SinfullyYours (2 page)

He gave her nipple a firm tug, and her eyes nearly rolled
back in her head. And then he was gone, stepping away from her, putting space
between them. He untangled the beads from his neck and put them around hers. “There,
I think you’ve earned those.”

Bailey had to laugh. He played her so well. Sizzling fervor
coursed through her veins and it took her three tries to get her bra fastened
correctly. She knew that he noticed, and that he was amused, but there was
nothing she could do about it. He had totally scattered her brains. Once she
had somewhat composed herself, she reached for last remaining set of beads
around his neck, a pearl necklace made of tiny white hearts. It gave her an
excellent excuse to fondle him again. He had the best chest. She couldn’t wait
to lick him. “These are really nice beads as well,” she said, twisting her
finger the strand. “I must have them.”

He shook his head, his handsome face the picture of feigned
regret. “I don’t know if I can part with those.”

“Oh no?” she asked, fully enjoying the flirtation. Her belly
fluttered as she wondered what he might ask for this time. “Why not?”

He placed his hand over hers, holding on to both her hand
and the beads at the same time. “I’m very fond of these beads.”

“I can understand that. They are nice beads.” She looked up
at him, touched the tip of her tongue to her top lip, and then deliberately
dropped her gaze to his mouth. “I would really, really like them though.”

“Hmm,” he said, and the low rumble from deep in his throat
vibrated through her, strumming all her right spots. “I might be able to part
with them.” He moved closer again, his chest just millimeters away from hers. The
heat of his body made her skin tingle. “For a price.”

She hadn’t expected anything else. “What do you have in
mind?”

“Well…” He ran the back of his hand down her arm and despite
the hot night air, she got chills. “I could be persuaded.” A snap of lust
flicked her pussy when he grazed the underside of her breast. “If you were
willing…” He dragged his index finger down the center of her body. “To offer
something…” The fingernail scraped over her lower belly, then moved lower,
following the path of her zipper. He held her gaze and flashed her a
devastating grin. “A bit more.”

All the breath left her lungs in one, harsh whoosh. Her
pussy pulsed beneath his finger. If she arched her back the slightest bit, his
hand would be between her thighs. People filtered by in her peripheral vision,
a neverending stream of bodies, but they were hazy, distant. There was only his
hand and the intoxicating weight of his touch.

He dragged his finger back up the length of her zipper,
drawing a lazy trail that curved up and over her hip. The caress circled her
bellybutton, tickling the delicate, sensitive skin, and she trembled. A whimper
escaped her lips, a soft cry that was almost a plea. He smiled at her everything
in his eyes asking if she really wanted all that he had to offer. “Of course,
if you’re not up to it…”

Bailey chuckled under her breath. There was no way she was
going to let that challenge go unanswered. But if he thought he was winning
that easily, he was quite mistaken. She ran her palm over the front pocket of
her jeans, her fingers dipping close to what he wanted. It was difficult not to
smirk with triumph when his gaze immediately latched onto her hand. “I don’t
think those beads are worth everything.”

He considered it for a moment and then shook his head. “Um,
no. I’m afraid it’s all or nothing.”

She looked around at the people, the mad revelry. Was she seriously
going to expose herself in the middle of Bourbon Street? Apparently she was. “Okay,”
she said. “But no touching. You can look and that’s it.”

His grin grew wider and he nodded. “Fine.”

She held his gaze for a moment longer, then dropped her eyes
down to look at her jeans. She unbuttoned the top button slowly, letting him
savor the moment. He braced his arms on either side of her again and leaned
over into her space. The scent of his cologne filled her head, making her
giddy. He looked down at her crotch and then met her eyes again. Bailey smiled
back. The sound of her zipper going down seemed very loud in their closed
little world of space. Bourbon Street was far away, there was only him and her,
and what was to come.

She peeled back the corner of her jeans, revealing her black
lace panties, the second part of her good-sex-mojo set. So far, the magic was
holding strong. She hooked her thumbs through the belt loops and pushed them
slowly down.

The air between them was thick and fully charged. She felt
rather than heard his breath catch and when she met his gaze, his eyes were
dark, hooded. His fingers ghosted down the curve of her stomach, close enough
to feel the heat, but not touching her at all. When he plucked the waistband of
her underwear between his thumb and forefinger, Bailey went completely liquid.
The heat in her pussy was so intense she was surprised her panties didn’t
spontaneously combust.

He leaned over a little farther, ready to take a peek, when
boos and jeers rippled through the crowd. People began to assemble in the
middle of the street, and she quickly zipped up her pants, crookedly buttoned
her shirt. Her new friend took her hand and guided her through the gathering
crowd. Everyone seemed to be looking toward Canal for some reason, and they
bobbed and weaved, trying to see what was happening.

He stood up on his toes, craning his neck, but quit after a
few moments with a shake of his head. “I can’t see anything.”

Still dazed from their encounter, her mind reeling, she was
not prepared for him to suddenly lift her off the ground. She let out an
undignified squeak as she rose, one she fiercely hoped he did not hear. He
bounced her higher and she grabbed his shoulder to keep from toppling over. His
muscles flexed as he shifted her weight, the hard sinew rippling under her
palm. Catcalls rolled through the crowd again, and what she found when she
looked up was not a welcome sight at all. Down toward the beginning of Bourbon
Street was a line of horseback policemen leading an army of street cleaners.
She sighed. The party was officially over.

“What’s going on?” he asked, tapping her lightly on the
butt.

Her lips puckered. “They’re shutting down Bourbon Street.”

He set her back down on the ground. “They do that?”

Bailey nodded. “They do on Mardi Gras night. It’s tradition.
We’re all supposed to stop sinning and start repenting on Ash Wednesday—you
know, at midnight.”

He looked down into her eyes. “I’m not done sinning yet.”

She smiled up at him. “Me neither.”

“Good,” he said, wrapping his arm around her waist. “Let’s
continue this in my hotel room.”

That sounded like a very good plan indeed. “Okay.”

They headed toward Canal, passing dozens of people, some
dressed, some not so much. People in costumes, people in masks, people in
shorts and melting body paint. And there were beads everywhere, hanging from
the people, the lampposts and balconies, sitting in the gutters and on the
sidewalks, resting in puddles of unknown substances.

A throaty female moan floated over the crowd, catching their
attention. They turned toward the sound and found a small group gathered in
front of a doorway right off Bourbon, surrounding a woman with her breasts
exposed, her skirt hiked up around her bellybutton. The man she was with had
her hands locked above her head and her legs were spread wide apart. People
were taking pictures, recording videos, generally gawking.

“Hot,” Bailey’s friend said, standing close behind her.

“Yeah,” she answered, unable to keep the breathlessness out
of in her voice. His cock pressed against her ass, an erotic pressure that made
her insides hum.

The man squeezed the woman’s breast and then ran his hand
down her torso. He grinned to his audience and then slid two fingers inside
her. The crowd sighed when she moaned. Her hips arched, welcoming the man’s
fingers, and she rocked in time with the rhythm he set.

“I want to touch you like that,” Bailey’s companion
whispered in her ear, his breath hot on her throat. His hand moved down, over
her thigh. “I bet you’re nice and tight and wet.”

She moaned with the other woman when his hand slipped
between her legs. He traced the seam of her jeans, and her hips bucked from the
jolt of pleasure.

The woman’s legs quivered, and Bailey knew by the look on
her face that she was about to come. The man fingered her harder, and she
writhed, wildly humping his hand. Bailey’s companion bit down on her earlobe
and gave her pussy a squeeze. White-hot lust assaulted her senses, and she
almost came right along with the other woman.

“I’m going to—” her friend began, but was cut off by the
blaring siren from approaching police brigade.

Bailey’s heart was thumping in her chest, she was aching,
needy, but this was not the time or the place for satisfaction. She tugged on
his hand, guiding him away. There was no need to get caught up in the
inevitable mess that would ensue once the cops saw what everyone was up to. He
laced his fingers through hers and took the lead, whisking her toward Canal
Street and his hotel room.

Bailey laughed as they crossed the threshold of the hotel.
Her companion held her hand tightly, navigating them through the crowded lobby
toward the elevator bank. She felt drunk, wonderfully lightheaded and very ready
to take on whatever else the night had to offer. He pressed the button for the
elevator, and she studied him as they waited, drinking in the strong line of
his jaw, the breadth of his shoulders, the long column of this throat—all the
many good places to lick.

He must have felt the intensity of her stare because he
turned to her with a lopsided smile that only made him more handsome. “What?”

She smiled back and shook her head. He was going to find out
everything she had been thinking soon enough. “What’s your name?” she asked
instead.

He raised one eyebrow. “Are you sure you want to go there?”

A valid question, but it still caused a sharp twinge of
disappointment in her heart. She had slept with enough nameless tourists over
the course of her bartending career to know the rules of a one-night stand.
Keep it simple, keep it casual, and above all else, never, even for even a
second, believe that it would ever be anything more than a one-night stand.
There was no excuse for foolish sentimentality. She shrugged one shoulder,
tying to play off her gaffe as coolly as possible. “It doesn’t matter. I’d just
like to be able to call you something other than, ‘Hey you’.”

He paused for a long moment and she prayed that she hadn’t
totally fucked up the night. But then he smiled and ran his fingers lightly
through her hair. “My name is Rick.”

A group of rowdy college kids joined them and they fell
silent, waiting side by side for the elevator. Part of her was thrilled that he
had told her his name, but another part, the shrewd, old, bitter part, noted
that he didn’t care to know hers. Regardless of whatever he made her feel or
however good he might be in bed, she was nowhere near desperate or stupid
enough to offer her name without him asking for it. That was not the way it
worked. She knew what the night was about. She had no illusions.

He gave her hand a tug when the elevator arrived, leading
her inside, and then off again when they stopped at his floor. Her pulse did a
little tango when he slid the keycard into the lock. He held open the door for
her, and she entered the room. It was pretty standard—beige walls, anonymous
art, desk, dresser, bed.

The sound of the door snapping shut behind then resonated
deep in her pussy. She turned to him, and in two long strides he had her in his
arms. In the next instant, his mouth was on hers, a tender kiss that quickly
escalated into something explosive. She opened for him, her jaw relaxing as he
delved into her mouth.

They kissed and kissed until he pulled back with a sigh,
cupped her face in his hand, and looked into her eyes. He ran his thumb over
her cheek, his gaze deep and considering. “You are very beautiful,” he said,
his voice soft.

The awe in his tone undid something inside her, melted some
of the hard nugget of bitterness that dwelled in her heart. She wanted to
collapse in his arms, swoon like a lady of old, fall into his strong embrace,
be his woman. And that was a bad, bad thought. She was never going to learn his
last name.

He held her gaze, the intensity of their connection
multiplying with each passing second. She needed to put an end to this. This
night was supposed to be about fun. Sex. Sinning. All these “feelings” were
getting in the way of the goal. She dropped her gaze and curled her finger
around the last strand of beads around his neck. “I believe these belong to me
now.”

He laughed, and the remaining tension dispersed,
transforming back into a more lighthearted mood. “You didn’t actually earn
them. As I recall, we were interrupted.”

Bailey feigned outrage. “I hardly think that was my fault.”

Rick shrugged. “Be that as it may, the terms of the
agreement were not fulfilled.” He took the beads from her grasp and smoothed
them back down on his chest. “Of course, if you still want them, we could
always strike up a new bargain.”

She took a step back and put on a serious face. “I’m
listening.”

“Well, as I said, I require something a bit more for these
beads, an extra offering.” He leered at her and though it was comical, it also
fueled the flame simmering in her core. “I need to see something very, very
good. Something that will leave a lasting impression.”

She folded her arms under her breasts. “You aren’t impressed
already?”

He held up his hands in a placating gesture. “No, I’m
impressed. I just want to see what else you’ve got.”

“Uh-huh,” she said, giving him a hard time. “So, what are
you proposing?”

He grinned wickedly. “Why don’t you start taking things off,
and I’ll let you know when you can stop.”

“You’re going to tell me when I can stop?” She couldn’t
believe how cocky he was. And how much she liked it.

“Yeah,” he said and sat down on the bed. He waved his hand. “Begin.”

She chuckled, but a sudden nervousness made her hesitate. It
was a foreign sensation, something she did not like at all. Even worse, she
didn’t know why she was being weird—she fully intended to sleep with him after
all. He was going to have to see her naked for that to properly occur. But he
was watching her so intently. It was…intimidating.

“Oh, no,” he said, pulling her toward him, and then positioning
her to stand between his legs. “Don’t be shy now.” His hands slid up the back
of her thighs to cup her ass. “Show me something good.”

She placed her hands on his shoulders and looked down into
his eyes. He was so incredibly handsome, and he just exuded strength and
confidence. He made her feel safe, desired, a little bit wild. This night would
have been very different if someone else had found her on Bourbon Street. She
caressed his shoulders and then ran her hands along his biceps. The muscles were
just made for fondling, every ridge, every dip was solid and strong. She ran
her fingertips lightly down the back of his arms and his grip tightened on her
ass, pulling her closer.

She leaned in for a kiss and when he lifted his chin, she
danced away, twirling out of his arms. He wanted something good? She had that. The
beads had to come off first, and she lifted them over her head, placed them on
the nightstand. He watched, rapt, as she unbuttoned her shirt, slowly revealing
her collarbones, her bra, her ribs, stomach, bellybutton. It fell to the floor
behind her without a sound. His lips parted when she unhooked the bra clasp,
his eyes glassy as her breasts spilled out of the lacy undergarment. She
twirled her bra around her finger and then tossed it at him in a faux-sexy,
mock stripper move.

Rick laughed as he caught it, fingering the cup. “Do I get
to keep this?”

She shook her head. “Only if you’re planning on wearing it.”

He held it up to his chest. “I don’t think it’s my color.”
He placed it carefully aside on the bed. “Come here a second.”

There was something mischievous in his eyes and Bailey smiled.
She stepped back between his thighs, and his arms encircled her waist, drawing her
closer. His hands moved up the curve of her body to cup her breasts. His skin
was rough, the texture at odds with his gentle caress, making her nipples
insanely hard. He took his time, thoroughly feeling her up, enjoying making her
writhe.

She closed her eyes, letting the sensations course through
her. Her pussy thrummed with a low ache that radiated through her belly. His
hot, wet tongue laved and teased her nipple before he took into his mouth,
making her moan deep back in her throat. Her fingers dug into his back as he
suckled her, her body on fire for him.

He gave her one last lick, pressed a kiss between her
breasts and leaned back again. He tugged on the waistband of her jeans. “Take
them off.”

Electric fire raced from the top of her head, down to her
toes. Slowly, ever so slowly, she unzipped her jeans. She pushed them down over
her hips, her thighs, her calves, watching him as he watched her, and then she let
them fall to the floor. She kicked them aside, removed her shoes. His erection
strained against the zipper of his jeans, a huge bulge that she wanted to free.
Everything in her ached to be filled, and her eyes fixed on his cock.

He noticed the direction of her stare and smiled. “I can’t
wait to be inside you,” he said, holding her gaze while he stroked himself over
his jeans. “Get naked for me.”

Her throat went dry even as she got wetter. If he kept this
up, she might end up suffering from some extreme dehydration. The thought
tickled her, and she smirked as she hooked her thumb under the waistband of her
panties. She pulled them away from her body, stretching out the fabric as far
as it would go before slowly lowering them down her legs.

He stood up and took her into his arms. She gasped as he
plunged his tongue deep into her mouth, her senses overwhelmed by the sudden
onslaught. His hands roamed over her, groping, squeezing, stroking. His touch
was rough, urgent and the friction of his clothing against her naked, sensitive
skin, heightened her fevered libido. She clung to him, clutching at his
T-shirt, an infuriating barrier between her and the warm expanse of his chest.
When he parted from her, she was panting, too dazed by the force of his kiss to
do anything more than stand there while he took the beads off his neck and
placed them the around hers.

Bailey laughed even as she tried to catch her breath. “Oh,
have I earned these now?”

“Yeah,” he said, stroking her hair. “You did.”

She ran her hands down his back to grab the best ass she had
ever had the pleasure of squeezing. His cock hot and thick against her pelvis.
He needed to be naked, fucking her—
now
. She slipped her hands under his
shirt and raked her fingernails over the small of his back. “You should be
naked too.”

He kneaded her breast, toying and teasing her nipple, each
pluck escalating the intensity of the heat roaring through her veins. His lips
ghosted over her flushed skin as he nuzzled her throat. All the fine hairs on
her body stood up as chills raced over her. “You want me naked?”

“I do,” she said, tugging on his shirt.

He helped her lift it off over his head. “Are you going to
have your way with me?”

“Absolutely.” She finally got to see the dog tags she had
only felt before. They looked good in the center of his broad chest, adding a
distinct appeal. He was a slab of muscle, his abs perfectly defined. Dark hair
dusted his pecs, traveled down the center of his stomach, disappeared down into
his jeans. He even had that line of muscle right at his hips, the one
separating his torso from his legs. She didn’t know what it was called, but it
made her wild. It was her favorite place to lick a man. She ran her hands over
him, loving the feel of his skin, the muscles flexing under her touch.

He let her explore for a bit, but then took her hand and
brought it to his crotch. The bulk of him overfilled her palm and her pussy
thumped, demanding him now. He moaned against her neck when she squeezed and
bit down on her shoulder. “Get me naked.”

She was already fumbling with the button fly on his pants
before he could get all the words out. The first button revealed that he was
not wearing any underwear, the second uncovered a thatch of dark hair. She
raked her fingers through the wiry patch, the hair both soft and coarse against
her palm. The third button freed him, and the fourth let her slide his pants
down and out of the way.

She stroked him, his cock long and hard, the skin silky and
warm. His arms tightened around her when she pumped him, his fingers digging
into her ass. There was strength in his grip, restrained power. All those
muscles were not just for show. He could easily overpower her if he wanted to,
and while that thought should have been scary, it was actually extremely
thrilling.

She ran her thumb of the head of his cock and he breathed in
sharply. His hands came up, cupping her face. Raw desire darkened his eyes. He
kissed her hard, his tongue going deep, possessing her. She answered the kiss
with unrestrained passion, meeting his tongue stroke for stroke.

With a guttural moan, he broke away from her. He put his
hands on her shoulders, squeezed. “Suck me.”

His fingers twined in her hair as she went to her knees
before him. She looked up at him, meeting his gaze, and ran her tongue along
the entire length of his cock. His taste exploded on her lips, making her mouth
water. Feral satisfaction filled her chest when his eyes went glassy and his
grip tightened on her hair. She licked his balls, the musky scent of him
filling her head. His moans inspired her and she circled the base of his cock
with her tongue, then slowly, carefully, with meticulously loving detail,
licked her way to his swollen head.

“Good girl,” he murmured when she took him into her mouth. “Just
like that.”

He began to rock his hips, gently encouraging her while she
sucked him. His cock glided over her tongue, pushing deep into her throat. She
took as much of him as she could into her mouth, stroking him in time with the
rhythm he set.

He pushed her away with a strangled groan, taking his cock
out of her mouth all too soon. She reached for him, but he gripped her chin and
forced her to look up at him. “When I come, it’s going to be in your pussy.”

Bailey’s insides clenched, wanting him with the fiercest
desire she had ever known.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” He ran this thumb over her
bottom lip and grinned when she licked the pad. “Damn, you’re so fucking hot.”
He tugged on the beads around her neck and tilted his head to the right. “Get
on the bed.”

She held his gaze and rose her to feet, her assent slow and
purposely seductive. She brushed her fingertips over his chest as she circled
around him to the bed, adding an extra little sway to her hips because she knew
he was watching. The bed creaked softly under her weight and she crawled across
the king-sized expanse to lie down in the middle.