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“Take that to Fiona’s dressing table,” I snap, my eyes never leaving Fiona’s. Her eyes are wide and wary. As they fucking should be. She’s pushed and pushed me, and now I’m fucking done.
Tightening my grip on her arm, I drag her to the small, private lap dance rooms, shoving her inside. Following her, I kick the door shut with my foot, turning back to her.
“Ye want to lap dance,leannán?” I ask her, my voice dangerously low and smooth. “Then dance.”
I drop onto the bench seat, turning my eyes to her where she’s standing, arms akimbo, glaring at me.
“I’m not your sweetheart,” she snaps, as usual, but she’s eyeing me carefully.
Finally, Fiona shrugs, the look in her eyes changing, softening, turning sultry as she pouts slightly and smiles seductively at me. Biting down on her lower lip, Fiona starts the music.
She’s not even started, and I’m fucking rock hard, fighting the urge to drag her into my lap and fuck her senseless. Once the music begins, Fiona lifts her hands and brushes her glorious blonde hair over her shoulders.
Letting it trail through her fingers, Fiona moves her hands down her throat, over her scantily clad tits, arching her back as she moves toward me. She stops about two feet from my knees and swirls her hips, grinding and undulating in a figure-eight motion, her eyes hooded but burning into mine.
My fingers itch to run through her hair. Fiona’s tongue darts out, licking her lips, and I swallow roughly. Jesus fuck, she’s so damn sexy.
Fiona slowly turns away from me, still swaying her hips in circles, her back arched until she’s looking at me over her shoulder. Biting down on her lower lip and bending forward slightly, she thrusts her ass toward me.
Now my fingers are definitely itching. Straightening, Fiona moves closer to me, still facing away while looking over her shoulder until she’s standing between my splayed legs. Christ.Yes.
My mouth is dry, my fingers gripping the padded bench seat tightly as she lowers herself, using my knees for support. Her barely clad ass brushes against my jeans, my dick leaping beneath my zipper.
“Jaysus feck,” I mutter as she grinds down on me. I’m not going to fucking last. This is torture.
Fiona turns, swiveling her hips, standing up straight, leaning forward, placing her hands on the back of the bench seat, on either side of my head, thrusting her breasts at my face, her hips swaying again.
Jesus fuck. I bite back a groan as my nose brushes the skin between her breasts. I inhale deeply, reveling in the scent of roses and lemon that always seems to cling to her skin.
Her breasts move in time with her swaying hips, the lace of her bra scratching gently at my nose and mouth. I’m straddling the line between heaven and hell. Before I know what I’m doing, I open my mouth to suck on her nipple, exposed through the see-through lace of her bra cup.
I have wanted to have this breast in my mouth again for so long. The lace scratches my tongue as I manipulate it, rubbing it over her hardened nipple.
Fiona moans and thrusts her breast closer into my mouth, her fingers tangling in my hair. Her moan is perfect. So perfect. I need to hear it again.
Just as suddenly, she pulls away. Her eyes are still hooded, but now it’s less artificial and more natural, her breath coming out in sexy little pants. She’s playing with fire, and I’m not the only one riding the edge.
Swiveling her hips again, Fiona places her knees on the edge of the bench between my legs, pressing against my dick. It throbs with the need for her. My whole body is a taut wire, one tug away from snapping.
She leans in close, and her breath washes over my face. Almost here. Another inch and I’ll be tasting that sweet mouth. But she veers off to the side at the last moment, her lips sliding up the outer shell of my ear as my hands slide up her sides. I need to kiss her more than I’ve ever needed anything. More than oxygen.
Just as my hands are approaching her tits, she backs away again. This is fucking agony. Amazing, incredible, fuckingagony.
Holding onto the back of the bench seat again, Fiona kneels on my knees, pressing her tits to my face. I open my mouth, but she’s gone, her knees slipping between my legs. Fiona slides, pressing against me, to the floor until she’s kneeling between my legs, her hands resting on my knees, her face inches from my hard dick.
I grit my teeth to stop myself from thrusting into her face. I need her lips wrapped around my dick again. I need something,anything, to soothe my aching cock.
She rises, her ass coming up first as she flicks her head back, her chest thrusting out, the tips of her hair barely brushing my face. I have had many lap dances before. I have never experienced anything as sexy as this. Like fuck she’s ever doing this for another human being. No one will ever see this but me.
Turning again, Fiona brings her ass down on my crotch to grind softly, writhing and twisting to kneel on either side of my legs, undulating her body so her tits brush my face in time with the music, her crotch barely brushing against my dick. I can’t. I’m fucking done. They may call me the Irish Saint, but I’m no saint. Not when faced withthis.
My fingers dig into Fiona’s hips, holding her in position as my head tilts back. I thrust my hips up against her crotch. She makes a small whimpering noise in her throat as I grind my hard dick against her lacy panties, my lips sliding up her throat and along her jaw.
I can remember the sweet taste of her mouth ever since I first kissed her at Paddy’s wedding. Jesus fuck, that taste has haunted me formonths. Every time I kiss her, the longing to taste it again intensifies.
Using my hands on her hips to grind her crotch down on me as she squirms, rolling her hips, my lips capture Fiona’s, and she makes another small whimpering sound against my mouth, her hands coming down to grip my shoulders.
I trace my tongue along the seam of her lips. She gasps. Seizing the opportunity, I lick into her mouth, my tongue dancing with hers as I slide one hand up her body to grip her jaw, angling her head to deepen the kiss until I’m eating at her mouth.
