StripperwithSpice (26 page)
Authors: Afton Locke
Once he lies down on the backseat, I haul the car door
closed behind me and straddle him with my knees, facing his feet. Because the
seat isn’t long enough for him to stretch out, his knees are bent.
My heart thumps hard inside my sweater. What if I can’t do
this? What if I can never do this?
When I pull his cock from his pants, it hardens instantly in
my hands.
“Someone could walk by,” he points out. “I thought you
didn’t like exhibitionistic sex.”
Instead of answering, I pull his erection into my mouth,
savoring his unique flavor as my tongue circles the luscious head from tip to
flange. His staccato exhales quicken when I slide the back of my hand under his
sweater and skate it across his taut, bare belly while gripping the base of his
shaft, pulling that flesh tight as well.
With eagerness, I swallow the intermittent trickle of salty
pre-ejaculate, letting it pave the way for what I’m about to do.
“We definitely should have brought some jalapeños,” I say.
“I wonder how hot my mouth would feel on you then?”
He expels a breath. “Your mouth is already scorching.”
Wet heat saturates the panties I wear under my club
miniskirt. He traces his fingers across the damp crotch and slips one inside
me, fluttering it the way he knows drives me wild. For a moment, I moan and
give in to the sweet sensation before turning my focus back to the task at
hand.
Can I do this? Unshed tears burn my eyes. Carlos has gone
the distance for me. I need to do the same for him—for us. The passion and
emotional bond we shared is too special to let die. A love like this only comes
once in a lifetime and maybe not even then for some people.
His hardness slides into my mouth. Gripping his sloped
thighs, I take him deeper. As if he knows what I’m struggling with, he holds
perfectly still. His finger even freezes inside my cunt.
His head—large, hot and pulsing—presses the back of my
throat, kicking my heartbeat into overdrive. The sensation creates an image of
jumping off a high mountain and falling through space—a place where I could
lose myself forever.
I can’t do this!
But I need to—for Carlos—for us. Just as I did when I let
his cock slide deep into my buttocks, I make the decision to let him inside me.
My brain turns off the tension in every muscle in my body, one by one, until
momentum takes over.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
I take him a little deeper.
Deeper than he’s ever been before.
Yes, I’m doing this!
As if to coax
me, he slides his finger deeper into my cunt very, very slowly. In response I
let his cock slide farther inside my throat. My muscles contract and relax,
adjusting to his girth.
“God, Janice. I can’t believe this. I didn’t think it would
ever happen.”
Satisfied, I pull up, just as slowly as I went down. Then I
repeat it. The second time is much easier than the first. The third, even
easier than that. I lose count as Carlos’ finger pumps my pussy and his cock
fills my mouth, again and again.
“
Me gusta…
” he groans.
His short, fast breaths and the slippery sounds of our
juices fill the car. Desire consumes me with a conflagration that singes me to
the core. The passion we lost has returned tenfold.
Everything speeds up as if we’re a locomotive leaving the
station. Every piston pumping in perfect harmony until we’re hurtling down a
hill and can’t stop if we want to. I lose track of body parts and whose is
whose. We’ve become one giant, unstoppable machine.
Sweet abandon fills every cell in my body. In my heart I
know I’ll never struggle with this again. It’s as if I’ve learned to ride a
bike.
“I’m going to come.”
He barks the words out so sharp and fast I barely have time
to comprehend them before a hot, thick tide fills my mouth. The salty sweetness
flows across my tongue. I swallow and swallow, but there seems to be no end.
It’s as if he’s saved all his ejaculate for this moment.
Halfway through, my lower body clenches into a giant fist of
ecstasy. Between the swallows, I gasp, out of control as I buck and twitch
around Carlos’ still-thrusting finger. I give up control with a smile, letting
the sensations of pleasure wring me as if I’m a wet washcloth.
“Oh, Carlos. Finally.” Tears flow from my eyes
unchecked—tears of joy, strength and a profound vulnerability I’ve never felt
before. “I wanted to do this so much. I was afraid I never could.”
Dismounting, I kneel on the floorboards and gaze at the
adoration and appreciation on his face.
He brushes the tears on my cheeks and then grips my hands so
hard they ache. “Words…words can’t even describe that. You never stop amazing
me.”
“I trust you.” My voice is hoarse from emotion and what my
throat has just been through. “At least I want to try.”
More tears rain down my face, mixing with his taste on my
lips.
“
Querida
.
Querida
.” He pulls my head to his
chest and winds his fingers through my hair, clasping me tight. “That’s all we
need. That’s all we’ll ever need.”
October
A banner emblazoned with
Fernando’s II—Now Open!
undulates in the breeze outside the restaurant window.
My heart hammers with the realization that in one hour the
doors will open for the first time. Hopefully a big lunch crowd will arrive,
followed by an even bigger dinner crowd. The restaurant is decorated, the
kitchen is fully stocked and today’s food is prepped.
This will probably be the last quiet moment Carlos and I
will share for a while.
“I still can’t believe it,” I whisper.
His arm tightens around me. “Neither can I. It’s amazing
what a little hard work can do.”
Turning, I touch the face that has become so familiar to me
over the past year. “I’d never have achieved any of this if it weren’t for
you.”
“I think we’re good for each other,
querida
.”
His cell phone rings, interrupting the moment. I need to get
back to the kitchen anyway. He answers but holds my arm to keep me there.
“Next month?” he asks the caller. “I’ll have to check. Yeah,
I’ll let you know.”
Curiosity pricks my spine but nothing more. The old me would
wonder which girl is on the other end of the line, but we’re way past that now.
“Road trip,” he mentions as he puts his phone back in his
jacket pocket. “Lousy timing.”
He still strips and I go to many of his shows. Now that the
restaurant is open, though, I won’t have time. Until things get on a firm
financial footing here, he plans to keep working a reduced schedule at the
club. The rest of his time will be spent here. Because I live with him now, we
have fewer bills.
“I’m not going unless you’re okay with it,” he adds.
“Where is it?”
His face cringes. “The Caribbean.”
The familiar twinge lunges for my heart but I sidestep it.
“Go. I’ll be fine.”
“Are you sure?”
“I trust you now, remember?” My gaze locks with his and
travels to his snug jeans. “Or do I need to prove it to you again?”
He grips the small of my back, pushing me against his
erection. “Don’t tempt me. The men’s bathroom is open and waiting.”
A slow, steady flame burns between my thighs as I watch the
passion flicker in his dark eyes. Even though we made love this morning, I could
do it again and again for the rest of the day. All he has to do is look at me
and I want him—anywhere, anytime.
“I made sure the construction crew installed the towel racks
in there with heavy-duty bolts.”
“That’s good to know.” I laugh, pulling my pelvis away from
his so we won’t miss our grand opening.
His gaze grows serious. “We still need to take that vacation
we’ve always talked about.”
I look around at the restaurant. “Do you think we’ll ever
have time now?”
“We’ll have to make the time.” He hands me a bag that had
been sitting on the nearby chair with his jacket. “I got you something to
celebrate our big day.”
Reaching inside the tissue paper, I pull out a big, white
chef’s hat. “It’s perfect! Thank you.”
After kissing me, he puts it on my head and I admire it in
the faint reflection from the window.
He hands the bag back to me. “There’s something else in
there.”
“Something else? Darn. I should have gotten you something
too.”
What could it possibly be? I already have an apron and
everything I need to fulfill my dream of being a chef. Whatever it is must be
small because I don’t see anything but tissue paper.
When his serious gaze probes mine, I already know what’s in
the bag. A flush spreads across my body. Suddenly I’m back with him that day in
the mall, standing in the jewelry store looking at rings. I was so emotionally
messed up back then. He’d looked so hopeless.
He doesn’t look hopeless now. In his eyes I see an
eagle—stretching its wings and taking flight with confidence. My numb fingers
reach inside the bag, fumbling across cool sheets of tissue paper. At last they
close around a small, velvety box.
When I pull out the gray cube, my hands are shaking so hard
I almost drop it. He takes it out of my hands and opens it.
Oh God.
The urge to faint washes over me.
It…is…a…ring.
As if I doubted it, one of the overhead track lights
reflects on the diamond’s surface, glittering with fire. With a flourish of his
lithe hips, so natural it’s probably unconscious, he lowers himself to kneel
before me.
“Janice, I can’t think of anything fancy to say right now
except I love you and want to do that forever.” He swallows and a tremulous
smile lights his face, brighter than the diamond. “Will you be my wife?”
My breath stalls in my throat, which aches with emotion. “I
thought…I thought you wanted to wait.”
“I think we’ve done enough waiting. We’re ready.”
My subconscious nods for me.
He cocks his head. “Are you nodding yes?”
At that moment, someone knocks on the front door, which is
locked.
I glance toward the window. “Look, Carlos. It’s our first
customer!”
“Is it that late already?” With exasperation on his face, he
stands and closes the box.
“Yes.” I take the box out of his hand and open it again.
“Yes, it’s that late and, yes, I want to marry you.”
His hands shake as he pulls the ring out of the box and
slides it onto my equally trembling finger. He locks his arms around me before
I have a chance to admire it.
My man
, I think as my hand drifts across
his hair, face and shoulder. To think this had all begun with a simple
one-night stand. Oblivious to our observer, I kiss him, tasting the familiar
flavor of his mouth with new appreciation.
Together we walk toward the door.
“Shall we?” he asks after flipping the lock open.
With our hands on the handle, we open the door to our first
customer and our new life.
By day, Afton Locke is a logical programmer, but by night
she swims in the mystical world of dreams. Intrigued by all things unexplained,
like ghosts and karma, she delights in spinning dark, sensual stories that pull
readers below the surface of everyday (and sometimes boring) life to the depths
of forbidden fantasy.
What else would you expect from someone with her moon in the
12th house/Pisces and Neptune in the 8th house/Scorpio? She lives in the
mountains with her husband, dog and spooky black cat.
Unlock your darkest fantasies with Afton Locke.
Afton welcomes comments from readers. You can find her
website and email addresses on her
author
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at
www.ellorascave.com
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Afton
Locke
Entrance
to Ecstasy
anthology
Ellora’s Cave Publishing
Stripper with Spice
ISBN 9781419949050
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Stripper with Spice Copyright © 2014 Afton Locke
Edited by Briana St. James
Cover design and photography by Syneca
Additional cover photography by Guryanov Andrey/Shutterstock.com
Model: David
Electronic book publication January 2014
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