by Mari Carr
“Just curious.” She took a sip of her drink and looked back at him, feeling daring, wanting—for once in her life—to just do something she felt like doing without weighing it, questioning it, or worrying about it. “Do women ever get them?”
His gaze remained steady. “I’ve seen women get ’em on occasion.”
“I want one,” she said, her voice low.
She could tell she’d surprised him once more; herself, too.
“Really?”
She nodded. Before now, she’d never desired another woman, but sitting here watching them had excited her, made her wonder what it felt like to touch or be touched by another girl, as Lynda had. Of course, Jack had just told her she couldn’t touch them, but she simply wanted to do as Lynda had suggested and follow her urges, and her urge at the moment was to have a woman’s curves hovering over and around her. More than that, her urge was to have Jack watch.
Jack’s voice came even lower and huskier. “Did you have a particular girl in mind?”
“Her,” Liz said, pointing to the same brunette they’d been watching give a dance at the next table. She looked at him. “Can you arrange it?”
He nodded.
Jack couldn’t believe Liz wanted a lap dance. Her voice was so breathy asking him about it, her full lips so pouty and kissable, her eyes so wild with curious passion. As he rose to approach the same hot brunette he’d been aroused by the other night, his cock stood so stiff it was almost painful.
As the stripper finished working over the younger guy, rising off him and accepting her tip, she turned to where Jack stood waiting. “How much?” he asked.
“Is it for you?” she inquired and her eyes told him she wanted him to say yes.
“Afraid not.” He pointed toward Liz, gaze focused on the main stage now, where a stripper circled her pole in a Britney Spears schoolgirl outfit. “It’s for my…girlfriend.”
The brunette offered a small smile that made him think she wasn’t disappointed, after all, and that she liked doing women as well as men. “Twenty.”
He handed her the money and added, “By the way, she’s kind of…a virgin at this.”
The stripper flicked pretty deep brown eyes from Liz to him. “Your idea or hers?”
“Hers.”
Her smile widened. “Good.”
Together, they returned to the booth where Liz waited. Before taking a seat beside her, Jack pulled the small round table back so the dancer could reach Liz.
The stripper looked at Liz like Liz usually looked at him—her eyes brimming with desire. “Hi, my name’s Felicia.” Her voice was as smooth as silk.
Liz’s eyes dripped with sensuality and a hint of uncertainty. “Hi.” Her nipples jutted hot and pretty through the slick fabric of her dress.
A new song began, and without further ado, Felicia placed one knee on the seat of the plush burgundy booth next to Liz’s hip before straddling her completely. “Just relax and enjoy,” she said to Liz, who sank a little deeper into her seat as Felicia began to move.
Wearing only her requisite flesh-colored g-string and another sexy pair of fuck-me heels, she began to grind her pussy in hot, tight circles just an inch or so away from Liz’s. She caressed her big, beautiful breasts while Jack and Liz both watched. She tweaked her nipples and swayed them over Liz until they brushed against her chest. Liz let out a small gasp of pleasure and it was all Jack could do not to take his cock in his hand. Like most guys, nothing aroused him quite like the sight of two girls getting it on, and he thought he’d never seen anything so lush and sensual as the dance taking place next to him.
Felicia wore a dirty little smile, clearly pleased she was having the desired effect on both of them. Jiggling her bare breasts against Liz’s once more, the stripper lowered her pussy directly onto Liz’s and began to grind. Oh yeah, he’d been right—Felicia liked doing girls. Her gyrations were hot and slow and sexy as hell, and Liz was beginning to grind back. While they rubbed themselves together, Liz’s eyes roamed Felicia—from her face to her breasts to the bit of fabric stretched over her cunt where it pressed into Liz’s crotch. He barely noticed when other guys in the vicinity began to watch, too—he couldn’t have torn his eyes from the two women if his life had depended on it.
The grinding of pussies through fabric continued and Felicia now rubbed her tits flush against Liz’s, all while simulating a dance. Liz looked drunk with passion, and when Felicia rose to a full sitting position—their crotches still pressed tight together—and began to squeeze and caress her bare breasts, Liz murmured, “Mmm, yes.” That’s when Felicia lowered her hands to Liz’s lovely globes, kneading them as she swayed and moved. Liz let out a ragged sigh and looked down, watching Felicia mold her soft flesh through the dress. Jack could have sworn her nipples popped out a little more and that she worked her hips harder against the stripper’s.
But then Felicia began to cool things down, gradually, and Jack recognized the end of the song approaching and knew Liz’s pleasure was about to come to an end. Felicia ceased touching Liz’s pretty breasts through that creamy dress and resumed kneading her own. Her grinding motions against Liz’s pussy lightened, lightened, until finally she lifted herself up, disconnecting their crotches, finishing the dance that way.
When the song ended, Felicia lowered a soft kiss to Liz’s cheek then slowly got to her feet. The guys at the next table gave a few low whistles and catcalls, and Jack tried to catch his breath as he tucked another twenty into the string of elastic at the stripper’s hip. “Thanks, babe, that was fun,” she said to him, then sauntered away across the room.
Jack slowly lowered his gaze back to Liz, who was sitting up straighter now, her breath coming heavy. He thought in one way this felt like the calm after a storm, as if Felicia had somehow just rained thick lust down upon his sexy, jolie Liz and then vanished quick as a summer downpour. Only he didn’t feel very calm and he suspected Liz didn’t, either.
He wasn’t going to mince words. “Chere, that was the hottest damn thing I’ve ever seen.”
Her cheeks flooded with color. She looked tense, excited, intoxicated. “You liked watching?”
“Oh yeah.” He nodded.
Her eyes lit with heat and Jack took it as an invitation. “I liked knowing you were watching,” she said.
The very words made him want to groan, made the skin around his cock tighten even more. He’d intended to wait ’til her case was done before making a move on her, and as far as he was concerned, it had reached its conclusion a little while ago. Good thing, because nothing could have stopped him from being drawn into the sexual web he felt spinning tight around him. He lowered his voice, leaned in closer to her. “Did you like rubbin’ against her breasts? Her pussy?”
The color in her cheeks deepened, but she didn’t shy away from the question, keeping her gaze intense upon him. “Mmm, yes. It was…incredible.”
“What do you want to do now?” he asked, praying she’d ask him to fuck her.
“I could use a drink,” she said. “It’s hot in here.”
Despite himself, he smiled. It wasn’t hot in there at all—unless you were getting a lap dance, he supposed. He flagged over another waitress in a gold bikini and ordered more drinks as he slid his arm warmly back around Liz’s shoulder. Just the mere feel of her breast against his side added to the fire coursing through him. He turned and whispered in her ear. “Do you have any fuckin’ idea how hot you’ve got me?”
She pulled back just enough to smile at him. “Mmm-hmm.”
He lowered his chin. “Did she make you come?”
Her smiled softened into something more provocative. “No.”
“Were you close?”
She bit her lip, nodded.
A little more blood rushed to his cock. “You want me to finish the job, chere?”
She gave a coquettish look. “Not yet.”
Merde. Was this woman trying to drive him out of his mind with frustration? “Why?”
She paused, tho
ught. “Because this is the most freedom I’ve ever felt in my life. I don’t want to rush the night. I want to stretch it out. I want to feel everything tonight. I want to make it last.”
He grinned. “Just because I get you off don’t mean the night’s over, darlin’. I’d be happy to make you come again and again.”
When the heat is on, anything that can happen…will.
Heat of the Night
© 2010 Elle Kennedy
Out of Uniform, Book 5
When her long-time fiancé breaks off their engagement, saying he needs to “explore other avenues”, Annabelle Holmes has no trouble reading between the lines. Bryce thinks she’s a prude. Funny, since when it comes to acting out sexual fantasies, he’s always been the squeamish one.
Determined to prove him wrong, she sublets an apartment in San Diego, grabs pen and paper, and lists all her sexual fantasies. Intending to surprise Bryce with it as soon as possible. Only the list winds up in the wrong hands—or are they the right ones?
Navy SEAL Ryan Evans is expecting a little impromptu fun with his always-willing, blonde-and-leggy neighbor. But when he slides into her bed, he finds horrified, brunette-and-curvy Annabelle instead—along with her naughty list.
Embarrassment doesn’t begin to cover it when Annabelle realizes where her list has ended up. But then Ryan makes her a delicious offer: The chance to check off every last wild, wicked item—with the help of his equally hot SEAL team buddy, Matt.
A harmless fling is easy to add to her list. Then something unexpected happens that’s not so easy to cross off…
Warning: This title features a sassy heroine, a Navy SEAL hero, and a sex list—being organized has never been so much fun! Be prepared for hot sex on the floor, in public, and even with someone watching…
Enjoy the following excerpt for Heat of the Night:
No matter how hard she tried, Annabelle couldn’t get her late-night visitor out of her mind. She spent the morning answering emails and trying to not think about Ryan, but every five seconds, the memory of his gorgeous face and drool-worthy body would float into her mind like a piece of driftwood. Hands down, he was the hottest guy she’d ever met. She still couldn’t believe he was even real. When she’d woken up to find those playful blue eyes on her and that lean, muscular body pressed against her, she’d thought she was dreaming.
During their entire exchange, she’d been fighting little sparks of desire. That spot between her legs had ached in the strangest way and her breasts had felt so heavy and tingly she’d had to cross her arms over her chest. If he’d stayed for even five more minutes, she probably would’ve jumped him.
So why did you throw him out?
Uh, Bryce? she reminded the voice in her head.
You mean the guy who dumped you?
She ignored the taunting reply and headed for the bathroom to get a towel. Fine, so maybe she didn’t owe anything to her as-of-two-days-ago ex, but she wasn’t the type of girl to hop into bed with a stranger. She was Annabelle Holmes, for Pete’s sake. Her parents had raised her to be a perfect lady, and ladies didn’t have sex with random men, no matter how appealing they might be.
She found the towel and slung it over her shoulder, then left Christina’s apartment and walked downstairs. The courtyard was empty when she stepped out into the hot afternoon air, and the pool looked so inviting she had her shorts and tank off before she even reached the deck. Tilting her head, she let the sun’s rays heat her face. Beads of sweat formed between her breasts, but she welcomed the heat, and she was happy to finally get a chance to wear this teeny yellow string bikini. It never got this hot in San Francisco, and the change of scenery was refreshing. Kicking off her flip-flops, she moved to the edge of the pool, took a breath, and dived cleanly into the deep end.
The cold water engulfed her, feeling like heaven as she swam underwater for a few moments. God, what a gorgeous day. Despite the fact that she missed her job, she was looking forward to a few weeks of downtime. Doing nothing but swimming and tanning and exploring San Diego. She closed her eyes and floated on her back for a while, relishing the solitude, but her me-time was cut short at the sound of footsteps.
Her eyes popped open just in time to see Ryan approaching the pool deck, his sexy blue eyes seeking her out and dancing playfully.
She was so surprised she sank in the water like a stone. Sputtering, she broke the surface, droplets dripping from her hair and into her eyes. “You,” she squeaked.
“Me,” Ryan confirmed.
She was suddenly grateful to be submerged in cold water, because the sight of Ryan made her extremely hot. He wore blue surf shorts and a sleeveless basketball jersey, and his chin was dotted with dark stubble. God, why did men look so good when they were all scruffy? Bryce never sported any scruff—the guy shaved like three times a day just to make sure his aristocratic face remained pretty-boy smooth. But Ryan…oh boy.
Putting on an indifferent voice, Annabelle raised a brow at him and said, “Didn’t we say everything we needed to say last night? You know, when I asked you to leave?”
He shot her a lazy smile. “You may have said what you needed to, but I have one more thing to say.”
“Oh, really? And what’s that?”
“Yes.”
Treading water, she shoved wet strands of hair off her forehead. “Yes what?”
Slowly, he reached into the back pocket of his shorts and removed a wrinkled piece of paper. Annabelle’s eyes widened at the familiar scrap of yellow. No. That couldn’t be the same sheet she’d been using when…shit. Shit, where had she put the list? She searched her brain, finally remembering she’d tossed the fantasy list on the floor before she went to bed. The floor…on which Ryan had dropped his clothes before he’d crawled into bed with her.
“Yes to this question,” he said pleasantly, holding up the paper. “I’m Up For This. Are You? Well, babe, yes. I am definitely up for it.”
Horror climbed up her spine, mingling with the humiliation scorching her cheeks. Scrambling up the metal ladder at the edge of the pool, she hauled herself to her feet and shot a wet arm in his direction, trying to grab the list. Grinning, he held it out of her reach. “Finders keepers,” he said mockingly.
“What are you, five? Give it back. That’s personal property,” she snapped.
Rolling his eyes, he obligingly handed her the list, which got soaked the second her wet hand clutched it. The ink began to smear, and for some asinine reason, she fanned the sheet to stop the smearing. What was the matter with her? A total stranger had just become privy to all her secret fantasies and she was trying to preserve the words? She ought to be burning the damn thing.
“Don’t worry,” Ryan said graciously. “I memorized it.”
She set her jaw. “You had no business reading that.”
“Maybe not, but I did, and now it’s branded into my memory.” He sighed. “It kept me up all night, you know. There I was, tossing and turning, wondering where we should go to take care of number four. A park? Out here in the pool? The back alley of a bar? Damn, the possibilities are endless, Annabelle.”
Number four? What was he—her cheeks burned. Sex in public (preferably a place without security cameras). Oh God. She couldn’t believe he’d actually memorized it. The last time she’d been this embarrassed was back in the third grade, when her frenemy Joan poured water on Annabelle’s crotch and proceeded to tell the entire class she’d peed her pants.
“We are not going anywhere,” she said stiffly. “I, on the other hand, am leaving now.” Her back was ramrod straight as she stomped toward the chair where she’d dropped her towel.
She felt Ryan’s eyes on her as she dried off, and she knew he was ogling her tiny bikini. A sick part of her was even a little flattered, but the embarrassed part overruled it, pushing her to dry off faster and wrap the towel around herself.
“So is that a no?” Ryan asked, cocking his head casually.
“Huh?”
“You won’t let me help you?”
he clarified.
She frowned. “Help me do what?”
“Cross out all those dirty items on your dirty list.” He offered a charming smile. “Look, it’s obvious you can’t carry out some of those, uh, activities, alone. I’m just offering my services, babe.”
“Again with the babe?” She huffed out a breath. “I don’t want or need your help. That list was intended for someone else.”
He paused. “You’ve got a boyfriend?”
“Yes.” She hesitated. “No. Well, maybe.”
“Which is it, yes, no or maybe?”
She fought a wave of exasperation. “All of them, okay! I have a boyfriend, a sort of fiancé, but we’re on a break right now. Not that it’s any of your business.”
“A sort of fiancé?” he echoed.
“It’s a long story.” She grabbed her clothes from the chair, then slipped her wet feet into her flip-flops. “You are the pushiest guy I’ve ever met, you know that?”
A thoughtful expression flitted over his face. “I’ve never been called pushy before. Endearing, sure. Charismatic. Drop-dead gorgeous. A real-life Michelangelo’s David. But never pushy.”
A laugh slipped out of her throat before she could stop herself. “A real-life Michelangelo’s David? Wow. You are so full of yourself, I don’t even know what to do with that.”
“You could do me,” he said glibly.
Her thighs quivered. Just a little. Oh, for Pete’s sake. She needed to get away from this guy. He was too freaking tempting, and right now, she needed to avoid temptation. She’d left San Francisco to think about her relationship with Bryce, not jump into a fling with a guy who had major over-confidence issues.
“I won’t even dignify that with an answer,” she said, taking a step toward the lawn. “I’m leaving now.”
He shrugged. “Suit yourself.”
She was halfway across the grass when he called, “Annabelle!”
Reluctantly, she turned. “Yeah?”
“If you change your mind, I’m in 2B.”
