“That’s my girl,” he said proudly, slapping me gently on the butt.
I flicked my hair back and strutted to the living area. What was I doing? Marking Decker as mine? What if he didn’t want to be mine? What if I didn’t want to be his? Hell, I had fallen into the Decker fantasy far too many times over the years to delude myself into thinking I didn’t want something between Decker and me. But he was a porn star for Pete’s sake! Ex-porn star, I reminded myself. Suddenly, my mind whipped back to reality when I realized I was standing directly in front of Decker and everyone around me had gone quiet. What now? I was certainly not going to pee on him. Vanessa gave me a curious glance, not even attempting to put any space between her and Decker. I spun around and reached for my stereo. Oh my god, I couldn’t do this, could I? I flicked the player on and skipped to song three. I gave Casey a panicked look, but he was watching me with wide eyed excitement, the kind of look a girl’s daddy might reserve for graduation day. He looked so darn proud, I simply couldn’t disappoint him. Carrie Underwood’s, “Cowboy Casanova” filled my apartment. This was a take it or leave it moment, an instant that would be burned into my memories and brought up at Sunday dinner with the grankiddies. I was as nervous as a whore in a church, but I would kick my ass if I woke up tomorrow knowing I had been too chicken to do this. One life affirming moment coming up.
As Carrie began singing about her Casanova, I began dancing for mine. I had taken lap dancing classes in college, so I was all over this baby. I rotated my hips and swung around to give Decker my back. Casey squealed and Imogen laughed loudly as my hips moved, my hands ran up my body, through my hair and stayed up above my head. Then I leaned forward and grabbed my ankles, gracing Decker with a great view of my flannel covered ass. When I felt the warmth of his legs behind me, I turned around and used my knees to part his. I swiveled my hips as I danced in front of him, and I was filled with a surge of confidence at the obvious lust in Decker’s honey colored eyes. I rested my hands on the back of the couch so my breasts were directly in front of his face; the move also forced Vanessa aside. Vanessa the Undresser might have stripping down pat, but no one danced over a lap like me. I climbed up on the couch and turned around so my ass was directly in front of Decker, and I began to sway my hips again. Not really feeling the same sturdy stability of the floor beneath my feet, I stepped down from the couch and straddled Decker’s lap. My hips kept moving in time with the music, my head was thrown back, my long hair free and floating around me in a haze of rocking and swaying. The cat-calls behind me spurred me on. I wasn’t just feeling the music, I was breathing it which had helped me tap into my inner vixen. The heat in Decker’s eyes, well hell, that kinda made me feel like Wonder Woman. I didn’t stop, not once, my body all fluid motion, constantly touching Decker in some way. It was the single most empowering moment I had ever experienced. My lap dancing classes most certainly called for a lap to dance on, and it was usually my hapless roommate, Samantha. Dancing for a man, for Decker, was a whole other kettle of fish. When the song finally drew to an end, I swung around to level Decker with a stare that would hopefully encompass everything I was feeling in that moment. He obviously got it as his hands snaked out and dragged me back into his lap. Then he kissed me, and it was no pansy-assed chaste kiss. It was one of those rated R, way too hot for public kisses. His tongue was moving against mine, dipping and tasting, delving so deep I lost track of whose tongue was in whose mouth. His lips were soft and warm, moving over mine with an expertise I refused to think about. I hadn’t kissed many men, but the few I had were sloppy and clumsy. I usually pulled away feeling as though a Great Dane had mauled my face. Decker though, wow, he kissed like a man who had spent his life perfecting the art. He finally drew away from me, leaving a gentle, tender kiss to the corner of my mouth that belied the fierceness of our connection.
“Your five minutes are up,” came Lionel’s whispered voice from somewhere behind us.
“Home time!” sang Casey.
When I went to pull away, feeling more than a little embarrassed over my brazen hussy moment, Decker’s hand gripped my thighs and pulled me forward until I was pressed against the hard, hot length of him. Holy bejeezers, the heat radiating from him was scorching and too tempting. Damn, I wanted this man like I wanted to breathe.
“Thanks for the game and the wine,” Decker murmured, his eyes never leaving mine.