“What’s your name, beauty?” he whispers into my ear. His hands move from my hips to my thighs, brushing his fingers against the swell of ass. I feel the draft hitting my naked skin, and if he pulls my dress up any further, the club will get one hell of a show. It might be crazy or just a testament to how badly I need some action, but despite meeting this man just yesterday, it feels right. Regardless of the fact that we are in a public place, my body wants this and my mind is catching up. His fingertips caress my skin, making slow, deliberate sweeps. My body presses tightly to his, and the heat from his chest makes my erect nipples burn. “Mmm, fuck . . . you feel like fucking heaven.” His blue eyes are burning into my own, begging for permission to drag me away from here.
I look around for the girls, and after a few sweeps of the club, find them at the bar, openly gawking at the spectacle we must be making. Dee is laughing so hard it looks as though she might fall off the stool. The dark haired man behind her is too busy shooting daggers into her back to pay us any attention. A blonde God next to him is laughing just as hard as Dee. What in the hell is so funny? Emmy is sitting silently as usual, but her attention isn’t on me and Greg. No, her attention is on the tall, broody man next to her. My eyes meet Izzy’s, and I can tell she is holding it back, but wants to laugh just as hard as everyone else. And with thick arms around her shoulders, pulling her tight against his body is, you guessed it, a laughing Axel.
All of these people have lost their damn minds.
Greg brings me back to him as I feel his fingers move closer to my center. My center that I’m sure is doing a bang up job at leaving a wet spot on his leg. I might play a good game, but this man is making my resistance crumble. I am a fool to think I can ignore this chemistry.
Bringing my hands up to his chest, I push off slightly. My body ignores my mind’s request to disengage contact with this fine as hell man. “Cage, Uncle Greg, was it?” I ask, pulling every little bit of my inner snark out.
His laughter rumbles up and vibrates my fingertips, causing me to pull my hands back. He uses this opportunity to crush my body into his. I have no choice but to wrap my arms around his neck when he bends down and brings his lips back to my ear. He is still rolling his hips with mine to the beat of the music, and when his erection presses firmly into my belly, I can’t help the half gasp, half moan that crawls up my throat. He answers with a growl of his own and squeezes my ass between his large hands. “Your body wants this as bad as your mind does. I can feel how wet you are. Come on beauty, let’s get out of here.” His lips crawl slowly down my neck, and I feel his teeth clamp down lightly before he sucks lightly.
Is this motherfucker sucking my skin?
I’m about to offer him one hell of a slap in the face when I feel his hand slip around the front of my body, back under my skirt, and his fingertips brush against my screaming core. Shocks zap from my clit to my toes, arms, and head, making me feel like I might fall to the floor.
“Do you taste as good as you feel? Warm and juicy? Like a ripe peach that’s mine for the picking?” He rumbles in my ear, swirling his thumb against my swollen bud. As loud as my mind is screaming to push him away, my body is screaming even louder to hold the hell on and let him take me right here in the middle of the club.
He brings his hand up, and before I can even blink, he has his thumb in between his lips, sucking my arousal off his finger.
Holy fuck.
He brings his face close to mine, until his lips are just a breath away. “Ripe enough to fucking devour.” And then, he crushes his lips to mine. My gasp works in his favor, and his tongue moves in, caressing and rolling with mine.
Minutes. Seconds. Hours. I have no clue. This man has shorted every cell in my brain. Shut it all down. I am working on complete autopilot, but enjoying every fucking second of it. Until I hear a shrill voice shriek in my ear.
“Who the fuck is this bitch?” Err, what? It takes my mind a second to register what the fuck that bitch just screamed. Detangling my hands from Greg’s messy brown locks, I turn on wobbly legs and face the person behind the annoying screech.
“What the hell did you just call me?” Seething is a good word to describe the way I am feeling in this exact moment. Greg has effectively wound me tight, and then forgot to press release. Lucky or unlucky, depends on which side of the coin you’re on. This bitch is going to be the perfect person to help with that.
“Does that belong to you?” I ask Greg. He looks pissed, but not ashamed. Interesting. “Excuse me, Greg. Is this shit yours?” I ask again, pointing my finger at the malnourished bimbo in front of me.
“No,” He finally says, trying to pull me back towards him by my hips, “She definitely does not belong to me.”