Page 41 of King of Clubs

Shit, did I have undiagnosed agoraphilia?

Shockingly, I answered, “I d-don’t think so.”

“Put your hands on the glass,” he commanded, his words oozing power and I very nearly purred. Apparently my fetish involved being dominated by cryptic nightclub owners with tattooed forearms. Desire pooled at the anticipation of what he was going to do next and I was already feeling wet between my legs. Being so blatantly aroused was another new novelty for me, something else I discovered as a result of the man behind me.

His hands moving beneath my shirt sent goosebumps across my skin and I closed my eyes, focusing on the warmth that was spreading through me. I wanted him. Wanted this.

The thought of how we must look, me bent forward at the hips, hands on the glass, while he commanded my body only spurred my acquiescence. I was a needy slut for this man.

“Spread your legs.” At his instruction, my eyes widened and I glanced over my shoulder. I knew the uncertainty would be written all over my face and his eyes softened. His hands never stopped as they moved across my stomach and up to my throat, squeezing gently before coming down to touch my nipples.

“I’m going to make you cum,” he stated plainly. “I’m going to make you forget anyone other than me and I’m going to do it while you are leaning against this window looking fucking gorgeous. Because having you stand here and let me do that is probably the sexiest thing I've ever imagined.” His words were like melted butter, coursing through me and leaving only arousal in their wake.

“Tell me to stop at any time and I will. I only want to make you feel good.”

God, I wanted that too. So much.

“I won’t hurt you, Marlee,” he added and I believed him. There was no hidden malice in his words, no heed or selfish tone. Nodding, I widened my stance pressing my hips back, and a sound of pleasure hummed through him.

“So fucking compliant,” he complimented and I wanted to sit up straight like an A+ student. Submission and praise kinks both being added to my next sleuthing session.

His touch was warm as he softly grazed my leg, his fingers toying with the hem of my skirt before climbing higher. Pressing his entire body into me and touching the side of my panties, I hissed out a breath.

I was so turned on, desperate for him to touch my most sensitive part.

He stroked my inner thigh, before grazing the pads of his fingers across my core, tracing a slow line down my slit.

The unexpected spark of pleasure from being touched in this way sent fireworks through my chest and with an entire club of people so close I very nearly growled.

“Fuck,” he breathed as his fingers slid underneath my panties, his skin touching my darkest parts as my blood pooled under his touch.

His voice held an intensity that I hadn’t heard before providing me with the last boost of confidence I needed. He tugged at my black g-string, moving both the lace and his lips down my body.

He was in complete control and it was disconcertingly freeing.

This control was sexy. It came with need. A need to feel his strength wrapped around me. The idea that I could be a passenger while he steered me wherever he wanted was lasciviously hot and I arched into him further. His hands were back on my skin and it sizzled like water thrown onto hot coals, with one hand rubbing my nipple and the other on my swollen core.

His fingers roamed, exploring and tracing, his chest rising and falling rapidly against my back.

I was ravenous. With the packed club below completely unaware of the naughty things we were doing up here, I let myself go.

He pressed a finger inside me and I moaned loudly. It had never been like this before. Not even in my wildest dreams could I have imagined the way his touch would feel against me.

On impulse, I flattened my palms against the glass, giving him greater access and he took advantage, gliding his finger out and around my clit before pressing it back inside me.

My breath left me in a hot gush as he pushed in and out of me. He was rock hard against my lower back and I wanted to reach around and stroke him but I was lost to the ungodly crackles of pleasure shooting across my skin. There was no room for apprehension as he added a second finger stretching me perfectly.

“Oh my god,” I panted wantonly.

“You are so fucking tight,” his gravelly words were strained and as he began thrusting in and out of me faster I lost focus on everything other than him. The happenings on the floor below – forgotten. Any worries about what the hell I was doing – gone.

Because I was a prisoner to the way he made my pulse race under his touch. His smell was everywhere. His fingers shamelessly rubbed circles around my nipple as he stretched me wider with yet another finger. There was a small burn as I adjusted to him inside me, but the tingle of every nerve awakening as he filled me encompassed any small amount of pain.

I was pressing my back against him, needing more of him on and around me, but I couldn’t stay still. When his palm began intentionally hitting my clit as he pumped his hand into me, I felt the orgasm building in my stomach. His mouth was on my neck, his breathing mixed with my own as we gasped fighting for the air we both shared.

I could feel it pressing forward. The ride of pleasure deep in my core snaking its way through my body as my mind was lost to anything other than the dexterity of his touch.

“Fuck, you should feel how hard you make me, my hand gripping your throat while my fingers are in your cunt,” his voice husky with lust as his other hand moved from my chest to collar me.

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