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“I want to live a little,” I whisper. We don’t break eye contact until the thump of glass on the bar in front of me breaks off the stare. Who is this sultry woman? It’s my voice, but I’m never this forward around men.
I’ve always held back in the bedroom, worried about meeting my partner’s needs, never pushing what I want.
Until now.
There’s something in me I want to unleash.
“Knox?” The bartender speaks, and I hear the question in his voice.
I break contact to find they both are smiling as if they’ve shared insider information that’s above my pay grade.
Knox. Even his name is hot. I roll it around my mouth while I take a long hard pull of whisky and try not to cough as it burns down my throat, then warms my stomach. This is strong, but delicious. I take another slug.
“Nice to meet you, Knox.” I stare at him, my gaze roaming over him and his large hard body. Again, that blistering stare steals into my soul, eating me from the inside out.
“What’s your name, beautiful southern girl?” he asks in a deep voice dipped in a sexy Scottish voice.
“Georgia Presley Henry,” I say in a long, southern drawl.
His gaze flicks to my mouth, and his pupils dilate.
“Well, Georgia Presley Henry.” He catches my hair and twists it around his massive paw. The image of him fisting my hair while I’m on my knees while he takes me from behind flashes into my brain. “Are you here for business or pleasure?”
My face flames when I catch his smirk as if he knows exactly what I’m thinking.
“Business, but I’m hoping for some pleasure.” My gaze drops between his legs, and I break out in shivery goose bumps.
Awareness flashes across his face and a lazy grin curves his full, pouty mouth. A mouth I want on mine. He scoots his stool closer. His scent is delicious. No cologne but a mixture of the wintery outdoors, soap, and him. I can’t help a tiny moan from escaping. It’s been a long time since I’ve smelled something this good that didn’t come from a manufactured bottle. This is utterly delicious. Will he taste the same?
“You want to taste me, beautiful Georgia?”
Heat flushes my face. His look isn’t awareness anymore. It’s downright dirty. “I said that out loud?”
My momma would hose me down if she could hear me. But, I want this man. I want him sliding in and out of my body. I want his mouth on my clit, his fingers working my ass. I want my mouth on his cock while he looks at me with smoldering eyes. I want one night with this man. One night of fun, messy sex to relieve the need in my pussy, the throbbing ache of a real man. Not one who doesn’t care what I want, but a man who’ll know exactly what I need, and right now it’s this man buried so deep in me I forget my name.
“Dance.”
It isn’t a question, but a statement that pulls me out of my sex-fueled fantasy that has my body tied in knots, my mind in the gutter, and my panties wet. For a moment, I’m confused. Had I been staring at Knox so long that I didn’t hear the band start playing? Because they are. A mixture of alternative music. G Flip, The Strokes and Sticky Fingers. My kind of music.
Knox’s big, warm hand guides me to the dance floor, his fingers branding me through my jeans at the small of my back. A possessive hand. God, I’ve missed a real man with big hands, and a gruff voice that commands instead of presumes.
The pulse of the music vibrates through to my bones. I sway in time to the G Flip’s ‘Lover.’ The song is heart-breaking and beautiful and pierces my heart. The lights are low, the scent of clean sweat, beer and a mixture of perfume and aftershave stains the air. Bodies bump and grind against each other. A group of girls dance in the corner, abandoning their bodies to the music, laughing, not caring how they look.
I salute them. One catches my eye and smiles.
Knox and I stop at the back of the dance floor, and he spins me to face him. My hands are in the air, and I rub myself against him. He sticks one of his thick denim clad thighs out, and I climb onboard, stroking myself, angling my throbbing clit against his leg. Arching, I can’t find the right angle. At his growl I look up into his smoldering eyes, his mouth slightly open, looking pissed off, frustrated, and something that I can’t interpret, but it makes me want to unzip him right there and take him deep into my mouth and own him.
I grind against his cock, hard and straining. My nipples are needy, wanting his mouth, his hands, kneading. I moan. He growls and nips my neck and spins me, so my ass is grinding down on his cock. God, the thought of his cock in my ass… I wilt, and luckily his big, strong arm saves me. I don’t care if anyone can see. I’ve lost my mind, but his cock at my backdoor pushes me closer to orgasm. Hemmy has been my secret fantasy, my lead into my ass being branded by a man.
Now I know who.
By Knox.
I grind onto his hard, hard, cock, arching my ass into him.
Close, I am so close to having an orgasm on a dance floor with a stranger in a strange city, and I don’t care. All I feel is my body shuddering against his.
His breath, with its spicy touch of whisky inflames my ear. He nips my lobe, which only sends another tremor through me. God help me; I moan.
