Learning Curves

Chapter Two





He’d forgotten how good it felt to perform. There was something almost electric about dancing, about moving in time to a great piece of music and giving expression to the notes the musicians hadn’t played as much as the ones they had. Now as he circled the outermost edge of the platform, working free the buttons of his white dress shirt, he gazed into the darkness and tried to gauge tonight’s crowd.

June had always told him that a good dancer dances with the audience, not just for them, so as he moved, he peered out at the audience, trying to make out the faces visible beyond the perimeter of the stage. T’Shaun was right—the women were lively and vocal tonight, determined to enjoy themselves.

He slid his shirt off his shoulders inch by inch. A suggestive catcall distracted him. Moving in time to the raucous hoots of approval, he paused and a woman tucked dollar bills inside his waistband. He spun around, reveling in the feel of his body moving easily after so long. It might not be sex with a warm, willing woman but it was damn close.

Then he saw her.

She sat in the middle of the room, at one of the large tables. Against the bright lights of the stage, he couldn’t make out details like what she wore or the color of her hair. What was so arresting was her stillness. Absolute stillness, her eyes completely focused on him.

It wasn’t the fact that she was watching him that turned him on. Hell, he was used to that. Nor did the seemingly stunned expression of burgeoning sexual arousal differentiate her from the hundreds of women who’d watched him in the past.

What made this woman so distinctive was the awe and respect in her gaze as she watched his performance.

His cock twitched and jerked. Just knowing this woman watched made him hard. He couldn’t remember the last time something like that had happened while he performed. If ever.

He glanced at her again and this time, she met his look, her eyes wide, her lips slightly parted. Never breaking the connection between them, he began to strip off his pants, rolling his hips in time to the urgent strains of Coltrane’s saxophone. Her eyes were riveted to his body and the growing bulge being revealed inch by inch by his methodical striptease. She licked her lips and Brandon felt another rush of blood to his groin, this time so strong and urgent he nearly missed a step, shifting his weight awkwardly to recenter himself in time to the music.

He’d danced like this, stripped like this, hundreds of times, and he’d never gotten so carried away. Or so turned on. The fantasy he inhabited seemed, in this suspended moment, startlingly real. As if they were alone in an otherwise empty room and his teasing movements were only a lead-up to the inevitable. A private erotic prelude that made them both horny and aroused, so that when they finally touched, when he finally kissed her tight nipples and let his fingers slide into her slick cleft, stringing her along on the edge of orgasm before sinking his desperate cock into her welcoming p-ssy, it would be electric.

The frantic hooting of the women around the stage brought him back to reality. Christ, he’d gotten rock-hard, lost in his fantasy, without even realizing it. Because for those few stolen moments, his performance hadn’t felt fake at all. His pants dropped away and he picked them up in time to the music. Get a grip, man. Brandon chided himself for getting so carried away. But as he moved to dance away across the stage, the urge to let her know he’d seen her watching and felt the connection, however momentary, overcame him.



He winked.

Leanne wasn’t sure whether to put her face in her hands or just dive underneath the table. But there was no denying this dancer’s magnetic force and the wild sense of sexual potential that emanated from him. Watching him, she’d even forgotten where she was. For one brief moment, it really had seemed as if they were alone and he stripped just for her.

Strong, defined muscles outlined his chest and arms, his abs tight and firm. His dark blond hair was cut short and his face conveyed a strong reserve Leanne found strangely appealing. Self-contained, even watchful, behind his overtly sexy, chiseled persona. She could relate to that sense of self-containment—she experienced it every day.

But it was more than just his body or his looks, as magnificent as they were. His performance had been truly magnetic. Unlike the dancers who performed earlier in the night, there’d been an ease and fluidity to his movements. He didn’t just move to the music, he played a duet with his body. And for a few moments, he’d been dancing just for her.

Wishful thinking. For pro like him, his job depended on making every woman feel special, but still…The need to see him again overwhelmed her. She wanted to know if the crazy thrumming sensation he’d fired up low in her belly was a fluke or if it could be magnified, taken further. Maybe, if she—

“Did you see him?” Gillian’s throaty whisper interrupted Leanne’s fevered planning. “He couldn’t take his eyes off me.”

“Y-you?” A shiver of apprehension threaded through Leanne’s gut as she came down to earth with a crash.

Was Gillian right? Had she totally misunderstood his intentions? After all, what guy would be interested in her, with Gillian sitting only feet away? And on the heels of that lowering thought, another, more bitter one. Why does she always get the good guys?

Gillian peered at Leanne scornfully. “Well, duh. The guy was sporting a total hard-on. I’m sure they jerk off before they come on stage to maximize their take and all but you could totally see it when he tore off his pants.” She paused, considering. “You know, maybe I should hire him for my own private performance. It’s not like the ring’s on my finger yet.”

The bridesmaids tittered but Leanne felt deflated.

“You’re getting married,” she argued, struggling to be heard above the music. “You’d jeopardize that by fooling around with some guy you met in a strip club?

Gillian shrugged. “Right. Like Jeremy won’t take it while he can still get it.” She turned back to the stage and peered at Brandon. “He’s yummy and totally hung. So what if he’s just some himbo dancer? This is my night. And what I want, I get.”

In a burst of determined activity, she opened her purse and extracted a business card.

Leanne watched as she quickly scrawled a note on the back. She was too far away to read what it said but it wasn’t hard to guess its contents. She bit her lip to stay silent when Gillian called over one of the servers and held out the card between manicured nails.

“Could you see that my note gets to the dancer who’s on stage right now? I’d like to talk with him after the performance and was hoping he’d have a little time to spare me.” The waiter nodded and Gillian slipped the card—and some cash—into his front breast pocket. The whole party watched as the young man wove his way through the tables, toward the door marked Employees Only.

Gillian smiled and smoothed her flawless hair before whipping out a compact to daub her nose with powder. Shame her morals weren’t as perfect as her makeup, because there was no compact big enough to hide those flaws. Turning back to the stage, Gillian watched the dancer possessively, a tight, predatory smirk on her enhanced lips while the rest of the hen party tittered and gossiped.

Leanne’s heart sank. When it came down to it, she didn’t like Gillian. She never had. She’d seen firsthand how she lied and manipulated the people around her to get whatever she wanted. Over the years, Gillian decided rules of fair play and honesty only applied to other less deserving people, not her. She played up her beauty and her delicate blond appeal for all it was worth—and in Gillian’s mind it was worth an amazing amount. To date, it seemed as though she was right, because she’d never been called to account for her flagrant transgressions and grandstanding. But Leanne liked Jeremy. He was, despite his wealth and family connections, a good guy, straight-up and honest. And for some unknown reason, he was crazy about Gillian.

Personally, Leanne thought he could do better marrying just about anyone else. But she wasn’t comfortable sitting by and doing nothing while Gillian planned out-and-out infidelity. Maybe if she appealed to the dancer’s better nature, she could stop this whole mess from going any further. If not…Well, at least she would have tried. She’d learned the hard way that Gillian didn’t brook open defiance of her dictates, but that didn’t mean she had to abdicate her own standards either. She just had to go about it more subtly this time.

“Excuse me. I—I have to go to the washroom.” Their eyes fixed on Gillian’s anticipated conquest, no one at the table even bothered looking up when Leanne grabbed her purse and hurried toward the door that led backstage.

A quick glance assured her that the bouncers were occupied at the entrance and the bartenders were overrun with drink orders. Now all she had to do was convince the dancer not to take Gillian up on her offer. Then she could leave and her awful night would finally be over.

Backstage was a rabbit’s warren of small rooms and dimly lit corridors. Leanne discovered the cleaning supplies, bar stock and the mechanical room before she finally located the door with a handwritten sign marked Dressing Room.

Pushing it open, Leanne found herself in a tiny room with makeshift counters and a motley collection of furniture, including a battered sofa that bore years of wear and tear and a small fridge that hummed noisily in the silence. Along one wall, above the worn countertop, someone had hung a bank of mirrors and above them, a row of small globe lights. They were off and a single fluorescent fixture illuminated the utilitarian space.

Gillian’s business card was propped up against the mirror, next to a small radio handset and a neatly folded pile of street clothes.

Moving quickly, Leanne pocketed the card but not before reading the note Gillian had penned on the backside.

I like what I see and I’d be happy to make it worth your while if you’re willing to show me more. G.

Ugh. Leanne couldn’t imagine propositioning any man as baldly as Gillian had—she really did have no qualms about going after anything she wanted, did she?

Refusing to get side-tracked by her nemesis’s amorality, she crammed the note in her pocket. She hurried back to the door and opened it a crack. A thunderous round of applause and whistles reverberated from the stage. She slammed it shut. His set must be over. She had to act quickly or she was going to have a hard time explaining her presence here. To Brandon or Gillian, for that matter. Leanne being hauled out by bouncers wasn’t something that would escape Gillian’s notice, no matter how many fruity drinks she’d consumed. And if she learned of Leanne’s interference, there’d undoubtedly be hell to pay.

Yet even as escape plans tumbled through her mind, she remembered the torturous sense of excitement she’d felt watching Brandon perform. How her body had responded to the mere promise of his sexual prowess. And experienced a fleeting moment of regret that she hadn’t been able to talk to him after all.

Only in her wildest dreams could she ever imagine seducing a total stranger, but she would have liked a chance to see if the peculiar magnetism he’d exerted on her body had been real or just a fiction of her overheated, under stimulated body.

Well, she thought wryly, turning the doorknob once more, on the bright side, at least I have a new star in my vibrator-induced fantasies…



Offstage, Brandon shrugged into his robe and made his way back to the dressing room. He’d forgotten the rush of dancing in front of a live audience. They’d been jazzed up tonight, calling him back for two encores.

Pausing outside the green room, he thought about going back on stage again more regularly. Fact was, he’d missed it. Not every night, of course. But once in a while…It might be fun.

He opened the door, still distracted by the idea of a return to the stage, and stepped inside, eager to change.

And plowed into a warm, softly scented body.

His arms came up and he felt the whoosh of her breath as he knocked her back into the room. He came to a screeching halt just inside the door.

“I’m sorry,” he said, tightening his hands around her torso to stabilize her, and got his second shock in as many seconds. Whoever he’d flattened definitely wasn’t June. The woman squirmed free of his hold and knelt to gather the small purse she’d dropped in the collision. She looked up from her knees, meeting his eyes reluctantly. He did a double take.

Holy crap! The girl from the floor. His brain seized at the sight of her face, his voice harsher than intended. “What are you doing in here? This is off-limits to patrons.”

Standing now, tucking her purse over her shoulder, she licked soft, pink lips and grimaced. “Looking for the ladies room?”

He scoffed and she blushed, the scorching color rising across her cheeks at the obvious untruth. His eyes swept over her, taking her in. Pretty, in an understated sort of way. Her shoulder length hair curled around her heart-shaped face, and just a hint of makeup highlighted her features. Not tall, but the way she held herself gave the impression of height. She had great legs, shown off to good effect by a knee-length denim skirt and a pair of tall black boots. Her sweater revealed a few details he hadn’t been able to make out from the stage, namely some seriously tempting curves.

Understated but classy. And appealing as hell.

“You should have turned left at the bar about three hallways ago,” he chided, trying to marshal his face into an appropriately stern expression.

She was looking at him a little unsteadily, two bright spots of color on her cheeks. He tried to take heart from the fact that she wasn’t as composed as she appeared at first glance.

“Look,” he continued when it was obvious she wasn’t going to tell him why she was there, “I don’t do private dances, so you need to leave.”

Another flush of color rose across her pale cheeks. Her eyes sparkled, whether from embarrassment or disappointment he couldn’t tell. But the deep blush set off her dark hair beautifully. He swallowed and tightened the belt of his robe. Given that five minutes ago he’d been next door to naked in front of two hundred women, he knew his newfound modesty was ridiculous, but he still felt underdressed.

Even as he told her to leave, he couldn’t help but wonder if her skin colored the same way when she came. Did her breasts and neck flush in the grip of sexual passion? Would she be as bold during sex, taking the lead and showing him how he could please her? Brandon took an involuntary step toward her before he remembered he wasn’t interested in touching her. He was interested in getting her out of the room.

Yeah, right, his conscience chimed in, and I’m the Tooth Fairy.

“I’m not here for that,” she protested, and he’d been so distracted by the inappropriate nature of his thoughts, it took him a moment to recall his last words. Then she frowned. “So you don’t do private lap dances? Really?”

“No,” he said, trying to decipher her tone and failing. Disappointment? Or relief? “I never have. I only stepped in tonight because a dancer canceled at the last minute. Normally, I’m back of the house. I haven’t done a show in a couple of years.” He shook his head, dismissing his explanation as unnecessary. “But you still need to leave. This area isn’t for the public.”

“Oh.”

She looked so absurdly pleased when told he didn’t dance that Brandon wondered if he’d misjudged her. But something still didn’t add up. Even if she wasn’t here to seduce him—he tried very hard to ignore the disappointment that swept through him—she was still plenty nervous, biting her lip and twisting the chain of her purse into tortuous knots.

“Well, then, I’m sorry I bothered you. I’ll just show myself out and let you get on with whatever it is you’ve got to do now.”

She edged toward the door. He reached out and closed his hand around her wrist, impeding her flight. Her quick intake of breath sounded loud in the silence and her eyes darkened, although her expression remained stubbornly noncommittal.

“You came back here for something. Why don’t you just save us both some time by telling me what it was,” he said. “My guess? Sex.”

She gasped at his bold charge. “No.” She paused. “Well, yes, but not really.”

“Which is it?” he replied, and she sighed.

With her free hand, she dug into the pocket of her skirt and handed him a rumpled business card. He studied the tiny picture and read the note before tossing it carelessly onto the dressing table.

“Pretty girl. You back here to broker the deal?” he said cynically, trying to ignore how soft her skin felt beneath the pads of his fingers.

She shrugged. “No. The plan was to make sure you didn’t.”

“I don’t follow.”

“Gillian’s the reason I’m here tonight. It’s her hen party. You know, rhinestone veil, raunchy gifts. The…uh…”

“The stripper?” he supplied, and she nodded. Her explanation didn’t add up, though. In his years at the club, he’d been accosted by more than one giggling and inebriated bride or bridesmaid. This woman’s palpable discomfort was something else entirely.

He took a stab in the dark. “So you wanted to save her from a fate worse than death, then? Keep her pure for the honeymoon?”

She giggled, then pressed her lips together, clearly struggling to contain her mirth. “Gillian? Are you kidding? She may look like an angel but she’ll screw anything on legs. I was actually thinking about Jeremy, the guy she’s supposed to be marrying.”

A surge of jealousy rocketed through him at her mention of the groom’s name. How the hell could he be jealous? He didn’t even know this woman.

“What’s so special about Jeremy?” he asked, trying for an even tone.

“He’s a good guy. And he doesn’t deserve to hear about his fiancée catting around two weeks before they tie the knot. What she does afterward is her business, but before?”

“Well, you can rest easy. I’m not in the market to provide stud services. I dance. Period.” Her face lit up at his avowal. She was a pretty girl when she wasn’t smiling, but when she did, she transformed from run-of-the-mill to dark-eyed and exotic. The pull of attraction he’d been fighting strengthened. “When I’m with a woman, it’s because we both want it. Not because she’s paid me.”

Her eyes widened at the suggestion implicit in his claim. He breathed deeply, trying to tamp down his rising need. She wore some kind of perfume. Fruity, with a hint of lemon and maybe vanilla. He didn’t recognize it but whatever it was, it was intoxicating. Brandon stroked his thumb against the tender flesh of her inner wrist.

Stroke. Stroke. Stroke. Tiny circles. So small, they were almost nonexistent, and they shouldn’t be having this mesmerizing effect on him. The slight hitch of her breath told him she was turned on too. He wondered what it would feel like to run his fingers across more of her body—the vulnerable column of her throat, the delicate skin behind her knees, the full mounds of her breasts. He moved closer, unable to focus on anything but the slight pressure of his thumb against her skin, incredibly aroused by this barely there touching.

Later, he would swear he’d meant to let go, that he’d opened his mouth to apologize for his unwarranted and forward behavior and to ask her to leave for good. He’d never be sure, because his next words took him by complete surprise.

“I saw you tonight,” he said softly as he stepped even closer. She didn’t resist his gesture, but tilted her head back to keep looking in his face.

Her eyes were dark and uncertain. A fine scattering of freckles dusted her nose. She swayed slightly as she licked her lips and Brandon felt his cock grow even harder when her breasts brushed against his chest.

“Saw me?” she said in a husky tone.

“From the stage. When I was dancing,” he murmured. He stepped even closer, until there was barely any space between them. He could feel the tight beads of her nipples through his robe. His cock surged, and he knew she could feel his erection pressing into her hip but he didn’t back away.

His mouth was only millimeters from her ear as he traced her jaw. He stopped at the corner of her lips. Either one of them had only to move a fraction of an inch for their mouths to meet. He wanted to kiss her so badly but forced himself to be still as he whispered, “You were sitting so still, but I knew you were thinking about me. Tell me, what were you imagining I was doing to you?”

Their eyes met, the unspoken answer hanging between them, drawing them even deeper into a bewitching, erotic haze.



As she looked into his face, his eyes dark and inscrutable in the poorly lit room, Leanne couldn’t forget the sensations he’d aroused in her while she watched him onstage. Or the fantasies he’d called forth. She remembered thinking earlier in the night that there was no way she’d ever be turned on by the dancers and the illusions they peddled. Hubris. The word suddenly popped into her mind. That was what the Greeks had called it. Because this stranger turned her on in a serious way.

The faith and confidence he had in his body, the smooth, almost musical way he moved, whether onstage or in the small space of the dressing room, combined to strip away her natural reserve and caution, compelling her to seize this charged moment.

The walls’ thick soundproofing muted the music from the club, softening it to a rumbling hint of bass. The sound seemed to beat in time with her heart even as the silence between them stretched out. Blood pulsed through her body. Her breasts were full, and warmth seeped through her body, settling between her legs, making her wet and turned on.

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt like this. So ready, so hot. Even when Steven was around, their sex life had never been spectacular. By the time they’d broken up, it had gotten to the point where Leanne could darn near time the whole thing. Start to finish, nine minutes. Nine brief, unmemorable minutes. Routine and boring and…

Leanne didn’t want to be routine anymore. She didn’t want to play it safe or by the book. Because the way Brandon looked at her made her feel dangerous and giddy and out of control. The way she imagined in her daydreams but never in real life. Until now.

Desire burst over her. This close, his face only inches from her own, she could see the small scar on his jaw and the remnants of his stage makeup.

“I was thinking about how it would feel to kiss you,” she confessed, her voice thick and languorous.

“Where?” he asked. He dipped his head the smallest degree and tasted her trembling lower lip. As their warm breath mingled, Leanne melted, her whole body overrun with need, until she felt more liquid than solid.

“Everywhere.”

A gleam of satisfaction lit deep within his blue eyes.

“What do you think we should do about it?” he asked, his voice a low growl.

She wanted to kiss him but her reservations made her hesitate. He tilted her chin up so their eyes could meet.

“You don’t do this very often, do you?” His voice was still dark and aroused but an undercurrent of gentle amusement eased her nerves. She relaxed a little into the circle of his arms.

“What’s that?”

“Take the lead in a one-night stand.”

“Is that what this is?”

“Certainly looks like it to me.”

“You have experience, then? No-strings-attached sex?”

His lips crinkled at her bluntness. “Some.”

“How much is ‘some’?”

“Some,” he repeated, brushing his lips along her throat. “I don’t do relationships as a general rule. Not my thing.”

“Funny. I don’t remember asking you for one.”

“No, you didn’t. But what’s between us right now won’t be anything—not a fling, not an affair, not no-strings-attached sex—until you tell me what you think we should do about it.”

It was his restraint that decided her. If he’d been crude or obnoxious or tried to rush her, she would have walked. But despite his all too evident need, he’d waited until she was certain this was the course of action she wanted to embark on.

She knew nothing about him but she knew enough that she couldn’t wait any longer.

“This,” she replied fiercely. And shoving aside her doubts, she kissed him.

His lips were firm, and when they opened against hers, his tongue, smooth and hot, slid into her mouth. It wasn’t an elegant kiss but the connection set off a fuse within her and she intensified the embrace greedily, their tongues clashing, taunting, inflaming.

When he released her wrist, his strong hands stroked effortlessly across her body. He buried them in her hair with a groan, and his fingers threading through the tousled strands brought her into even closer contact to his surging body.

Touching him was suddenly an imperative.

Not pausing to consider her actions, Leanne ran her hands across his chest, reveling in the firm muscles flexing beneath her fingertips. His robe gaped open where their bodies met and her questing fingers found the sash. Never breaking contact with his mouth, she wrestled with the knot until she worked it free. The robe slid down, off his shoulders, and puddled on the floor.

She nearly purred at the sight of him, her thoughts muddied by pounding, feverish need. It overwhelmed the clamoring voice of caution shouting in her mind. The only thing she could hear now—the only thing she wanted to hear—was his voice saying More. Faster. Deeper.

Now she could touch him like she’d imagined while she watched him dance. But the reality was better than her fantasies. Far, far better. The feel of his skin, the tang of his sweat when she licked the strong cords of his throat. Each small gesture immediate, intense and intoxicatingly real.

Pulling her sweater over her head, revealing her bra, Brandon took her breasts in his strong hands. He rolled them together before caressing her nipples. His hands sought the clasp of her bra, undoing it with a deft snap.

His large hands, rolling the taut peaks between his fingers, sent a charge through Leanne’s body. She was wet, her pulse rapid, her flesh aching for his touch. And when he bent down and suckled the nipple, drawing it into his mouth and laving it firmly, Leanne thought she would come right there.

Suddenly she couldn’t wait. She needed his cock now. In her mouth. In her body. She didn’t care which. If she didn’t touch the rigid flesh, she might self-destruct.

She reached with greedy hands toward his straining erection and stroked the hardened length, pressing her palm against him. At her touch, he gasped. She worked quickly, freeing his cock from the confines of his g-string, and wrapped her hand along his erection. She caressed him firmly, from base to tip, and he swore.

“Christ! Where’d you learn to do that?”

She laughed and repeated the gesture, delighting in the feel of his tight abdominals clenching and contracting with each stroke. “I’m a perennial student. I’ve spent a lot of time at school.” She squeezed, running her finger up and down his length. His skin was soft and velvety, but underneath was an undeniable rigidity. She moved her hands more quickly and he buried his face against her neck, his breath coming in harsh pants as he licked and kissed her shoulder.

“A,” he said. “I give you an A.”

She pouted playfully. “Just an A? I’ll have to try harder, then. Much, much harder.”

She twirled her hand around the tip even faster, running her finger along its sensitive underside, and a few drops of come seeped out. She wrapped her palm around his girth, the liquid lubricating the glide of her hand, stroking him with firm, unrelenting movements.

“Ahh…” He let out a murmured, strangled noise, half plea, half promise, “A-plus! A-plus!”

Leanne smiled, luxuriating in her newly revealed power. She found it incredibly erotic, knowing she could drive such a gorgeous man so perilously near to losing control. This was what she’d dreamed about. Forgetting the rules and silencing her fears. Taking charge had never felt so good.

Trailing openmouthed kisses across his chest, she pushed him backward until his knees met the sofa. As he tumbled down onto the waiting cushions, Leanne sank shamelessly to her knees in front of him. “That’s good,” she said, “but now it’s time for another lesson.”

“Another lesson?” He groaned as she wrapped her fingers around his shaft and sucked him into her mouth. His fingers wrapped into her hair as she took his cock in, deeper and deeper.

She looked up from between his legs and smiled wickedly. “So, do you think I’ve qualified for advanced standing?”

His hips lifted from the sofa as she took him into her mouth more. She ran her tongue, broad and firm, up the shaft before she enveloped him, sucking harder and harder. His hands clenching at the sofa, he trembled and shook at her ministrations until he reached down and pulled her onto the sofa beside him.

“Very advanced. Very standing,” he said, his breathing heavy. “So far this has been a very one-sided lesson. Let’s see if we can’t even things up a little.” His face flushed with passion. “For one thing, you’re still wearing too many clothes.”

He stripped her of her skirt, throwing it onto the heap of their discarded clothing. He pressed a fervent kiss against her panties, and another rush of desire surged through her body.

“The boots, though. Those stay on.”

She couldn’t control the blush that swept over her at his command but he didn’t laugh. In fact, he seemed utterly absorbed in the process of uncovering her body. The ravenous hunger on his face shocked her.

Compared to him, she was so average looking. What could he possibly see that would incite such heat? He hooked a finger on each side of her briefs and wrenched them down over her hips. At the brush of his hands against her body, she lost her train of thought, physical sensation swamping her doubts and uncertainty.

Brandon knelt between her legs. He smiled, displaying an unexpected dimple, and ran a tantalizing finger down her smooth leg. Wrapping his fingers around her booted ankle, he draped it over the arm of the sofa, revealing her slick pink folds to his seductive gaze.

Looking down at her own body, she watched in awe as he slowly stroked the gleaming flesh, brushing against her *, before oh so slowly sliding his fingers inside. A second finger joined the first. Her body clenched and trembled as the beginnings of an orgasm danced at the edge of her consciousness.

Still stroking her, he leaned in and planted his mouth between her legs, suckling the tiny bud at the top of her folds. With his free hand, he guided her hands to her breasts. Suddenly transported beyond shame, beyond anything but intensifying the maelstrom of incredible sensations, Leanne obeyed, teasing herself even as he teased her too.

His fingers.

Her hands.

His tongue.

The orgasm, when it came, ripped through her like a hurricane, and she cried out in ecstasy.

But he didn’t release her, continuing to lick her, swirling his tongue down, around and inside even as a second wave of release swept over her in torrents. She bucked against his mouth in a jerking, mindless spasm.

“F*ck me! Please, f*ck me!” Leanne didn’t recognize the jarring voice, it sounded so foreign and imperious. With a start, she realized she had spoken those words. The only thing she knew, the only thing she cared about, was that if he didn’t take her now, she would implode with wanting.

The coarse words galvanized him into action.

“Please tell me you’ve got a condom,” he begged, his voice hoarse.

Clambering to her hands and knees, Leanne scrabbled for her purse, abandoned in their flurry of lovemaking. Desperately rummaging through it, she hunted for the tiny packet she’d been condescendingly given earlier in the evening by the maid of honor. With a prayer of thanks, she quickly handed him the small square.

She watched as he unrolled it over his straining cock with surprisingly unsteady hands and opened her legs wide in invitation. He plunged deep inside her, thrusting and surging without reservation. He filled her, pumping and stretching her. It felt incredible. Her body began to convulse against his, and she uttered broken words of encouragement.

He strained and surged again. Leanne came apart too and cried out in concert with his incoherent admonition of pleasure.

He sank down on top of her, his weight heavy but not unpleasant, as their breathing slowly returned to normal. An unfamiliar lassitude stole over her limbs.

Wow, Leanne thought, if this is what great sex feels like, I finally know what the fuss is about.

The sound of the door opening niggled at her daydream. Her eyes snapped open in alarm, a look reflected in the face of the naked man still lying on top of her.

But there was nowhere to hide, and when the exotic dancers entered the room, Leanne knew the fantasy was well and truly over. Tumbling over themselves in their haste to exit, they apologized. Leanne had to acknowledge that Brandon was doing his level best to shield her from their view but as they backed out the open door, they laughed raucously. “Christ! I didn’t know he had it in him.”

She closed her eyes in shame when she heard the other one guffaw. “Or in her!”