11
“I HAVE A SURPRISE for you,” Yasmine said as she killed the car engine.
Alex peered out the passenger window and a saw that they’d stopped in front of the Pink p-ssycat, an upscale strip club that catered to men with money to burn. Surely not their final destination. This just happened to be where she could find parking.
“What did I do to deserve a surprise?”
“You fulfilled my fantasy, remember? Now I want to fulfill yours.”
“But…how—”
She leaned over the emergency brake and kissed him, ending his question. “Don’t ask how. I’ve got connections.”
He cast a glance at the Pink p-ssycat again. “You mean, we’re going in there?”
“They’ve got peep show rooms.”
For once, Alex found himself stunned speechless. He’d told her about his peep show fantasy on a lark. It was something he’d never told anyone and something he’d never imagined actually doing.
“We really don’t need to do this, you know. Some fantasies aren’t meant to be acted out.”
“Hush,” she said. “Just get out of the car.”
She got out, and Alex followed suit, trying to imagine just what she had planned. He walked with her to the entrance of the club and followed her inside, where dark corridors were lit with blue lights. After following a velvet-roped walkway, they emerged in the main club.
A large, U-shaped bar dominated one side of the club, and a stage dominated the other side. Dance music blared from speakers overhead, and on stage, a lone blonde did a pole dance for an audience of eight or ten guys.
He watched Yasmine’s gaze slide over the whole scene without reacting. While he, on the other hand, found his natural guy instincts having a hard time looking away from the near-naked female in the room. He forced himself to keep his eyes on Yasmine.
She flashed a mysterious smile and took his hand. “I think the peep show is this way,” she said as she led him toward the back of the club.
God help him. This woman, this setting, this crazy weekend—he was pretty sure the rest of his life was going to be damn dull in comparison. But he followed Yasmine anyway. If this was going to be the most exciting weekend of his life, he might as well take full advantage, peep show and all.
Yasmine stopped at a door bearing a sign that read Private and opened it. “Have a seat in here,” she said.
“Where are you going?”
“I’ll be in soon. No more questions.” Her eyes full of mischief, Alex felt himself growing hard in his pants. So damn predictable.
“Okay, but hurry,” he said as she urged him inside the small room and closed the door.
Alone, he found himself with a comfortable recliner chair, a side table bearing a drink, and nothing else. He sat and saw the sliding panel on the wall, right at his viewing level. For a peep show. His erection grew. He leaned back in his chair and picked up the perspiring glass of amber liquid.
A sip confirmed that it was whiskey and Coke, and he tried to focus on the burning sweet taste of it, tried not think too much about what may or may not be about to happen on the other side of the peep show panel. Yasmine had been full of surprises, and today was no exception. But he didn’t want to get his hopes up, or imagine the wrong thing, or…
He heard footsteps on the other side of the panel, and he set the drink aside, then leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. The position put him inches from the peep show panel. A sultry dance song began to play over the speakers, and the panel slid open.
He peered through and saw a woman dancing, rocking her hips to the beat. It only took a second for his brain to register that the woman was Yasmine.
Her arms lifted overhead, she moved her hips back and forth, around and around, in a dance that was blatantly erotic without being raunchy. She wore a black latex bra and panties, with thigh-high black boots, and she didn’t look at him. Rather, she danced as if no one was there, as if no one was watching.
She twirled slowly around, giving him a view of her firm, perfect ass clad in thong panties, and the air left his lungs. He reminded himself to breathe—in, out, in, out.
Sweet heaven, she was hot.
Yasmine trailed her hands down her torso as she danced, then up again, cupping her breasts, lingering over her nipples, and then slowly unclasping her bra in front. When it fell down over her shoulders, she let it drop to the floor, then continued to fondle her breasts without the hindrance of fabric.
Alex’s cock strained against his pants, and he wondered if it was acceptable to jack off in a situation like this. Or was he supposed to wait until she’d finished her dance and came to him?
When she pushed her breasts up and together, then dipped her head and licked herself, first one nipple, then the other, he didn’t have any will left to hold out. He unfastened his pants in a hurry and started stroking his cock.
Abandoning her breasts, she slid her hands back down her torso, and as her hips gyrated, she hooked her thumbs in the sides of her panties and slid them slowly down her hips, turning as she did so. She bent over, giving him a full view of her p-ssy, and stepped out of the panties, then kicked them aside.
Another gyrating turn put her face forward again, and still, she made no eye contact with him. She seemed totally into herself, into the dance, completely focused on her own body, and the effect was seriously hot. He slowed the stroking of his cock to keep from coming too soon, and watched enthralled as she dipped her fingers between her legs and started stroking herself.
Oh, hell. He wanted her like crazy.
He’d broken out in a sweat. Could feel it dripping down the insides of his arms, felt it on his brow and upper lip. His entire body was heating up, tensing, overcome with that same trembling desire he’d come to associate with Yasmine.
Still stroking herself, she spread her legs and started working her way downward into a squat, ending with her legs spread wide in front of the peep show panel. She reclined on one arm and continued to stroke. Alex’s mouth went dry as he watched her fingers glide between her lips, inside her opening, out again, in again.
She was moaning now, her eyes closed, her show completely convincing, outrageously erotic. The music changed from the midtempo dance beat to something slower, and he couldn’t take it anymore.
“Get your hot little ass in here,” he said.
She opened her eyes and looked at him for the first time. Stopped stroking herself and leaned forward. “No talking allowed,” she said in a breathy little voice.
“This was fun and all, but I’m going to come in my pants if you don’t get over here, and I’d much rather come in you.”
“I’m sorry, sir. We’re not allowed to interact with the customers.” She gave him a look that was pure steam. “Now please, sit back and enjoy the show.”
From somewhere he couldn’t see, she produced a shiny black dildo. Crawling back away from the window again, she held the dildo to her mouth and licked it the same way she’d licked him, and, on her knees now, her legs spread wide, she gyrated her body slowly to the beat as she brought the dildo down between her legs and stroked it against her *.
Alex’s breath grew quick and shallow, and he all but abandoned his own pleasure as he found his attention completely focused on watching hers. Her eyes were closed again, her face softened with pleasure, her mouth open as she moaned and gasped. When she pushed the dildo inside herself, he nearly came.
A few more strokes, and he’d be there. But he couldn’t. Couldn’t miss a second of this show. She moved the rubber cock inside herself, clearly lost in her own pleasure, seemingly oblivious to the sweet, delicious pain she was causing him.
And then she brought it back out, caressing her breast with one hand and stroking the dildo against her * with the other, rocking her hips against it, gasping hard…. He could see the tension building in her body, could see the moment before her release, so when she gave that final cry of pleasure, he knew it as if it were his own body.
Wanted to be there as if it were his own body. Felt weak and spent as if it was him and not her.
She recovered, and for the second time, made eye contact with him. She crawled to the small window. “I hope you enjoyed the show,” she said in that same sex-kitten voice, right before shutting the panel in his face.
Alex looked down at his forlorn cock resting outside his pants. Surely she didn’t mean to leave him hanging. That definitely wasn’t part of the fantasy.
But just in case, he eased his boxers and pants back over his erection and did his best to zip up. Suddenly the small black room with the dim lights appeared to him as the airless box it was, and he wondered if he was supposed to leave now or stay put.
Unsure, hot and frustrated, he downed his drink in a few swallows and then rubbed the damp glass over his forehead to cool himself off.
A second later the door opened, and Yasmine stepped in and closed it behind her. She was wearing a white robe and the black boots, and when she let the robe fall open, he saw that she was still naked beneath it.
He opened his mouth to commend her performance, but she shushed him before he could get a word out.
“I’m not supposed to consort with the customers.” Still with the sex kitten voice. “But this once, I can make an exception.”
She shrugged off the robe and crossed the small space between them, then swiveled the recliner so that it faced away from the wall. Then she bent down and tugged the lever on the side of the chair so that it reclined all the way. That done, she climbed on and straddled him.
“There’s an extra charge for…personal services,” she said as she unzipped his pants and took out his cock.
“Whatever it is, I’ll pay it.”
He saw now that she held a condom packet in her hand. She opened it and slid the rubber on him. “What sort of services would you like?”
This was so much hotter than his fantasy, so much better than what he could have imagined, he couldn’t think of anything but burying himself inside her at that moment.
“I want to be inside you.”
She mounted his cock. Since she was already wet from her own orgasm, he slid inside her with no resistance, and he expelled a pent-up sigh. Silently she began riding him, her movements slow and deliberate, her gaze locked on him.
With her breasts so close to his mouth, he couldn’t resist tasting them, couldn’t resist squeezing them together and relishing their soft fullness against his hands, against his tongue. “Is that allowed?” he asked belatedly, enjoying their game more than he ever would have suspected.
“There will be an extra charge,” she said. “You kiss, you pay.”
“Can I touch you?”
“Yes,” she said, and he slid his hands over her torso, around her hips, to her ass.
He pressed her harder against him, coaxed her into a faster pace as the sweet tension mounted inside him. A few more strokes was all it would take, but he wanted her there with him, wanted to give her a little bonus for the hottest sex show he’d ever seen.
Slipping his fingers down, he caressed the cleft of her ass, dipped his fingers in, found her most sensitive spot and massaged her there. She gasped and ground against him, contracted around his cock, almost with him…A little more, and she’d be there…He pushed farther, flexed inside her, tried hard to hold himself back until just the right moment….
She came hard, bucked against him, cried out, and he let himself go, too. Just the way he’d wanted it. He spilled himself, felt the pure, white-hot release shooting out of him again and again, his cries mingling with hers until she collapsed against him.
He could feel her heartbeat, listened to their breathing, which slowed to normal again as minutes passed, and finally she stirred. She sat up and looked at him curiously.
“Merry Christmas,” she said. “It’s a little late, but I hope you liked it.”
“Thank you,” he whispered, unable to summon the energy for full-on speech. “That’s the sexiest present I’ve ever had.”
The sexiest, the hottest, the most addictive. How he would ever convince himself to stop wanting Yasmine, he didn’t have a clue.
CASS HAD NEVER DONE IT with a nerd. And now, on her way home from a perfectly wonderful dinner with Drew, she was torn between her physical desires and her more practical ones.
Decked out in her new baby-blue Christmas sweater, black leather skirt and matching knee-high boots, she’d dressed to get laid tonight, and, judging by the way Drew had stared at her throughout dinner, she was well on her way to achieving her goal.
But…
But what? She’d be a fool to let her unexpected fascination with Drew spoil her otherwise happy life. She’d finally figured out that she didn’t really want or need a man in her life, hadn’t she? She’d come to terms with her own unconventional desires, and now this? It was stupid. If she was as smart as she claimed to be, she’d take care of her physical urges and send Drew on his way before he caused any disruptions—before the inevitable crappiness that went along with every romantic relationship worked its way back into her life.
When Drew’s car stopped in front of her apartment, she knew without a doubt she wanted to invite him up and find out what nerd sex was all about. All night long, she’d been surprised by the way her expectations of him and reality failed to match up. She’d found him endearingly sweet and genuine and interesting to talk to—none of which helped with her plan to remain single and happy.
Here she was bucking the normal female response again. Wasn’t she supposed to be thrilled when she found a guy she really enjoyed being around? Wasn’t this cause for celebration rather than angst?
She’d been with all sorts of men, but different as they’d been—some lone wolfs, some party guys, some charismatic leaders—they had all shared the one indefinable quality that equaled coolness. Drew, cute and nice as he was, did not possess that quality.
And something about his unapologetic geekiness fascinated her in a way she never could have anticipated.
She’d lost her mind.
Drew cleared his throat and turned to her. “So…”
“So,” she repeated, gazing across the darkened car at him.
“I had a really great time tonight.”
“Me, too.”
“I’d like to see you again,” he said, and Cass’s mouth went dry.
She wanted to see him again, too. She did, but she didn’t. She didn’t want complications, she just wanted sex. Didn’t she?
Of course she did.
“Come up for dessert,” she said, taking the straightforward approach.
“Don’t you have to work tomorrow?”
“Yeah, so?”
“I do, too. I’ve got an eight o’clock meeting,” he said, glancing at his watch.
“Are you saying you don’t want to come up?”
“No, I want to, I just—”
It’s just that he really was so endearingly clueless about women, he couldn’t figure out when he was being propositioned for sex.
“Worried about feeling a little sleepy in the morning? Drink some coffee.”
He smiled then, a crooked, unrehearsed smile that she found charming. “Okay, I guess I can stay awhile.”
Seriously, she needed to get laid. ASAP.
She needed some hot, sweaty sex to clear her head and remind her of the sole way men had proven useful in her life.
He got out of the car and came over to Cass’s side to let her out, then escorted her up the sidewalk as properly as if they weren’t about to get it on.
All night, he hadn’t dared to make the slightest overt move on her. His restraint was charming in a 1950s sort of way. Definitely another first for Cass, who was a magnet for dogs of all kinds.
“Want some coffee?” she asked as she let him in the door.
“You have decaf?”
“No.”
“I’d better not then. I get jittery.”
“How about some warm milk?” She flicked on the hallway light, then the kitchen light.
“Are you making fun of me?”
“Possibly. But you’re such an easy target, I should stop.”
He gave her a look she couldn’t decipher, and she decided she’d better quit being a smart-ass.
Having proven herself on Christmas Eve completely inept at using the kitchen for its original intended purpose, she saw no reason not to find a new use for the space.
“Are you a dessert man?”
“I can be tempted by the right thing,” he said, his breath tickling her cheek. “I like pie.”
“What kind of pie?”
“Cherry’s my favorite.”
She leaned in and placed a kiss on the side of his neck, then pulled back. “No cherries here.”
“What do you have?” he asked as his gaze traveled between her eyes and her mouth.
“Some leftover sweet potato pie, but I made it, so it tastes kind of awful.”
“I’ve tasted your cooking—it’s not bad.”
“You’ve tasted my finger. My dinner party, however, was a disaster. I burned almost everything except the stuff that didn’t need to be cooked, and that stuff I managed to screw up in other ways.”
“Some women’s talents are best revealed outside the kitchen.” He ran his finger along the neckline of her sweater, then down and around the outside of her breast, sending a chill through her.
“I’ve got talents that can be demonstrated in the kitchen—just not the traditional kind,” she said as she edged her hand up his inner thigh, stopping just short of his crotch.
“Care to show me?”
“I was hoping to serve you something sweet, though. I did invite you for dessert, after all.” She bit her lip, trying to think of anything she had in the apartment that wasn’t burned or stale.
“I thought that was just your excuse to get me up here and have your way with me,” he said, smiling.
“It was both, but I don’t like to make empty promises.”
“I’ll forgive you.”
“I’ve got some flavored coffee syrups. You can at least have something sweet in your coffee.”
“I like my coffee straight, no frou-frou stuff.”
“Me too. The syrups were a Christmas gift…. But maybe we could find some other use for them.”
“What kind of use do you have in mind?”
“Definitely not what the manufacturer intended.”
“Sounds like my kind of dessert.”
Was she really have this conversation with this man? This man who’d spent the evening making her mostly forget to have an attitude? This man whose atrocious fashion sense and inability to dance hadn’t done a thing to dampen her desire for him?
She needed to stay focused, keep her mind on the fact that this was sex for sex’s sake, not getting-to-know-you sex, or let’s-be-intimate sex, or promise-of-something-more sex. It was just plain, opportunistic sex.
“Wait a second,” she said, then went in search of the box she’d gotten.
In the pantry, there it sat with a bow still stuck on it, a gift box of four flavored syrups. She grabbed it and tore open the packaging, then placed each bottle on the counter next to Drew.
“French vanilla, mint chocolate, hazelnut and raspberry. Which one do you want to try first.”
“Honestly, I don’t want any coffee.”
“I don’t mean in coffee. I mean, try on me.”
“Try on you?”
“On me,” she said, tugging her sweater over her head, getting down to business before he could do anything else sweet and disarming.
Underneath her sweater, she wore a purple-and-black lace bra that she absolutely was not going to taint with flavored syrup. She reached behind her back and unfastened the clasp, then let the bra fall to the floor.
Drew’s gaze was fixed on her bare chest now, his mouth slightly agape. “I’m sure you taste fine without syrup,” he said, sounding distracted.
“I do, but that’s beside the point.” She unzipped her skirt and slid it down her hips, taking her time, wriggling around enough to put on a proper strip show.
Now there were just her boots and her panties, which had matched her bra but which were also pointless in the face of flavored syrups. She hooked her thumbs on each side and slowly tugged them off an inch at a time. The boots could stay. They might not have been practical, but they were great for effect.
Drew’s gaze had dropped lower, was pinned now on the apex of her legs. “You’ve got an amazing body,” he said.
He was being overly generous. She had an okay body and a better-than-average sense of self-confidence. She’d learned long ago that men could be pretty well impressed by any woman who stood tall and acted proud of what she had, regardless of her imperfections. And one of the most important things stripping had taught her, surprisingly, was that self-confidence was the sexiest attribute a woman could have.
“Thanks,” she said, going for the bottle of raspberry syrup.
She unscrewed the top and climbed up on the counter, then straddled Drew, who was sitting on a bar stool. When her breasts were mere inches from his mouth, she tilted the syrup bottle over them and let the liquid drip onto one nipple, then the other.
A whoosh of breath expelled from Drew’s chest. “Damn it, woman…”
It was the first time she’d heard him use profanity.
“You don’t like raspberry?”
“I love it,” he whispered, then took one of her nipples into his mouth and began to suck.
Warm fuzzies spread from her breasts to her crotch, as Drew’s hands traveled up her inner thighs. Say what you wanted about his fashion sense, but the man had a way with his hands. His touch, so appreciative and undemanding, left her feeling like a sex goddess, like a woman made for pleasure.
He licked the syrup from her breasts, then moved his kiss to her mouth, standing up from the bar stool and sending it crashing to the floor behind him. He tasted like hot, sweet raspberries, and Cass, with all her smart-ass attitude, couldn’t think of any place she’d rather be than in his arms right then, syrupy sweet as it was.
He pulled her against him and pressed his erection between her legs, rocking his hips lightly and stimulating her where it counted.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked, all tenderness and retro charm again.
She realized then that Drew wasn’t really an all-out nerd so much as he was a brainy, old-fashioned guy. But old-fashioned guys needed to get laid, too, right?
“Of course I’m sure. You have protection?”
“Yeah,” he said, then pulled out his wallet and produced a condom. They’d probably need more than one, but she had a stash in her bathroom for later.
His glasses were all steamed up. “Can you see without these?” she said as she removed them.
“Everything’s a little blurry.”
Good, then he wouldn’t notice the tiny flaws that continued to appear on her body the older she got and the longer she spent away from the stage. She set his glasses aside and started unbuttoning his shirt.
He had a nice chest, smooth and kind of firm, with flat pink nipples, and his belly, while it was certainly no six-pack, had its own masculine appeal. There was no way to explain what was so damn attractive about Drew, and she’d be interested to see if she was still as hot for him after they got it on as she was now. Was his appeal hormone-induced or lasting?
It didn’t really matter, though. Because she had to remember, this was sex for sex’s sake.
She opened the fly of his pants and pushed aside his briefs—tighty whities, just as she would have guessed—to find his hard cock waiting for her. Now here was a part of Drew no woman could argue the appeal of. He was thick and long, more than enough to satisfy.
She sheathed him with a condom, and he eased himself into her one delicious inch at a time. Slowly at first, they found their rhythm, locked together, taking their time tasting and kissing.
This was just sex, just sex, just sex, she tried to tell herself, but there was no denying how it really felt. No denying that some kind of magic was happening between them.
For the first time in years, Cass felt as though she was being made love to, as though the joining of their bodies was for some other purpose besides an orgasm or two.
And all that unexpected tenderness made her even hotter, so that when he was finally moving frantically in her with their destination in sight, she was right there with him, overcome with too many emotions to name.
He leaned her back on the counter, and bottles of syrup toppled over, rolling off the countertop and shattering on the floor. The uncapped raspberry syrup bottle spilled and created a sticky sweet pool near Cass’s left shoulder, and moments later, when she came, bucking hard against him, she didn’t give a damn that her hair got stuck in the mess.
Drew silenced her cries with a long, soft kiss that ended in his own orgasm. And his breath, his moans, were muffled in her hair until he stilled moments later and looked her in the eyes.
“You’re incredible,” he whispered.
“So are you,” she said.
For once, it wasn’t just pillow talk—or counter talk, in this case. She meant it.
But damn, why couldn’t he have been ordinary or dull or a total a*shole? Why was it that when she’d finally found true happiness, the universe decided to hand her the one thing she’d been absolutely sure she didn’t want?