She turned and made a mad dash to the dance floor.
She weaved through the crowd, hips and shoulders swaying to the beat, feeling looser by the second as the alcohol numbed the worry out of her. Violet and Emery were slithering up and down each other’s bodies in some sort of dirty dance, while Desiree and Mira leaned in close, talking as they moved in purely PG fashion. Driven by the lust pulsing inside her and the tension-easing effects of alcohol, Serena joined Harper in an evocative dance. She gazed up at the colored lights, calmed by the music, feeling it throb and flutter inside her. This was what she needed, to lose herself in something other than Drake, to feel in control again.
“Finally!” Harper yelled over the music.
Serena answered with a bump of her hips.
“Why didn’t you tell me that you and Drake were a couple?”
Violet and Emery cracked up.
“What? We’re not!” Serena shot a look at Mira.
“Don’t look at me,” Mira shouted. “I see what Harper sees!”
Harper’s brows lifted in confusion. “Then I’ve really lost my hotness radar, because the way you two look at each other tells a different story.”
“It’s just a weird night.” Serena raised her arms over her head and closed her eyes for a moment to try to lose herself in the beat again, but all she saw was Drake’s sinful gaze. She opened her eyes as Chloe burst through the crowd and threw her arms around her.
“Sorry I’m late!” Chloe hugged her, then embraced the others. “Wow. You guys all look amazing!”
Violet smirked. “Don’t we always?”
“I know I do,” Emery said.
Chloe pointed to Serena and said, “Are you dressing to get one last quickie in before Boston?”
“Something like that.” Serena had forgotten what she had on. She did look like she was trying to get lucky. Was that why Drake had finally made a move?
“I thought she’d dressed for Drake!” Harper said as they began dancing.
Violet danced over to Serena and said, “So did he,” into her ear.
Serena glared at her.
“She’s been dressing for Drake since she realized she had boobs!” Chloe teased. “Why would tonight be any different?”
“Shut up and dance with us!” Serena said, hoping to change the topic.
They danced in a group to so many songs, Serena didn’t know when the colored lights had dimmed, and she didn’t care. She was a little high and was feeling good. When Harper tapped her on the shoulder and motioned toward Drake sitting at the table watching her like she was putting on a private show just for him, she turned up the heat.
Holding his gaze, Serena thrust out her breasts, rolling her shoulders back, first one, then the other, swaying her hips to the same rhythm. She raised her arms, moving them over her head as she turned seductively. When she’d turned full circle, his face was a mask of wicked intent. His interest made her feel bold and sexy. She sidled up to Emery in an erotic grinding dance. Emery fell right into step, and together they drove Dean and Drake out of their minds.
Suddenly Emery grabbed Serena’s hand, jerking her out of her sensual taunt.
Emery’s eyes widened as she stared at Serena’s new bracelet. “What is this amazing thing? Where’d you get it?”
“It’s a going-away present from Drake.” Serena’s pulse spiked again, and she stole a glance at Drake, who was still practically drooling over her.
“He gave you a slave bracelet?” Violet asked with more than a hint of shock. “I did not expect that kind of fuckery. Wow.”
“What’s a slave bracelet?” Desiree asked. “That sounds really offensive, Violet. You shouldn’t say that in public.”
Violet stopped dancing and gave her sister a deadpan look. “Not that kind of slave, Desiree. It indicates a BDSM slave. They relinquish all rights to their master.”
“Who would do that?” Desiree gasped, looking at Serena with troubled eyes.
“What? No! What are you…? He isn’t…Ohmygod.” She stormed off the dance floor and headed for the table. The girls followed like she was the pied piper. She stopped, and they collided into her. She turned around as they frantically apologized all at once.
“Please don’t say anything, okay?” she pleaded. “I don’t need everyone thinking this about me. Us. There is no us!” And if he is into slaves, there is definitely no us.
“We won’t,” Desiree promised.
“Promise,” Harper said.
Chloe laughed. “My lips are sealed, but I totally want to know!”
“I don’t,” Mira said.
Serena needed a drink. Or three. She glared at Violet and Emery.
“Fine. Jesus, you guys are so weird.” Violet went back to the dance floor.
“Okay, but you have to tell us what he says when we’re not around the guys,” Emery urged. Then she joined Violet.
Serena thought she was nervous before, but every step closer to the table made her heart race faster. The girls took their seats, chatting with Rick and Dean and stealing glances at her. Her thoughts fragmented as Drake rose to his feet in all his rugged glory—and she pictured him with a whip, wearing leather shorts and a collar.
Shitshitshit.
“Take my seat, Supergirl,” he said. “I got you another drink.”
She sank down to his chair.
He pushed a glass in front of her and leaned in close, bringing his mouth beside her ear. His chest pressed deliciously against her side as he said, “It was torture watching you dance and not being out there with you.”
“What do you want to do? Handcuff me to your wrist?” she snapped in a hushed whisper.
He chuckled against her cheek, and despite her irritation, her entire body heated and tingled in anticipation of his lips on her again.
“Is that what you want?” he asked in a low voice.
“No!” She put her hand up, shielding her mouth as she spoke harshly into his ear. “I can’t believe you got me a slave bracelet!”
“What?” he said angrily. “I didn’t.”
She held up her arm and twisted her hand from side to side, showing him the bracelet. “Violet said it’s a slave bracelet.”
“She’s wrong,” he said vehemently, putting his mouth beside her ear again. “I’d never want you for my slave. I’m not into that shit.” The distaste in his voice conveyed his honesty.
“Then why did you get me a slave bracelet?”
“I got you a bracelet I liked, something edgy and different, like you,” he said.
She pressed her lips together, wishing she’d asked Violet if they sold them in places other than kinky sex stores. “Where’d you get it?”
“From a custom-jeweler friend of mine, Sterling. We designed it together two months ago. He’s in P-town with his brothers for the weekend. He called the office today. You’ve talked to him several times. Why?”
Oh boy. Now she felt like an idiot. “I’m sorry.” She reached for her drink, and he covered her hand with his, stopping her.
“Before you get blitzed, tell me what’s going on.” His serious expression rattled her. “Don’t you trust me?”
“Yes” came easily, honestly, and with a gust of relief. Luckily, the girls were busy chatting and not hanging on her every word. “Tonight threw me off or something. When Violet said that, it made me think I didn’t really know you.” She leaned closer and lowered her voice to a whisper. “Are you into that stuff? Slaves and submissives?”
He put an arm around her and pulled her closer. “I’m into you, Serena. Do I enjoy a little kink? Sometimes, sure, if my partner is into it, but I’m not into slaves and submissives.”
She skipped right over his admission about being into her, because they both knew this thing between them was like a simmering pot ready to explode. “Kink,” she repeated. Her mind zoomed through all the kinky things she could think of. What if her definition of kink was different from his? She shielded her mouth again and whispered, “What do you conside
r kink?”
He gave her a get serious look and said, “We are not talking about this here.”
“Do you make women call you Daddy?” she whispered, now more curious than ever about what he was into.
“Don’t be sick,” he said with a laugh. “I told you we aren’t talking about this.”
“Oh, yes, we are. I’m leaving tomorrow, and I want to know.”
He hauled her closer. She was practically sitting on his lap. He’d never been a close talker, and now it seemed that was the only way he wanted to communicate with her. “I’m not going to educate you in kink the night before you leave town.”
The way he said educate you, in a lower and more serious tone, made her stomach dip. She loved his reaction so much, she decided to push him even further. She grabbed her purse and dug out her phone. “Fine. Maybe I can find some explanatory pictures of guys with big cocks doing kinky th—”
He snagged her phone, scowling at her. “Enough.”
“If you won’t educate me…” She glanced around the bar and spotted Harper’s brothers. Colton owned the bar and was gay, and Brock owned a gym in Eastham and was straight as an arrow, making him the perfect weapon to stir Drake’s jealousy. “I bet Brock will.”
She pushed to her feet, and Drake grabbed her hand, stopping her in her tracks. Her nerves flared. She felt like she was standing on the edge of a volcano, taunting an eruption by egging him on, but Lord help her, she wanted to jump in feet-first.
He rose slowly and purposefully beside her, his steady gaze rooting her in place.
“Where are you going?” Chloe asked.
“To dance,” Drake said, putting his other hand on her lower back so possessively he could have branded her bare skin.
Chapter Seven
DRAKE CONSIDERED HIMSELF a master of self-control, but Serena was chipping away at it minute by minute. He’d believed he had conquered his desire for her, shelved it out of reach to be fantasized about but never realized. But as they weaved through the crowded dance floor, his sassy, sexy girl clinging to him, colorful lights raining down on an orgy of bumping and grinding bodies all around them, the scent of lust thickening the air, he struggled with his resolve.
Out of eyeshot from their friends, he took Serena in his arms, crushing her softness against his hard frame. His hands splayed across her back, moving down her hips, demanding and possessive, like she was already his. Carnal desires flooded him, and he struggled to remember why he’d fought them for so long.
She gazed up at him with a challenge in her gorgeous eyes, rocking and grinding seductively against him. There was no beginning or end to what she did to him. Seeing her, laughing with her, wanting her was a continual stream of goodness culminating in an ocean of emotions.
They danced to their own private beat, slow and sensual, then fast and dirty. His hands moved greedily over her hot flesh. He wedged his thigh between her legs and pressed her hips tight against him, grinding into her so she could feel what she did to him as he spoke directly into her ear. “Touch me.”
He put enough space between them to give her hands room to roam, and roam they did, moving hot and hungrily over his chest, ribs, and oh yeah, baby, up his face. Her delicate fingers played over his scruff, then down his neck. She closed her eyes, and her lips glistened enticingly as she moved to the beat, exploring his body, getting lost in him.
“Eyes on me, Supergirl.”
Her eyes opened, needy and hauntingly sexy. Tangled between their scorching chemistry and unrelenting desire was a whispered warning, telling him to back off. He was going to upend her life if he continued on this runaway train. Their bodies connected from thighs to chest, brushing and grinding, pressing and rocking. He was hard as steel, and she was panting with desire. He lowered his mouth to her neck, breathing in her intoxicating scent. Her fingers curled into the backs of his arms. He didn’t kiss her neck, didn’t touch her skin with his mouth. His lips hovered over the curve where her neck met her shoulder, breathing warmth there. She went up on her toes to reach his mouth, but he kept a sliver of space between them, enjoying her clawing and arching, her need for more. The song “Strip That Down” by Liam Payne came on, and he pulsed his hips to the erotic beat. His hands slid down to her ass, holding tight.
She grabbed his head, trying to force his mouth to her neck. He clutched her wrist and drew back far enough to see her pleading eyes.
Fuck. This.
He hauled her off the dance floor toward the hallway that led to the bathrooms.
“Where are we going?” she panted out, hurrying to keep up with him.
He had no fucking idea, because he wasn’t about to take her in a bathroom.
“Away from prying eyes.” He took her hands in his and backed her up against the wall, caging her in with his body, and pinned her wrists above her head. She stared up at him with wide eyes as he lowered his mouth near hers, craving her like a drug.
“I’ve always known you were the only woman who could lead me to pure, sexual madness,” he practically growled.
The wicked smile that appeared on her luscious lips nearly did him in. “Want to educate me now?”
“There are so many sinful things I want to do to you right now, but not one of them has to do with educating you.”
Her smile faded to a seductive pout. “I was hoping you’d tell me what kind of kink you like.”
She had no idea what she was doing to him, with her hands trapped, her body exposed for his taking. He did a quick visual sweep of their surroundings. They were in the hallway, shielded by a group of people talking at the entrance. He shifted his hands, holding hers in one of his, as he slid his other up her thigh, cupping her bare ass cheek. Going deeper, he felt the slim line of a thong. Holy fuck he wanted to be inside her.
He brushed his scruff over her cheek and said, “You want to know what I like?”
“Yes,” she panted out.
“I like you, Serena. I fantasize about you naked in my bed, lying beneath me while I’m buried deep inside you. I dream about you wearing provocative clothing—stockings, garters, heels, bent over while I take you from behind.” He squeezed her ass harder, earning a sharp inhalation. “Straddling my face while I bring you to the brink of orgasm and hold you there until you beg for more, your body shaking so badly you can barely get the words out.”
He kissed her neck, and she whimpered.
“I want you on your back while I taste and claim every inch of you.” She struggled against his strength as he held her arms up. “Am I too much for you?”
Her eyes flamed. “No. I want to touch you.”
His cock throbbed with her plea. “Not yet, Supergirl. You wanted to know what I like, and I want to tell you.”
He took her earlobe between his teeth, and then he sucked it into his mouth. She bowed off the wall, grinding against him. He shot a glance at the entrance to the hall, still blocked by the group. Thank fucking God. He shifted, blocking her from view, and tugged her hands higher, stretching her body as he slipped his fingers between her legs, feeling the damp material. She spread her legs wider, the challenge in her eyes underscored by the lust there.
He slid his finger beneath the material, gliding over her wetness, and ground out, “Fuck, Serena.” His thumb brushed over her flesh. “Bare. Oh, baby. I am going to devour you.”
A seductive grin spread across her lips, and he withdrew from between her legs. All the sass went out of her eyes, and the air rushed from her lungs. He brushed his lips over her cheek and said, “When we’re both ready, I’m going to take you painfully slow and intensely deep, and then, just when you think you’ve given all you can, I’m going to take you a little rough and dirty.” He drew back and gazed into her eyes. She was so beautiful, so desperate for it, just like him. He knew he was going to burn in hell for this, but he didn’t care. Being with Serena would be worth every singed second.
“But first,” he said in a low voice, “I’m going to do everything I can to heighten and extend your
arousal, until your skin is on fire and you orgasm from sheer, erotic desire.”
He brought his damp fingers to his lips and licked them slowly, watching her intently. Her eyes widened with shock, curiosity, and red-hot sin. He lowered her hands and placed her palm over his zipper, holding it there as he slicked his fingers over her lower lip. He dipped his head and ran his tongue along the same path. Her cheeks flushed, and she squeezed his cock through his jeans.
“That’s it, Supergirl,” he said, trapping her lower lip between his teeth and giving it a gentle tug. There was a burst of noise from beyond the hallway, pulling him from his excruciatingly hot trance.
Serena pushed up on her toes, grabbing his arms like she might climb him as she craned to reach his mouth. She was right there, beyond ready, more than willing, but as tempting as it was to devour her, he forced himself to straighten his spine, regaining control before he threw any more caution to the wind. Focusing all his restraint, he took her hand and led her back toward the table.
“What…? Where are we going?” she asked breathlessly.
“It would be wrong to run out of the party when you’re the guest of honor.”
She stopped cold, eyes wide, and turned back toward the hall. “Then I need to use the bathroom. I can’t go out there like this.”
He gripped her hand tighter, hauling her against him, and slicked his tongue along the shell of her ear as he whispered, “Why bother cleaning up? I’m only going to get you wet again.”
HOW THE HECK was Serena supposed to concentrate after Drake whispered all those dirty things to her? It had been half an hour since they’d returned to the table, and her friends were watching them so closely, they had to know what was going on. She felt like she had blinking lights on her forehead that read TOO TURNED ON TO SEE STRAIGHT. It didn’t help that under the table, Drake’s hand was plastered to her leg, his fingers moving in a titillating rhythm on her inner thigh. She could barely concentrate enough to answer the questions her friends were peppering her with.
“I want to know all about your apartment when you get there,” Emery said. “I can’t believe they hooked you up with a furnished place in walking distance to the office. That firm must really be big time.”
Bayside Heat (Bayside Summers Book 3) Page 8
