Slash stopped in front of the sex chair. “The woman he’s with dances here. Her name is Deb.”
“What about the other women?”
“I recognize a few,” Slash replied.
While the kink play was unexpected, she could roll with it. Her concern? She had no idea if the place was filled with cameras and mics.
As if Carrera could sense her discomfort, he eased onto the tantra chair, pulled her close. “Talk to me.”
“There could be cameras and mics everywhere. Karen could be selling videos on the dark web or blackmailing customers.”
“Thisisn’ta sex club. It’s a strip club. Sexshouldn’tbe happening.”
“I don’t want to get you in trouble,” she whispered.
“Youdocare.”
“No, I don’t, but you work for an organization with way more rules than mine. I don’t want to ruin your career. You’re good at your job.”
He slipped his hand behind her neck, pulled her down, and kissed her.
“Don’t get the wrong idea,” she murmured. “I don’t like you and don’t care about your career, but I don’t want to be the reason you lose it.”
“I’m flattered.”
Fighting against a smile, she shook her head at him. “I know people who could fix this situation for me in a matter of minutes.”
Staring into his eyes excited her and also grounded her.
Stop. You hate him.
“I know what will take your mind off everything.” He kissed her again, placed his hands on her ass and gently squeezed.
Her insides came alive. He stroked her ass, his large hands claiming her for his own. The passion in his kiss made her panties wet, while she turned her focus on the glorious man before her. She wanted him, wanted him naked, wanted him inside her, fucking her like no other man ever could.
If Karen was watching, she’d have no doubt Slash was doing her job. She’d never question the reason they were at the club. She’d never suspect a thing.
Breaking away, Slash started dancing to the rhythmic beat of the music. Slowly, she removed her dress revealing her nude body.
His reaction was instant and intense. A growl shot out of him, his eyes bled black, and he raked his hungry gaze over every inch of her. She raised her arms, continued her seductive sway, massaging her breasts and pinching her nipples. Then, she ran her hand over her pussy and touched herself.
“Fuck,” he bit out.
She sashayed over, placed her hands on his sculpted face, and kissed him. Not like a stranger he’d bought for free use, but like the girl who’d once loved him fiercely.
Then, she ended the kiss to unbutton his shirt. When finished, she helped him out of it. Seconds later, he too stood naked. He reached into his pants—discarded on the floor—and extracted a packet of condoms.
As he opened it, she knelt, took his hardness into her mouth, and teased him with her tongue, raked his shaft with her teeth. His moans grew gritty, his fingers sunk into her hair. She was turning wild with desire, like a lioness on the prowl for her next meal.
She licked and sucked, never increasing her speed. When his balls tightened, she pulled off and led him to the tantra chair.
After rolling on the condom, he straddled the black leather. She climbed on facing away, positioned him at her core, and slid down. One delicious, pleasure-filled slide until he was rooted deep, deep inside her.
And then, she laid back, resting her shoulders on his, and she started moving. His throaty groans filled her ears with sounds she’d once loved, sounds that reminded her how much pleasure she could bring him. He ran his hands over her breasts and abs, down to her pussy to tease her clit.
Groaning through the onslaught of pleasure, she wanted to slow, wanted to take her time, but she couldn’t. Desire pounded through her at a frenetic pace while she pumped his cock again and again.
Faster and faster.
