by Isabel Wroth
Intimidatingly gorgeous.
The place had been full of mostly naked dudes last time, so stupidly Ripley hadn’t thought much about it. These were the women Saint was spending his nights with?
Ripley stepped into the club proper, Frankie right behind her, and felt every eye in the spacious room swing to her and stare. Undeterred and un-intimidated, Frankie set his hand on her back and pushed her forward towards the bar, towards the towering Amazon drying beer glasses behind the polished oak bar.
“Hey, Bird. How’s it goin?” Frankie greeted, rapping his knuckles on the bar.
Bird gave her long, curly black hair a toss and offered Frankie a smooth smile. Though how Frankie could be focusing on Bird’s face and not her monstrous breasts was beyond Ripley’s understanding. She wasn’t into women, but she couldn’t help staring.
Bird’s boobs seemed to be one good cough away from busing out of the prison of the violently neon yellow bra holding them in. Busting out and setting the birds tattooed on the swell of either breast, flying out across the bar.
“Going good. This a new girl?”
Bird’s voice was surprisingly deep, almost enough to have Ripley wondering if perhaps Bird might be a man. The skin of her breasts looked suspiciously taut. Ripley wasn’t sure if Bird’s thought that perhaps she was a stripper was a compliment or not.
“Hell no. This is Saint’s woman, Ripley.” Frankie made the introductions and then asked Bird where Saint was.
“In the office with Judith.”
For some reason, the tone Bird spoke with made Ripley’s stomach churn with uneasiness. Frankie took her around and down a hallway where the noise began to quiet and she could hear Saint’s loud, stern voice half shouting at someone.
“You’ve got a kid at home, Judith!”
The female whine that followed grated on Ripley’s nerves. Like nails on a chalkboard.
“Will is fine! My mom takes care of him while I’m at work. I’m barely making enough money to pay my bills and the day shift sucks!”
“Your mom is six thousand years old and has no business taking care of a toddler. As for you not making enough money, maybe if you didn’t spend it on booze while you’re here, you’d actually take some home.
“You’re getting paid hourly to be here, you’re getting tips, and if you’re not getting tips, it’s probably because you’re complaining about how you’re not making enough money to the customers who are ironically here to give you money.”
Frankie made a face and shook his head, wordlessly holding his hand up to tell her to wait there with him in the hall until Saint finished with Judith.
“We need a VIP room! The customers don’t like getting lap dances out in the open. I can’t do my job-”
“Judith, I’m done with this conversation. You’re not moving to the night shift. We are not putting in a VIP room so you and the other skanks like you, can make a few more bucks giving blow jobs in the back. This isn’t a whorehouse. If you don’t like it, feel free to get your shit and get the fuck out.”
“Saint, please. My kid-”
“Woman, you use your kid as an excuse one more time and I will fire your ass right now. If you want more cash, teach a few of the dance classes on Mondays.”
“I am not teaching a bunch of stuck up housewives how to shake their tits for their husbands! Those judgmental bitches-“
“Clearly, Judith, you don’t need the money bad enough. Show up to work on time tomorrow or don’t bother coming back.”
Judith responded with a squeal, dropping all pretense of being helpless and needy in favor of being a bitch. “You are such a cocksucker!”
Ripley almost got run over by the stacked Barbie doll who came stomping out of the office in an outfit Ripley felt safe in assuming was the stereotypical uniform of a stripper. Tight white tank, black bra, shorts short enough to bare Judith’s toned butt cheeks. Enough bling to blind an entire football stadium. Caked on makeup on what would have otherwise been a beautiful face, blonde hair out to there, topped off with a tan so deep Judith looked orange.
Once the pissed off stripper had stomped past them in the hall, Ripley peeked her head into the office to find Saint scowling at the computer screen on the rather manly desk in the rear of the very clean space. There were whiteboards on the wall with names and stuff written on them and another for the weekly menu changes and drink specials with their corresponding recipe.
The Velvet Box boasted a selection of drinks and every drink was named something filthy. Beyond the usual ‘slippery nipple’ or ‘sex on the beach.’ If it wasn’t a draft beer it had a terribly dirty name, one guaranteed to make the person ordering it either laugh or blush. For example, the specials this week were:
Sit On My Face,
The Strawberry Stripper,
The Harvey Wallbanger,
The Rocky Mountain Bear Fucker and, A Little Dick’ll Do, were still on the menu.
Ripley rolled her lips together to keep from laughing, because she could not imagine walking up to Bird the Bartender and asking her for a Strawberry Stripper. Though apparently she was fine with asking some male waiter for a ‘little dick’ll do.’ And after experiencing the raging hangover brought on by little dicks and Rocky Mountain Bear Fuckers, Ripley was tempted to never drink again.
Aside from the big desk, there were some filing cabinets, a rack of stripper clothes on a hanger, and a comfortable looking couch in black. That was pretty much it.
“Is this a bad time?” Saint’s head shot up and he seemed genuinely surprised to see her peeking around the doorframe.
“What the fuck are you doing here, princess?” His demand was an exclamation of total shock.
Ripley lifted the paper bag in her hand and stepped into the office. “I thought I would surprise you with dinner. I didn’t realize they served food here.”
Saint snorted and pushed his chair back opening his arm for her in invitation to sit. Lately he preferred that if there was space for her to sit, she do it in his lap. She set the bag on the desk and carefully slid down to sit on his thighs, smiling when he leaned the chair back, forcing her to fall against his chest.
“It’s not real food. You didn’t come alone, right?” Saint was scowling with disapproval.
Ripley wrapped her arms around his shoulders and touched a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “No. Frankie’s outside in the hall.”
Saint grunted, shouting for Frankie. The brother stepped into the frame of the door, doing that manly chin jerk in greeting.
“Take off for a few hours and shut the door.”
Frankie grinned a grin that suggested more than food was on the menu. “You got it, bro.”
The door shut behind him and Saint turned her face towards him for a proper kiss. Ripley’s skin prickled with the immediate rush of arousal, her toes curling in her heels at the sensual assault of his lips on hers. A small moan feathered out of her at the sweep of his hand up her thigh, his callused palm sneaking up under the hem of her skirt to find the edge of her garters.
“Why do you do this to me?” he growled, not taking his mouth from hers.
“Do what?”
“Wear garter belts and sexy fucking lingerie under your outfits that already drive me insane. Swear to god, my dick is hard enough to drive nails.”
Ripley gasped, throwing her arm out to catch the edge of the desk for support, as his fingers slipped down the crease of her thigh. Pushing her panties aside to press two fingers through the wet cleft of her sex. His fingertips circled her opening, the obscene sound of her arousal echoed by his groan.
“Take off this dress and get on the desk, princess. I want my dessert first.”
Ripley wanted to argue that Saint was still healing, but the look in his eyes electrified her. He was a grown man, he knew his limitations, and it had been torture sleeping beside him for the past two weeks without doing much more than making out and cuddling.
He let her up so she could take off her dress, watching her while h
e lifted his glistening fingers to his mouth to suck her juices from his skin. Licking his lips hungrily as she twisted the belt around her waist free and set her fingers to the buttons down the front of her shirtdress.
A breath whoofed out of him when Ripley let the material of her dress drop to the floor and reveal what she’d been wearing underneath. What he had thought was a garter belt was in actuality a lacy black bustier.
“Where have you been hiding that?” he groaned, reaching out to curve his hands over her hips. His palms rasping against the lace.
Ripley blushed, biting the inside of her cheek while a fission of insecurity welled up. She eased herself up onto the edge of the desk, pressing her lips together as she crossed her legs and took what she hoped was a provocative pose.
“In my Rainy Day drawer.”
Saint groaned with hunger, reaching out to grab both ankles, spreading her legs to set her heels on the armrests of the padded chair he sat in. He rolled forward so she was forced to bend her knees and brace her hands behind her to keep her balance.
“Is it raining?” A feathery little gasp was her immediate answer. He had bent forward to lick a hot, wet line across her breast, right above the lacy edge of her bustier.
“No. I just…I-” Ripley’s eyes rolled a little at the stroke of his wicked tongue across her nipple. Dipping beneath the lace to pull the pebbled tip up so he could wrap his lips around it and suckle gently.
“You just what, princess?”
Saint made it almost impossible to answer, tugging the soft cups of the bustier down to cup both breasts in his hands, alternating his suckling kisses back and forth until she was squirming and had both hands buried in his thick hair. A sharp nip of his teeth spurred her to think.
“I felt like I needed to step up my game if I was going to walk through the sea of hot babes out there.”
Saint bust out laughing and her cheeks turned a different shade of embarrassed pink. She felt insanely vulnerable all of the sudden, heels braced on the arms of his chair, breasts bare and framed by the lace of her corset.
“Ripley,” he chuckled, pressing a string of kisses up her chest, his hands rounding over her stockinged thighs, “You have zero reason to be intimidated by the girls out there. They don’t hold a candle to you.”
“Bird intimidates the crap out of me.” Ripley admitted breathlessly, twitching at the firm sweep of Saint’s thumbs along the tendons in her inner thighs. The zing of borderline ticklish sensation made her bite back a moan.
“Bird is supposed to be intimidating, princess. How much do you like these panties?”
“Um, they’re okay. Not my favorite…oh my god!” Saint grabbed hold of the edges of her lacy panties and ripped them clean off.
Ripley had read about that kind of thing happening in a romance novel, but she herself had never experienced the thrill of having her underwear literally ripped off. Any thought of Bird the Busty Bartender, or the salacious strippers outside, vanished almost instantly.
Saint’s hands scooped down over her hips to grab and tug her to the edge of his desk. Her ass almost hung off into space, her legs splayed wide because of the way he’d set her feet on the chair. She sat there on display, mostly naked, while Saint was still fully clothed. She hadn’t ever felt so sexually vulnerable in her life, and the two of them hadn’t exactly been the sex-with-the-lights-off type.
Her fingernails dug into the leather protector on the desk at the soft brush of his lips on the inside of her knee, her arousal peaking, the slick muscles of her sex flexing with the desire to be filled. The air seemed cooler, or maybe her body was just heating up, melting with readiness. She was somewhat mortified to feel her arousal sliding down between her cheeks, maybe even dripping to the floor. Or worse, in Saint’s lap.
His breath washed hot across her skin, drawing her out of her embarrassed thoughts to realize the sensation was more intense with stockings between his skin and hers. Despite the possessiveness in the way his hands stroked up and down her thighs, Saint didn’t seem to be in any rush.
“Breathe, princess.”
She hadn’t realized she’d been holding her breath until he growled the command across her inner thigh. Which explained why she was so dizzy. Just when she thought Saint was going to put his mouth where she was burning, he leaned back to start his string of kisses down her opposite leg. He chuckled when she hissed and attempted to brace her feet to lift up, but the chair, her position, and his hands kept her right where he wanted her.
On the edge in every way.
She bit into her lip hard enough to hurt when he paused with his mouth right there, one more inch and he would have his lips wrapped around her clit, but he stopped and looked up at her. Watched while he leaned in and pressed the flat of his tongue against her, licking from side to side to spread the lips of her sex, covering the entire length of her pussy.
It felt amazing. Hot. Wet. The rush of pleasure enough to have her moaning softly. Her entire body quivered as he lapped at the excessive amount of fluid that had leaked from inside her. He didn’t rush to devour her, didn’t aggressively dive right in. It was like he was trying to drain the soul from her body, one purposeful lick at a time.
Oddly enough, it made her think back to the first time Saint had kissed her. She had been expecting him to overwhelm her, to dominate and demand a response from her. But Saint had surprised her, delighted her, and seduced her with licks and nibbles to open for him. Just like he was doing now.
He was kissing her pussy like he was kissing her mouth, seducing her with long licks and careful nibbles to her sensitive flesh. To her utter frustration, he was avoiding her clit altogether, but before she could protest, he rubbed his tongue against her opening and pushed inside.
Her eyes rolled back and she forgot completely that anyone walking by outside in the hallway might have heard her cry out. Ripley tried again to lift her ass off the desk, needing more friction, needing his tongue deeper, needing more.
“Saint, please…I need…I want more. Pleasepleaseplease!”
His answer was to grip her hips tighter. Kept her still for his sensual assault until she could barely take another second of his gentle teasing. It felt incredible but after months without him and the past two weeks spent curled up beside him, Ripley was dying for more. For fulfillment. Release. For the blinding orgasms she knew he was capable of giving her.
His grip on her ass eased, his palms stroked up her thighs and disappeared while the sounds of him licking, sucking and growling softly against her pussy became an erotic song.
Heat suffused her entire body, pleasure throbbing through her in waves, making it difficult to keep her arms locked and her body upright. It seemed like the threat of her body collapsing on top of the desk was what Saint had been waiting for.
He went after her clit then like he’d been starving for it, sucking hard, flicking his tongue across the blood filled knot as he pressed his fingers up inside her. She swore she could feel him smile when she shrieked with shock and bliss at the sudden change of intensity.
He curled his fingers inside her, thrusting against the pleasure drenched tissues with a ‘come here’ motion. It flipped a ravenous switch in her mind and Ripley couldn’t get enough, fast enough. The game changer was the edge of teeth he added, knowing full well, one careful nip would set her off like an over shaken bottle of champagne.
He gave her that careful nip while simultaneously rubbing firmly at the front wall of her pussy, overwhelming her with the instant rush of completion. The orgasm he pulled from her made her entire body tremble, like a sexual earthquake had just rolled through her.
Saint never took his eyes off of her, not for a single moment. He rose up from between her legs like a carnal beast, his lips and chin shining with her juices, his eyes possessively stroking over her while he shed his cut and tugged his shirt over his head.
“Beautiful,” he rasped, licking his lips while he pressed his hand on her still quivering belly. Pressing up, pressing her b
ack. “You’re beautiful when you come, princess.” He bared his teeth in a sensual grimace when he swept his thumb over her lip. Ripley curled her tongue out to catch it, loving how his eyes flared with hunger. “You’re always beautiful. But I love that face the most. When you’ve come undone all over me.”
Ripley lay back on the desk, feeling drunk on her own desire and the need for more. Feeling wicked and sexy. She wasn’t one for talking dirty, but given her surroundings, Ripley wanted this to be a memorable event. One Saint would look back on for years to come and remember in perfect detail.
“I want you to fuck me on this desk. I don’t want a second to go by that you don’t see me like this while you’re in here working around all these naked strippers.”
In reaction to her explicit demand, lust immediately stamped Saint’s already far too handsome features. Ripley shivered as she watched his fingers twist at the buckle of his belt, drag the zipper down to free the hard length of his cock. She had to bite back a hiss of jealousy when he curled his hand around himself to stroke while he let his eyes eat her up.
“I want you so bad my fuckin teeth hurt. I want to shove myself balls deep and fuck you bare and fill you so full of my come you won’t ever get me out. If you don’t want that, you tell me now.”
If he thought his threat was going to put her off, he was dead wrong. Ever since that day at Ever’s, when Ripley had berated him for his desire to forgo a condom, he hadn’t forgotten. He’d kept a rubber on him at all times, but today, right now, she didn’t care.
“Come on, Saint. Fuck me on your desk.”
He did not hesitate. He gave a rough snarl as he pressed the thick head of his cock to her pussy and lunged. Filling her in one ruthless thrust.
Ripley cried out, her body arching with the shock that always came from his body invading hers. There was a different burn this time, the heat of his bare skin seemed almost scalding. He hissed as he bottomed out, his fingers biting into her hips as he held her steady, held himself steady. Like he was giving them both a moment to adjust to the heat.
