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“A little…what?”
“Distraction. Excitement. My husband—”
“He knows you’re here?”
“No,” I burst, shaking my head. “He wouldn’t approve of me coming here.”
Neither of us speaks for a moment, then Reece says, “Excitement… You mean a dance? Or more?”
“A dance would be nice.”
“I can go get—”
“Oh.”
He frowns. “What?”
“I was just… I mean, you’re here. I thought… You know, because you said you work here.”
“You wantmeto dance for you?”
For an answer, I bite my top teeth into my bottom lip.
“I’m not a dancer.”
“I’m sorry. I’ve made a mess of everything. I think it’s best if I leave.”
I begin to gather my clutch only to freeze at Reece’s demanding voice, rough like cheap wool, telling me, “Sit back.”
Okay, so he does have some balls.
Now I want to see how big they are and if he has the foggiest idea how to use them.
My head touches the backrest just as “Holy Water” by Zayde Wølf comes on.
Reece curses and shifts on his feet.
“Please,” I plead, exactly like I did in my house, except I keep my lips parted after the word passes between them.
Slowly, he removes his jacket and drops it on the table. Next, he undoes the remaining buttons on his shirt, untucking it and sliding the sleeves off one sculpted arm at a time before adding it to the rest of his outfit.
A few dark tattoos break up the otherwise pristine canvas that is Reece’s trim, yet muscular body. His lats stick out enough for me to appreciate them without even seeing his back. Abs that look carved from stone lead the way to a sexy Adonis belt that makes a very prominent V disappearing below his waistband. I contemplate making him lose the pants right now just so I can find out where it leads, but decide not to…yet, because we will get there.
Sinking down to a knee, he wraps an arm under one of mine, and drags me forward until my ass cheeks kiss the edge of the loveseat. He hikes my knee up his bare shoulder, causing the slit in my dress to gape wide open, then runs his nose up my thigh, the tip cold against my skin.
I suck in a breath and lift my chest in the air, my nipples tightening to hard points. The movement automatically has my leg drawing Reece’s body closer, so when he drags his nose up my stomach, over my breasts to my chin, his bottom half matches up perfectly with mine. I spread my thighs wider, allowing his semi-hard length to settle against my tingling pussy. I’m so desperate, the crotch of my bodysuit is already smeared with my pussy’s cream.
Other than the floor-length train, there’s not much to my dress. It’s a backless, lacy, halter-top bodysuit with a thin skirt attached to the waist, so each time Reece rolls his body along mine, making sure to thrust into me on every drawn-out wave, sensation spreads through my body like a wildfire consuming a field of sagebrush.
Reece, however… Either his cock isn’t that big or he isn’t enjoying this—enjoying me—at all because he’s still not fully erect.
I’ve never been on the receiving end of this before. I was always the one giving the lap dances, and they never turned me on. Even if the client was attractive, or kind, or generous, I still hated my job, hated my life.
Is that how Reece feels? Does he hate this moment as much as I used to?
At least I was competent in my tasks. This lap dance is just as half-cocked as his work the other night.
I’m going to have to hurry this along. I’ve already been here longer than I planned to be.
