She dropped her hips onto the bed, and he angled down into her. She gulped when he thrust into her again, filled to the point of pleasurable pain. Every time he plunged in, she gasped. He was so big, he stroked her in spots she never even knew she had. His weight pressed down on her and she was trapped beneath him, smothered by his body. He laced her fingers through hers, brought their joined hands to his lips and kissed her knuckles. They connected, moving together in luscious harmony, giving and taking all the pleasure their bodies had to offer. Each stroke swept Bailey closer to the edge, taking her higher.
Her release built up again and he licked her throat as she began to convulse. “Yes, baby,” he murmured. “Come all over my cock.”
He reached between them and pressed her clit. Her whole world exploded in violent light. She cried out as the orgasm washed over her, milking him as he thrust deeper. And then suddenly, he pulled out, leaving her open, exposed, her body shaking from the force of her climax.
He stripped off the condom, took a fistful of her hair, and brought her face to his cock. “Suck.”
She was helpless not to. He rammed himself into her mouth, and her lips closed over him, his flavor making her moan. A few strong thrusts and then he was coming, plung
ing deep into her throat, spilling himself into her eager mouth. His gasping growls were wonderfully erotic music, and she sucked him until he was fully spent.
He fell back on the bed beside her, flinging his arm dramatically over his eyes. She turned over and lightly stroked the hair on his abdomen while he recovered.
He exhaled a long breath and sat up, his abs flexing as he rolled over to take her into his arms. She lay there with him, perfectly content in his embrace, breathing in his scent. Safe and warm, she snuggled into his arms and closed her eyes.
He stirred, getting more comfortable, and from the deep resonance of his breath, she guessed that he was getting ready to fall asleep. The night was fun, but there was no reason for it to extend into the next day. It was probably better for her if it didn’t.
She tried to gently push his arms aside, but instead of releasing her, his grip tightened around her. He opened one eye. “What’re you doing?”
She touched his face, his stubble tickling the pads of her fingers. “I should go.”
“No, you don’t.” His hand glided down her torso to cup her mound. “I’m nowhere near done with you.”
He slid a finger inside her and she went instantly liquid once again. She smiled even as he made her gasp. Perhaps she should stay—for just a little while longer.
*
The sound of the air conditioner cycling on startled Bailey awake. She looked around the unfamiliar room, trying to orient herself. She blinked and everything came back in a rush—Bourbon Street, Rick, the night. With a contented sigh, she sat up in bed and stretched, her muscles languid and fully worked out. He had taken her in positions she hadn’t even know existed and the deep ache in her core was well earned. She glanced over at him, his lean, athletic body half uncovered and stretched out beside her. His naked ass was a tempting sight, and taking a big bite out of it would be a magnificent way to start the day, but she refrained. It was well past time to go.
She gathered her things as quietly as possible, hoping that he would wake up, dreading that he would. He didn’t stir while she dressed. Disappointment almost outweighed her relief, but it was best not to complicate things with long goodbyes. She left the room without a backward glance.
She walked home through the Quarter, enjoying the early morning serenity after the Mardi Gras storm. Flashes of the night came back to her, the texture of Rick’s tongue, his rough caress, the way his cock filled her up inside. She smiled, heat returning to her cheeks, the hollow ache in her pussy thrumming with renewed desire. It would have been nice to have him one more time before she left, be able to lie in his arms a little while longer.
A young couple exited a coffee shop a little father ahead of her, giggling as they set off down the street. The boy wrapped his arm around his girl’s shoulders, pulling her close to whisper something in her ear. The girl laughed at whatever her boyfriend said, her happy face radiant in the morning sunlight. Bailey smiled, even though her heart hurt a little bit. One-night stands were nice, but they could never compete with breakfast and a morning stroll.
The couple turned off down Conti, and Bailey continued on her journey. Another woman, obviously doing the walk of shame, approached from the opposite direction. As they got closer to one another, Bailey could see that the woman’s clothes were in disarray, her makeup smeared. Her stumble-shuffle walk made the multitude of beads around her neck clank loudly. The woman smiled at her as they passed and then tittered as her gaze focused on Bailey’s chest. “Honey,” she said as she lurched by, “you got gypped!”
Bailey’s hand went automatically to her throat, finding the single strand of plastic pearls still around her neck. She hadn’t even realized she was still wearing them. She smiled as she fingered the little white hearts, the memory of Rick’s kiss warming her insides. They were a silly token, but she was glad she had them. And though it was grossly sentimental—and probably very wrong—she was going to keep them as a reminder of the night.
She arrived home and reached into her pocket for her key. As she pulled it out, a small piece of paper came with it, fluttering to the ground on her doormat. It looked blank, but when she picked it up, she discovered it was a torn piece of hotel stationary. Written on one side were the words, “Call Me—Chief Warrant Officer Richard Young,” and a phone number with a local area code.
Chapter Three
For two weeks, the little piece of paper with Rick’s number sat on top of Bailey’s dresser. Two weeks, and she still couldn’t decide what she wanted to do. Mardi Gras was supposed to have been one night of hot, anonymous sex, and nothing more. If she called him, it would be something more, and she wasn’t sure she wanted that.
She fingered the paper for probably the hundredth time and glanced over her shoulder at her phone. Being with him had been tremendously fun. He’d made her laugh even as he made her come. That was a rare occurrence. When she was in the mood to allow the occasional tourist to seduce her, she was only ever after one thing. Sometimes they did that thing well, sometimes not, but whatever was supposed to happen next never mattered. There was no next.
She shivered as a tongue of heat licked her pussy, the memory of his touch fresh in her mind. He had been amazing in bed, a heady combination of gentle and rough, playful and demanding. It was a game, a challenge, a mind-blowing, straight-up awesome, dirty, fucking sex. And she wanted him again—at least for tonight. She crossed the room, picked up the phone, and dialed.
He answered on the third ring. “Chief Warrant Officer Young speaking.”
Her heart sped up at the sound of his voice. She’d forgotten how deep and sexy it was. “Hi, this is Bailey.” She wiped her suddenly clammy palm against her jeans. When was the last time she had been this nervous about calling a guy? High school, maybe. “We met on Mardi Gras night.”
“Well hello, Bailey.” Was he smiling? It sounded like he was. She recalled that smile, his devilishly cocky grin, and heat rose to her cheeks. “I didn’t think you were ever going to tell me your name.”
“You never asked.”
“You could have offered.”
He had wanted to know after all. She had to forcibly swallow back the lump that wanted to form in her throat. “That wouldn’t have been any fun.”
“And we did have fun.” There was some background noise on his end, male voices. “So, to what do I owe this pleasure?”
“Are you doing anything tonight?” Because I really want you to be doing me.
“I’m not doing anything, actually.” He paused and this time she knew without a doubt that he was grinning. “Why?”
She smiled into the phone, her pussy already slick for him. “Well, I was thinking maybe we could meet for—” hot, raunchy sex—”coffee.”
“Hmm,” he rumbled, and she held the phone tightly against her ear to catch the vibration of his voice. “I’m not much of a coffee drinker. How about a beer instead?”
Score! “I like beer. Why don’t you meet me at Dominion?” It was the first place that popped into her head, but it was great choice. It was close to home, dark, and didn’t attract many tourists. An excellent place for an illicit rendezvous. “It’s on Rampart.”
There was sound of shuffling of paper, more noise in the background. “I won’t be able to get there for a few hours. Does nine work for you?”
“Perfect.”
“And, Bailey? Don’t wear any underwear.”
She laughed, completely enamored with his boldness. “I can’t leave my house without a bra.”
He lowered his voice. “That wasn’t the underwear I meant.”
“I don’t know. I might get chilly.”
“I’ll make sure you’re warm.”
She couldn’t help but smile. “I’ll think about it.”
“You do that.” She knew from his tone that he expected her to be pantyless tonight. “I’ll see you later.”
“See you.”
She held on to the phone a long time after he had hung up. It was going to be a good night.
The night was hot, heavy with the scent of night-blooming jasmine. She’d chosen to wear a scandalously short skirt, loose silk cami and strappy sandals, and the damp air coated her skin, kissing the tender folds of her bare pussy as she walked up St. Ann. When she entered the bar, it wasn’t just the blast of air conditioning that made her nipples hard. It was the sight of him.
He stood up as she arrived at his side. That sexy grin was on his lips, and her insides heated, recalling the force of his kiss. He took her hand and drew her into his arms. “Do you have something to show me?” he whispered and tapped her lightly on the ass.
He was so delightfully depraved. She was almost tempted to flash him his reward. “Maybe.”
He lifted her chin with his thumb and brought her mouth to his. Heat exploded in her veins when their lips met. He gathered her closer, and she gasped when his hand dipped beneath her skirt. It was a quick grope, nothing too exploratory, but enough for him to feel the outer curve of her naked folds, to ignite a pulsing ache deep in her core. He flicked her tongue with his and then pulled back, his eyes alight with boyish glee. “You are a very naughty girl.”
She smiled. “And here I thought I was being good by doing what I was told.”
“I’m glad to see that Ash Wednesday didn’t cure you of your sinning.” He held out a barstool for her.
“Of course it did. I’m no heathen.” She sat down and crossed her legs, her short skirt riding up even higher on her thigh. “But Ash Wednesday is over now.”
Seven, Dominion’s tall, tattooed, hard rocking, heavy metal guitarist and part-time bartender, appeared before them. “Hey, Bailey,” he said, brushing a lock of his dark hair off his forehead. He cut a glance toward Rick and then back to her. He raised an eyebrow, silently asking her if she was all right, if she needed him to intervene.
