Moving them across the floor, away from prying eyes, he led them in a dance so sensual, so erotic, his pants became too tight. Her breathing was labored and her skin flushed. He was glad to not be the only one affected.
Hard to believe he’d dreamed of dancing with her on that fateful night five years ago. Even harder to believe was the reality was so much better than the dream. Only, now, he didn’t feel like a pervert.
She was not his sister, nor was she a child anymore. When her eyes still avoided his, he exerted more pressure on her back. Their bodies touched again and stayed connected. With his other hand, he tilted her chin up, forcing her to meet his eyes or close her own. Either way, she had to acknowledge him.
Her body trembled in his embrace, not in fear, he was sure. Turning them around, he inserted his leg between her thighs and subtly rubbed back and forth. His palm slid down her back, fingers curving to fit her rear, while his thumb rested at the top of her shorts, stroking the silky skin beneath the tank.
Her pulse visibly jerked at his touch. She licked her lips, like her mouth had gone dry. His dark eyes finally connected with her emerald green irises and held, her pupils dilated, glowing like tiny chips of green fire.
His own flared with desire and carnal heat. Lorenzo wanted her more than he’d ever wanted another, and that was saying a lot.
Their bodies undulated, mimicking what he’d like to do with her sans clothes. Her moves matched his and upped him every time. With her face still held in his hand, he examined every inch of her beautiful features, committing them to memory. After what seemed like an eternity of scrutiny, he dipped his head, covered her shiny lips with his, and kissed her passionately. His tongue slipped inside her mouth, tasting, savoring the sweetness and heat within.
Angelina shuddered, and heat exploded in his groin, coursing through his blood.
He licked the inside of her lower lip, teeth nipping at the corner of her mouth, and he felt her surrender. He drew her tongue into his mouth, sucking the tip, the suction tight and rhythmic, reminding him of sex. He pictured his body thrusting into hers, her back arched, hips tilted, her body fitted to his. The vision so erotic he began to sweat, and still he kissed her.
When the song ended, he relinquished his hold on her face, his knee still parting her thighs, pressing up against her flesh. She was hot, surely wet, and so responsive. He gazed down into her green orbs for a long moment, stroking her flushed cheek with the back of his hand, feeling the warmth of her skin. “I plan to claim what’s mine,” he stated simply.
For a moment, she relaxed into him. He savored the feel of her soft, toned body. And then she withdrew. Even more shocking was the sense of loss he felt. His heart ached; he wanted more, needed more.
He let her move back, saw her inhale, exhale, and inhale again. Her breath escaped in a whoosh, hitting his chest with the warm air.
“I’m not a prize to be had, Lorenzo. You’d do best to remember that.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, baby.”
She narrowed her eyes like she was picturing him in a Chinese torture chamber, like the ones she and Gia used to coax him to put his fingers inside that would trap him as he tried to pull out. He thought of many ways they could each torment the other, and all of them involved a naked Angel, and him equally naked.
She turned on her heels, ass swaying so enticingly in the snug leather he whistled. Her long black hair swung around, followed by an angry glare directed at him. With short, loud stomps, Angel marched back to where he stood. He contained the grin his lips fought to do. Sparring with the little spitfire verbally made him hotter than ever.
“Oh my gawd, it’s him,” A tall, skinny blonde with legs up to her pits said.
“Excuse me?”
“It’s you, Jason Momoa, I heard you tend to get sexually frustrated when you’re away from your wife. I thought I’d offer you my services.”
The viper trailed her hand down his chest. She leaned in and rubbed her overinflated chest against his arm, the women with her giggled like school girls.
Lorenzo gripped her hands in a fist, opened his mouth to speak, but stopped at the words the little darling he was going to strangle uttered.
“Oh my, Jason,” Angelina whispered, loud enough for everyone to hear. “Your secret is out. Whatever shall you do?” she asked in her best Scarlett O’Hara imitation.
Yep! He was gonna make her pay. With his one free hand, he pulled Angel to his side as she tried to make an escape.
“You have me confused. My name is Lorenzo, and I own this club. I can assure you I’m not this Jason.”
“Are you positive, or are you only saying that so we won’t ask for your autograph because, I can assure you,” she purred and continued, “I don’t want your signature.”