Wilder bursts out laughing next to me. "Cliche," he grunts.
I don't pay him any attention. How can I when standing there in the middle of that stage is a shirtless Thorn Evans, looking like the answer to every woman's prayers. Something that every single screaming woman in the room confirms a second later when he starts moving with a grace I never would have expected from a man his size. I've never, not once, seen a man move like he was part of the music. His whole body creating a lust-filled energy of pure sexual demand making the room thick with erotic cravings by every pair of eyes witnessing this man move.
His tattoos come to life under the bright lights, but it's the carnal heat he's looking down at me with that does it--makes me feel as if I'll die without knowing what the man who can drive a room full of people insane with illicit hunger feels like when he's moving like that inside me.
"Your time starts now," Wilder continues.
Thorn jumps down from the stage and quickly straddles my legs--legs I have clenched together so tight, they hurt. Then he leans over my body, puts one hand on the back of my chair, and starts flexing his hips, grinding his crotch over me as if he was actually inside me. The sudden burst of jealousy I feel with others seeing him like this, when I have no claim over him, only makes me want to end this quickly. Then he grinds his erection against me, and I never want him to stop. My lord, he's making me be at war with myself.
"Five seconds." Wilder breaks through my thoughts. Thorn's gaze seems to heat, silently demanding me to give it to him, and he'll make it worth it.
And that's all it takes for the war in my mind to end. Rational thoughts break through, reminding me what we're doing here, and how I can get him to end this and take me somewhere where no one else sees him this way, and sate my hunger.
"Take me," I breathe, hypnotized by his scent, his expression, his ... everything. I could have sat here for the rest of the song and every single one that followed, this man lighting fire to every single inch of my body until I combusted, and I would die a happy woman. However, it's the thought of this man owning me that had me breathing those two words out of my dry mouth. My body so aroused, I feel like I might actually die without knowing what else the man grinding against me feels like when nothing separates us.
"Please," I continue at the same time Wilder calls time ... giving Thorn the one thing that he promised me I would do--beg him for it in thirty seconds.
The song continues, something I can feel with the deep bass, but every one of my senses is intoxicated by this man. He leans even closer, making me slide down until my bottom is halfway off the edge of the seat and he's touching me from crotch to chest, still rolling and thrusting his hips. His thrusts get slower, deeper, and harder against me as his head dips, and he bites the skin under my ear.
"I win you," he grunts, panting like he's out of breath.
When he lifts his head again, the male pride of his victory only makes him look more desirable. "Beg me again," he demands.
"Take me somewhere private and I will," I throw back, needing to get us alone right this very moment so I can do just that. Private means he'll stop teasing me, driving me insane with it, and make all the parts of me that feel empty, full.
He doesn't answer, but he does move with the beat to stand. My eyes travel down his chest, past the light dusting of hair that doesn't hide the ink that paints his skin, and over each hard ridge of his abdomen until they stop where his thumbs are hooked into the waistband of the sweatpants I didn't even notice he had changed into. Then he starts moving his hips in a new way; he moves each arm in tandem with the other, dragging each side of his sweats down with calculated measurements. All that is him, straining against the fabric as his pants drop lower. The short-groomed hair where the deep V of his hips ends makes way for what's begging to be let out to play--what I'm begging to come out and play with.
I'm going to die.
There's no way I'll survive it if he ... "Oh my God," I gasp at the same time he gives a jerk with both hands, and the sweats go down at the same time his erection springs free and slaps against his stomach.
I'm out of my seat, pushing against the table with such force it shifts under my weight, though I don't notice it for long because, with a leap, I'm in his arms, and the erection I want for myself is pressing against the very wet lace between my legs. I'm almost positive I felt part of my dress rip in my haste, but I couldn't care less if the whole back was wide open and showing the entire room my goods. Nope, not when I have Thorn's huge hands splayed over my ass, pushing me even harder against him.
There's nothing but desperation when I run my hands up his flexing arms until the slick skin ends and his silky hair tickles my fingers. There aren't words needed when my wetness is begging him for me. I lick my lips, causing his gaze to drop to them. I feel his groan against my chest, the music drowning the sound out and keeping it from me.
"I need you," I confess, tightening my legs around his back, feeling the heat of him against me. "I need you to fill me."
"Fuck," he hisses. "Don't want you out of my arms. Not at fucking all, but got to get my pants up if I'm going to get you where I can get my cock inside that pussy."
"Oh, my God, yes," I whine on a low moan, sliding my hips in a roll against him before I reluctantly untangle my legs and, with his strong hands on my hips for support I very much need, stand on my feet.
He doesn't miss a beat, reaching down and jerking his sweats up. The room gives a sound of disappointment when the show ends, and I belatedly notice another song playing. When that happened, I couldn't tell you. Heck, I couldn't even tell you if that was the only song played after the first one. Everything's a blur after hearing Wilder call time.
I jump when a shirt comes flying from my side. A shirt that Thorn must have expected because he catches it without looking away from me and shrugs it on. He grabs my hand, pulling my body against his side. I look up at him; the pulse at the base of his neck beating so violently, I can see it clearly in the dim room.
"Keys," he demands, and the haze of lust clears, reminding me I had been sitting with a man. I look over my shoulder at Wilder just in time to see him toss a set of keys to Thorn, wearing a roguish grin on his face. Thorn starts to turn us in the direction that we entered but turns back. "Never call me fucking rusty again, asshole."
Wilder's laughter follows us out into the warm night, the promise of what's to come still letting us ride high on its wave.
Please
Thorn's sleek sports car takes the streets of Vegas dangerously fast as he speeds expertly through traffic. The haze of desire I've been dizzy with since witnessing his performance on stage at The Alibi has caused me to hang precariously on the cusp of awareness ever since I did, in fact, beg him in thirty seconds to take me. I've never witnessed anything like it, but even in a strip club full of strangers, it was just him and me ... and what he did to my body. Now, here we are, rushing to parts unknown. The only sound heard over the purr of his car is our equally choppy breathing.
His deep and rushed, only broken up by the occasional grunt and deep vibrations from his chest. Without his confirmation, I can only assume his heaving is caused by wanting me as badly as I want him.
Mine, short and pained, my need ever-present in each inhale and exhale.
Mine, well, mine are also completely because of him and the hand he has between my legs.
Just thinking about how we got to this point makes my insides clench around his fingers and the coil deep inside my body tighten further. The strength of my arousal monstrous, climbing higher and higher with each ministration of his ridiculously talented fingers.
Thorn hadn't made it but a few steps from where I had been sitting in the club when it became clear I wasn't going to be able to keep up with his rushed steps. Only it had nothing to do with his giant-size legs and everything to do with the war raging inside my body rendering me slow and klutzy. I was up in his arms before I could blink, and it seemed a second later, we were both in his car, speeding
out of the parking lot. Before we reached the first traffic light, his hand was on my thigh. When a whimper left my lips, he started moving that hand slowly toward the apex of my thighs. However, I'm pretty sure it was my needy gasp echoing around us that had him hooking his fingers into my panties to move them out of the way and entering me without pause a moment later.
The rest, every second that passed that led us to where we are now, is just a blur of arousal and unimaginable talent from him. He was stringing me tight, and I was seconds away from snapping.
It would be huge.
It would be overwhelming.
It would be ... everything.
"Don't come," Thorn strains through tight lips. His hand, the one between my spread legs, shifts, and the two fingers inside me go impossibly deeper. I hiss in a breath, close my eyes tightly, and roll my head against the leather holding it up. "Don't you fucking come until I get my mouth on this pussy."
"I can't ... it's too much ... oh, my God, what are you doing to me?" I shudder, feeling it build higher inside me.
It takes everything I have in me to hold back. The instant attraction I've felt toward this man since the first time I saw him walk into Trend just proving I was right in trusting my gut about this--the powerful rush of sensations roaring through me is like nothing I've ever felt.
Nothing.
Mind and body.
All-consuming.
Overwhelming.
Full-bodied.
There isn't an inch of my skin that doesn't feel the burn of my need. Not a single sense that isn't drowning in him. The desire for more making me feel drunk with need. For him.
"Thorn. Please."
"You won't come. Don't you fucking dare," he grunts, his fingers twisting and plunging into my body.
The car takes a turn that has me shifting against the door, him not slowing down, and I hear the wheels screaming in complaint against the asphalt. Not once does his hand stop, the rhythm holding steady. The tail end of his car jerks side to side for just a second before I feel the jolt of us accelerating again. My thighs press together against his hand. Unfortunately for me, instead of that stopping his movements, it pushes his fingers deeper and allows him to continue while hitting something delicious.
"Ohhh," I gasp. "I'm going to..." My belly tightens and jerks in tandem with my core, and I feel the flutters of my orgasm starting.
Then he jerks his hand from between my legs. The loss of him instant.
"Fuck!" he bellows, slamming his palm against the steering wheel. The same hand that had been only a second away from giving me what promised to be the most intense orgasm I have ever felt in my life.
I roll my head against the seat and look at him through hooded eyes. There's no indifference in his handsome face now. He's clearly just as impatient as I feel. He glances over and lifts his fingers to his nose, inhaling deep with a groan before looking back at the road. One that I echo when he places those fingers between his lips and sucks.
"Goddamn," he hums. "Never tasted anything better."
I don't look away, watching him clean my arousal off his fingers. When he finishes, placing his hand back on my thigh and leaving it there, I still can't look away. I was so lost in him, I didn't even realize until we stopped that we weren't at the house I had visited in The Orchard.
"Where are we?" I ask, my voice wobbly.
"Does it matter?"
I think about his question. Do I care where I am? I should. I should, but I don't. It makes no sense at all, but I trust him not to do anything to me that I don't want. Reckless? Maybe. But I'm not going to ignore how he makes me feel or overanalyze what this is between us.
He's given me back something I lost for a long time ... desire for another, and confidence in myself, without the fear I normally have holding me back from connecting with someone.
He's given me no promises aside from what I know will be a ride worth taking.
I don't need hearts, flowers, and promises of forever.
That didn't work the last time.
So, this time, I'm going to finish living in the moment with no regrets.
"No, I don't think it does."
I know I answered correctly when he gives me something I hadn't seen often from him--his full-blown and heart-stopping smile.
Holy. Cow.
Yeah, this will be worth it. In the morning, I'll figure out what to do next. Tonight, I'm going to enjoy the heck out of this man.
"Wait there," he says deeply, shutting the car off and swinging out.
I keep my eyes on him as he walks around the hood, coming to stand at my door. I have to clench my legs together again when I catch sight of his erection pushing against his pants.
Good heavens above, that alone is worth whatever happens when this night is over.
The door opens, and with his help, I'm standing next to him. The intensity in his gaze makes me sway on my heels. His hands are on my hips before I can do so much as move an inch, preventing me from falling at his feet. We stand there, staring at each other until I can't take it any longer. My intention must have been clear as day because all I do is bend my legs slightly, intending to climb this man like a damn tree, and he's helping lift me off the ground until my legs are around his hips and that beautiful bulge between his legs presses against my oversensitive parts.
"Please hurry," I beg, licking my lips before nipping the skin on his jaw. His answering growl vibrates my chest, making my nipples even harder. I rub against him, chest and crotch, needing so much more than I could even imagine. "Kiss me," I continue, needing to know what his kiss tastes like.
"No." His rejection stings, but I push it down, taking what I can get.
His first step jolts my body, making me gasp. His hands tighten on my hips painfully. I continue to hold on, kissing and licking his exposed skin. I couldn't even tell you how much time passed. The second he started walking, I became incapable of doing anything more than running my lips and tongue over the thick column of his neck. His bruising hold on my hips thrusting my body against his rock-hard heat with each step, purposely driving me insane.
It isn't until I'm flying in the air, the clutch I just noticed was between our bodies going flying with me and I land against silken sheets, that I get a sliver of awareness back. He stands above me, next to the bed I landed in, panting rapidly and stripping his clothes away.
He doesn't look away, and neither do I. Even when he's pushed the last layer off his body and down his hips. Even when he reaches down to place his hands on my ankles, yanking me to the edge of the mattress with a tug, I hold his gaze.
I gasp.
He grunts.
Then one of his brows is up, and I'm being spun to my belly.
I jump when his fingers graze the top of my dress's zipper, a low mewl leaving my lips when he drags it down. His lips trail his touch, kissing my skin as he exposes it. I relish in the tenderness of his actions. That is, until he gets to where he exposes my bra, then I lose the soft care, and the beast comes out. A hiss of appreciation bursts from his mouth, and then the rest of the zipper is jerked open, ripped from my body quickly, and I'm once again on my back. His hungry eyes roam over my body, stopping to enjoy the red lace that's left covering me.
"Planned on taking my time. Didn't expect this, though." His words, whispered but strangely harsh, make me shiver. His fingertip glides over the top of my lace bra, right on the swell of my breasts. His eyes looking down between my legs. "Tell me to fuck you. Tell me I don't need to play with this pretty pussy for you to be ready for me. Tell me to fuck you so hard, you'll never forget how I feel filling you up."
"Please."
He shakes his head, his finger moving down my stomach and stopping at the top of my lace panties.
"Tell me to own your pussy, Ari."
"Please," I gasp again, feeling like I'll pass out if I don't have everything he's offering at that moment.
He leans down, mouth hovering over mine. "Say it."
I shake my head, my
hands reaching out until the heat of his back is against my palms, and I try desperately to pull him on top of me.
"Fuck me, Thorn. Own me, Thorn. Make my pussy yours, Thorn," he continues. "Say. It. Now."
"Please." I gasp as his mouth closes around one lace covered nipple, biting and sucking. "Fuck me, Thorn. Own me and make my pussy yours," I rush out, needing it.
I hadn't even finished before he was lifting his body, hands to my hips, and ripping my panties from me with little effort. He only pauses to reach over to the side of the bed, coming back with a condom in hand. My hands roam over his exposed chest while he makes quick work of rolling it on. His abs clench under my fingertips, skin dancing with goose bumps, showing me what his words aren't.
Then, my God, then he pushes my body up the mattress at the same time as he surges inside of me. He goes so deep, I cry out in pain while begging him to never stop in the same breath. Stretching me unlike I've ever felt. Our bodies coming together wildly. He flicks my bra open with practiced ease before bending and pulling my nipple into his mouth, sucking deep. He moves between the two, his hands curling around my shoulders to pull me down against each powerful thrust.
I do the only thing I'm capable of doing. Hold on. His muscles ripple against the hold I have on his back, and I curl my fingers until I know my nails will leave a mark. My legs, hooked around his hips, make it easy for me to rock my hips to meet each jarring thrust. Mouth open, I scream out my pleasure as I clamp down around his length. My whole body coming alive as my orgasm rushes through me.
Giving him me.
Being owned.
And I feel the scary knowledge enter my brain the second he seats himself impossibly deep, twitching inside me and shoving his face into my neck with a groan ... that I will never be the same.
Then he moves again, grunting as he finishes enjoying his own orgasm, a rush of wetness leaving my body as I come again, just from one deep glide of him finishing inside me.
Unfortunately, it didn't even occur to me that, while I was experiencing something so magnificent, the man who gave me that hadn't once kissed me. It didn't even enter my thoughts that, as he climbed from the bed and walked toward a doorway across the room, I might be in over my head.