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Fiona’s mouth tastes as sweet as I fucking remember. I leave her hips alone, moving my hand to tangle in her hair. She slides her hands from my shoulders to my neck, gripping on either side as she grinds down on me.
I’m not sure how long the kiss lasts, but I’m in fucking pain. Leaving her hair, my hand slides down her body until it’s cupping her crotch, stroking her pussy through her soaking wet lacy panties.
The wetness has a groan tearing from my lips, even as I keep devouring her mouth. She stiffens initially, but I continue softly stroking until Fiona relaxes, moving the scrap of lace aside, sliding my fingers through her wet folds until they brush her clit. She bucks her hips toward me, a low moan escaping her lips. I’m so close. I have been dreaming about feeling this pussy for months. So. Close.
I find her entrance, slowly sliding one finger inside her. One is all I fucking manage because, Jesusfuck, she’s so tight. Her pussy muscles grip at my finger, and I have to work it in.
Fiona breaks the kiss, her forehead pressing against my shoulder as she mewls and rocks her hips. Fiona whimpers when I flex my finger, lifting her head and kissing me again.
Jesus fuck. It’s the first time she’s ever initiated kissing me. I fucking love it. I’m so busy eating at her mouth again that I don’t notice when she moves off my hand, grinding down on my dick again. This time, I break the kiss.
“I need yer taste on my mouth,leannán,” I murmur against her lips. “I need to know if ye taste as sweet as ye kiss.”
Fiona’s breath catches against my mouth, and she nods, making another small whimpering sound. Christ.Yes. That’s a yes. I move quickly, tipping her onto the bench seat, spreading her legs, and shifting between her open thighs.
Jesus fuck, it’s a beautiful sight to have her spread before me, her eyes hooded, her lips parted, her blue eyes locked on mine. My dreams were never this perfect.
“Ye’re so fecking beautiful,leannán.”
She gasps as I slide off her panties, moving my face between her legs. Fiona’s fingers tangle through my hair as my fingers part her folds, my tongue finding her clit.
I suck it into my mouth, lashing it with my tongue. Fiona thrusts her hips up as her hands tug me closer. So sweet. I eat at her until she shatters, rolling her hips and riding my face.
She’s relaxed and pliable beneath my lips until my fingers brush against her opening again. I could get another orgasm out of her and loosen her up. Maybe I’ll even get two fingers into her this time.
She sits up quickly before I can suck her clit into my mouth again, sliding her pussy away from me. No. I’m not done with it. I reach for her, stopped by Fiona’s foot.
She places a heeled foot on my chest and pushes me back until I sit on my ankles, staring at me haughtily, arching a brow.
“Well, do I taste as sweet as I kiss?”
Fucking sweeter. I hold her gaze for a moment, nodding solemnly.
“That ye do, lass.”
She nods stiffly, glancing around the small room. Something flashes across her face, and she leans over, snagging her panties and pulling them back on. What? No. We’re not done yet.
“You know,” she says conversationally, standing up, checking her tits and pussy are covered, and raking her fingers through her hair, “it’s no wonder that you don’t want me giving lap dances if that’s what you think happens every time someone comes into one of these rooms.”
Yeah. There’s no way she’s coming into one of these rooms ever again. Unless I’m with her. I want to fuck her in here. I reach for her, but she’s gone, wrenching the door open and striding out as I gawk after her.
It takes a moment for my brain to process what just happened. Christ. Shoving off my knees, I hurry after her, ignoring the staff and patrons in the VIP bar. They can fucking guess what happened in there for all I care. It will mean they will back the fuck off even more.
I reach Fiona as she strides through the “Staff Only” door, moving back to the stripper’s dressing room. My fingers close around her upper arm, the door swinging shut behind us, blocking us from the view of the private bar and its occupants. We are alone in the hallway, and Fiona throws me a cool look.
“I’ll expect payment for the dance,” she says stiffly, trying to wrench her arm away from me.
What? Hope bubbles in my chest as suddenly, everything falls into place. Her standoffishness, her first blow job, her squirming away from my finger. No. It’s not fucking possible. Is it?
Grabbing her other arm, I shove Fiona to the wall, pressing my body against hers, pinning her in position with my hips, my arms boxing her in as she glares up at me.
“Are ye a virgin, lass?”
She’s silent, but a flash behind her eyes confirms my theory. Jesus fuck.
“A virgin stripper,” I breathe, my lips twisting into a smirk at the irony. And she’s all mine.
Fiona’s face twists into a sneer. “It wouldn’t be fair to call me a virgin. I’ve been fucked over so many times, I’m practically a whore.”
