Page 17 of Wicked Dance
“Well, guess what?” he says.
“What?”
“I never saw her again, and this bed was never used.”
I laugh. “Poor forgotten bed.”
He reaches between us and unsnaps the top of my jeans. “Oh, no, not forgotten at all.”
My eyes go wide and I glance around. “Here?”
He jerks the zipper down. “Oh, yes. Right here.”
His mouth captures mine. I’m feeling a touch of panic. I mean, it’s a big space! And people will be arriving for the contract meeting! Directors. Producers. Hannah. Uggh. Hannah. And Bennett!
But then his hand slips into the open jeans and I forget all that. His mouth is hot on me, still tasting of pie, and I groan as he revisits all the knowledge he has of my body, his fingers deep inside me.
I gasp against his mouth. My hips rise to meet him. His thumb works my little nub, and my body can’t help but respond.
“I love this,” he whispers against me. “And I love you.”
He lifts his body and slides his hand out of me. Air hits my belly as he jerks my jeans down. “More naked or less?” he asks.
I glance around, my courage returning. The last girl on this bed bared herself in front of a studio audience.
“All the way,” I tell him.
I don’t have to say it twice. My jeans and panties are gone, my shoes flying. The red light disappears as the sweater flies over my face.
Jerry forgot to pack a bra, so that’s it. I’m as naked as that girl.
“Lie back on the bed,” Blitz says.
His face is intense as he looks at me. I obey, shifting back until I’m in the center, then I lie down.
“Oh, this is gonna make me lose it way faster than I want to,” Blitz says. “Spread those thighs for me.”
I brace myself up on my elbows and do as he asks, my legs sliding luxuriously over the cool silk bedspread until my ankles reach either side.
He lets out a long exhale and pulls his sweater over his head. He kicks off his shoes and unfastens his jeans. “I don’t know what I want to do first,” he says.
“Make it up as you go along,” I say. He’s outrageously hard, coming at me like a jungle cat, low and stealthy.
He crawls over my body, and I’m reminded of the dance he did with the girl, before she got naked. I hook a knee around his waist and slide around him. Now I’m straddling his back.
“Love it,” he growls, and he gets it. We’re dancing the way we sometimes do, naked, no music, all intensity and sex.
He kneels, partially sitting now, and reaches up to grasp my arms. With a sharp pull, he sends me falling toward the satin.
He leans down and licks my belly, his hair tickling my skin. Then he moves down, slipping his tongue between my thighs.
My back arches, and my body is seized by him. Everything is a swirl, the red lights, the satin, now rumpled in disarray. His mouth, his fingers, and I’m lost, spiraling up, my muscles tensing. He sucks hard and I just let go, over the top, my voice lost in the huge room, saying his name, Benjamin, Blitz, my love.
He brings me down carefully and moves his mouth to my belly, kissing my skin. He lets my breathing slow, inching forward until his erection presses against me.
“I’m going to take you so damn hard,” he says, his voice gravelly and low.
Then we hear it.
