“Me too, but that’s not on you.” I have a thousand other thoughts whizzing through my brain, but they all die as I soak in the rise and fall of her teardrop breasts, the slight part of her luscious lips, and the mixture of hope, candor, and resolve to take what she wants. Splaying my hand across the small of her back, I tug her closer and tap my lap. “Come here.”
She hesitates for only a beat—one filled by the ostentatious vocalists onstage and the provocative lilt of the accompanying piano—but then she shimmies toward me, gathers the fabric of her long dress, and straddles my legs.
My heart thrums against my sternum. She makes me feel like I’m a teenager, being seduced by the only girl I’ve ever noticed.
I curl my fingers around her neck, careful not to upset her wig, and sweep my thumb over her battering pulse point while my other hand travels up her thigh. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”
She hooks her arms around my shoulders, pressing her chest to mine and grinding her pussy ever so slightly against my hard dick. “You’ve got a thing for redheads, huh?”
“I’ve got a thing for you, Nightmare. Silver, red, brown, neon green—doesn’t matter.”
Even with the mask on, an expression of irritation plainly veils her face. I’m not sure what to make of it.
She rocks her hips, gauging my reaction and smiling victoriously when a groan slips out of me. “You owe me an orgasm, a mind-blowing one. But you also owe me the truth.”
This woman is trouble. She’s far too aware of the power she holds over me. That needs to be rectified.
“That’s why you didn’t answer my question this morning. I knew it was only a matter of time before you requested the orgasm.” I waggle my brows, which has hers furrowing as my hand wanders from her thigh, beneath her dress, to find her plump ass exposed beyond her thong. “You can have both. You come for me here, in this booth, and I’ll answer your questions.”
Her mouth pops open, but she’s more amused than appalled. “You’re going to fuck me in the cabaret club, make me forget this god-awful day with jazz music, your pierced cock, and the danger of getting caught lurking in the shadows?”
My dick jerks in my pants. She’s not opposed to that scenario. In another circumstance, maybe I’d jump on it, but the ease of that would never fully satisfy Tessa. She craves the challenge. And I yearn to make her work for it.
“Something like that, but no fucking. Yet.” Gliding my finger from her ass to the thin strip of silk covering her pussy, I tease her through the wet material, reveling in how her body is already responding to me. “You’ll get to come. You’ll loosen up. You’ll forgive me and get your answers.” My lips brush hers, my tongue peeking out with a taunt for her to chase me, but as she does, I draw back to finish my demand. “And then you’ll spend the night in the penthouse with me.”
She straightens with a sharp intake of air. “Mercy said you never take guests up there.”
A smirk that will no doubt annoy her plays on my lips. “You been asking my sister-in-law about me, baby girl?”
“No.” She bucks her hips forward, successfully disarming me with a brutal dry hump. “We discussed how it was working to raise Remy in the penthouse, and she told menone of youtake women back there.”
“That’s true,” I admit, aware that anyone else would be pleased with that answer, but Tessa appears enraged.
“Then …”
She might not want me in her space, but I need her mark on mine. I want my sheets to smell like the sea and my pillow to be decorated with silver strands. Because I’ve officially gone mad over this girl. But I don’t fucking care. Sanity is overrated. With her in my arms like this, it feels right. I can’t confess that though.
Time to play dirty.
Bypassing that sopping strip of silk, I plunge two fingers inside her from behind, my thumb applying pressure to her other hole. Her head falls back, her spine arching, forcing her tits to smash into me with a plea. Who am I to deny? Cradling one in my hand, I knead it while sprinkling kisses down the column of her throat and eventually biting her pebbled nipple through her dress. She’s pierced. I assumed she would be, but experiencing it is even more riveting than what I imagined.
“You’re perfect and so fucking wet, Tess. All it took was picturing my cock inside you in front of a room full of people.”
She purrs before she snaps upright to lock her eyes with mine. The shadows from the stage lights and the table lamp capering on her face tell a salacious tale, but she’s speechless or awaiting my explanation about the penthouse demand.
I kiss her jaw, drawing out more moans from her. “I’m overdue on those mind-blowing orgasms, so I intend to spend the next eighteen or nineteen hours showering you with them.”
She swallows, her throat working overtime on the simple act, her mind obviously hazy. “That’s not happening.”
“You don’t want to come?” I ask as my fingers thrust more vigorously, and she moves in a rhythm that will help her reach her peak.
“I’m not sleeping over … in the penthouse … as your guest.” She bites her lip, her lashes fluttering, body trembling. “It’s too much.”
“It’s private,” I argue, continuing my cadence and pushing on her lower back to add friction to her clit, giving her nearly everything she craves.Nearly.“No employees will spot us. My room is upstairs, so my family won’t be an issue. I’ll play music, and you can scream until you lose your voice.”
“Maddox, I …” The tone of her delivery is gravel and unquenched thirst.
I have just the thing.
