The guy yells into my ear, “Can I buy you a drink?”
I’m about to say yes, when I see quick movement out of the corner of my eye.
It’s Riley.
He grabs the guy and tells him to get off me. The guy is coming back, ready to punch him, but Riley raises a finger in the air and bouncers collect my former dance partner and escort him off the dance floor.
It’s really kinda hot.
But then he wraps me in his arms like he used to and kisses the top of my head. It’s a sweet gesture.
One that makes me want to start crying.
But then he gives me a naughty smirk and puts his hands all over my ass. I do the same while pulling him into my body and grinding against his leg. I’m trying like hell to grind against his dick and make him hard like he was when we kissed earlier tonight.
He smells like expensive cologne and alcohol.
And this reminds me of nights spent dancing after curfew.
We dance the night away. Although, I’m not sure this should be categorized as dancing.
It’s more like foreplay set to music.
I’m all worked up, barely able to control how much I want him.
This so wasn’t my plan.
I was going to talk to him first.
See if we could become friends again.
Then, maybe, we could be something more.
When he squeezes my ass, I care less about my plan.
I just want him.
I move my lips toward his and he full on attacks my mouth.
Grabs my neck and forces me to keep kissing him.
Like I’d ever try to stop.
Our kisses are ravenous, hungry. I’ve been starving for him all this time.
“I’m taking you home with me now,” he commands.
And I don’t dare say a word, for fear he might change his mind.
I just nod yes.
He grabs my friend, hands her off to Knox—as in the hot movie star, Knox freaking Daniels—and tells him to make sure she gets home safely. Then he wraps his arm around my waist and staggers out to the valet.
“Are you drunk?”
“Just a little,” he says. He used to say the same thing when I’d ask him if he loved me. He’d give me that handsome smile and say, Just a little even though he meant a lot.
“I’m driving then.”
“Whatever, as long as we get there,” he says, as a sleek black luxury sedan pulls in front of us.
He tips the valet a hundred and tells him I’m driving.
“Yes, sir, Mr. Johnson. Good to see you again.”
Riley slides in the passenger seat, presses the home button on the GPS, and says, “She’ll tell you where to go. I’ll be too busy.”
“Too busy doing what?” I ask as I pull out of the parking lot.
“This,” he says, sliding his hand between my legs.
I know I should stop him. I know that this is cheating on my husband. And I’m not a cheater. I’ve never cheated on anyone. But I can’t for the life of me bring myself to stop him. Not when I’ve wanted and dreamed about this for so long.
He kisses my neck, which makes it difficult for me to concentrate on the road.
And it becomes even harder when he slides my thong over and roughly shoves his finger inside of me.
“Oh!” I say, startled by the suddenness of it.
“Do you want me to stop?”
“No,” I moan. His long fingers have always felt like they were made just for me.
And they have become even more masterful. I’m groaning with pleasure and am close to orgasm when the navigation tells me we’ve reached our destination.
A valet opens my door.
Riley is already next to me, his arm wrapped around me, his lips on my neck, leading me through a pair of massive glass doors.
“Looks like it’s going to be a good evening, Mr. Johnson,” the doorman says.
Riley ignores him, pulling me down a hall, and then sliding a key into an elevator set off to the side.
He pulls me inside, kissing me and shoving me hard against the wall.
“I can’t wait to fuck you, kitty,” he says, calling me by the nickname he gave me in high school.
I melt into his arms and kiss him with voracity.
“I want the same thing,” I say as his tongue forces its way into my mouth.
One hand moves to cup and squeeze my breast, the other slides under my ass, and I know exactly what he wants. I jump up and wrap my legs around his torso.
“I want you right here,” he says, pushing my dress up and ripping off my thong while I’m unzipping his pants.
The elevator dings.
“Don’t move,” he says, putting his arms under me and carrying me through the door while we’re still hooked together and ravenously kissing.
He lays me down on the closest surface. A couch, I think.
I’m shoving my hand down his pants, eager to free him and have him inside me, when I hear a loud squeaky voice yell, “Riley!”
We stop and turn toward the noise.
I see a pretty blonde with huge boobs, barely held in place by a couple skimpy pieces of leather.
“Shelby, what the hell are you doing here?” Riley asks, quickly standing up. “How did you get in?”
I pull my dress down over my exposed crotch as she pouts, “I’m surprising you.”