“In about fifteen,” I said. My throat was dry. “Why?”
“Because I don’t like waiting.”
Her gaze pinned me. She didn’t mean drinks. My pulse hammered.
By the time the last customer stumbled out, I’d locked the door and dimmed the house lights. The club was empty but the air was thick as if the walls themselves were waiting.
She stood, walked behind the bar where only staff was supposed to go and pressed me back against the counter. The smell of her arousal, perfume, and danger filled my lungs.
“You still think you can handle me?” she murmured closely as her lips brushed mine.
“I know I can,” I confessed, voice hoarse. “The real question is, do you want to be handled?”
Her hand slid down my breasts leaving my nipples taut and aching. Then over my waist until her palm rested againstthe bulge straining between my thighs. She squeezed, slow and deliberate, eyes never leaving mine.
“Mm,” she purred as a smirk formed on her gorgeous face. “Exactly what I thought.”
Then she kissed me.
Not sweet. Not testing. This was deep and consuming. Her tongue sliding against mine like she’d been starving for this too. I groaned into her mouth before grabbing her hips and pulling her close. She tasted like tequila but better. Because she had me on her tongue.
Her thigh slipped between mine, pressing up against the ache I couldn’t hide. My hips jerked forward before I could stop them, grinding shamelessly against her.
“You’re trembling,” she whispered against my lips.
“I haven’t wanted anyone like this in years,” I admitted, breathless.
She smiled, wicked and sure. “Then let me remind you what yearning feels like.”
Her fingers traced higher between my thighs—deliberate and slow— until I thought I’d shatter right there against the bar.
I didn’t care who knew as we made out like teenagers in the dark club, except the glow of a single red light above the stage. The smell of expensive liquor, sweat, and sex, and her body pressed against mine made it feel like the whole world had collapsed down to this moment.
Soleil was a fitting name for the radiant beauty with her tongue down my throat and hand stroking my dick. She was biting at my bottom lip, pulling a moan from my throat before I could stop it. My hands slid over her waist, the glitter of her costume scratching against my palms as I dragged her closer. She was warm, soft, and alive in my hands, making my chest ache in a way it hadn’t in years.
She broke the kiss long enough to whisper, “I want to taste you.”
My knees almost buckled. “Here? Now?”
Her smile was wicked. “Why wait?”
Before I could argue, her hands roamed down my body, over my breasts, squeezing until I gasped, down the dip of my waist, moving to cup the roundness of my ass with a firm, claiming grip.
“God, you’re so fucking beautiful. Literally temptation in the flesh,” she groaned as she kissed down my throat letting her teeth graze my skin.
I grabbed her hair and held her there as she licked and sucked at my collarbone. Leaving a trail of heat in her wake. My dick throbbed between us—straining and begging. She dropped to her knees. Her eyes burning with desire as she looked up at me. She hooked her fingers in my waistband.
“Soleil—” I tried to warn her, to give her a chance to back out.
But she cut me off with a smirk. “I told you, I know what’s between your thighs. I want what’s between your thighs, so give me what’s between them. I can handle every inch.”
She pulled me free in one smooth motion, and the cool air hit my length before the heat of her mouth swallowed me whole.
“Fuck!” I moaned, clutching the bar so hard my knuckles ached.
Her lips were velvet. Her tongue ruthless as she worked me with a grace that made no sense. Of course, a ballerina would know how to use every muscle with precision. She sucked me down slowly and deeply. Her eyes remained locked on mine daring me to look away. I couldn’t. I was entranced.
Every stroke made my thighs tremble, my breath ragged. She moaned around me. The vibration sending shocks through my core. I bucked forward helplessly, lost in the wet heat of her mouth.
