Page 122 of The First Taste
Her brow wrinkles. “Too much talking. Not enough dancing. Don’t you agree?”
I clench my jaw. I think she just found a polite way to tell me to shut up. Then again, she’s pretty much dry humping me. I try to relax, try to focus on the softness of her skin, the gentle hint of rose that wafts off her neck, the warmth of her pressed against me.
It’s almost like intimacy and just as addictive.
She looks me in the eye; I can see from this close that her eyes are tawny brown with green flecks. She presses her hands against my chest, biting her lip, and leans close to my ear.
I’m not sure what I’m expecting, but she just lets out the breathiest sound, the tiniest of moans. She grinds her body against mine as she grabs my hands and brings them to her waist.
“Fuck,” I grit out. I’m surprised at how this girl has managed to turn me out. I lift a hand and plunge it into her hair, wishing more than anything I could pull her in for a kiss.
Of course, I can think of other ways that she could please me… My eyes are glued on her mouth, imagining her on her knees, opening those lips, sucking my fucking cock.
My cock is currently pressed between our bodies; each time she grinds on it or rolls her body, I come a little bit closer to doing something very, very wicked to my little ballerina.
“Tell me something,” I whisper. “Do you know how much this turns me on?”
She blushes and grins. She undulates her body, rolling it against me, and cocks a brow. “Why don’t you tell me?”
Instinctively, my grip tightens in her hair. She’s so dainty as she rides my lap, so angelic and yet so fucking dirty. She gasps in surprise as I start to move against her, thrusting my cock up between our bodies.
She stills for the barest moment; I seem to have crossed one of her boundaries though she doesn’t say so.
I take my hand out of her hair and return it to her waist, knowing that I could easily snap and take things too far.
I’ve done it before.
Hell, I’ve even done it at this club, in this booth. I’ve definitely gone all the way from kissing to fondling to being blown by a stripper.
There is something holding me back from Cerise, though. I don’t know if it’s the fact that she’s obviously had ballet training or the faux innocence that she projects. Maybe it’s her smell, a vague splash of rose but nothing too fake or flashy.
But I look into her eyes and something echoes between us. A longing, perhaps.
I wish I was the kind of man that she thinks I am. She probably just sees wealth and good looks when she looks at me.
But beneath that scarily thin veneer lies something so twisted and so dark that there is no chance at redemption. Not for me.
Cerise drags me from my thoughts by pushing up off my lap and sinking to her knees. She rubs her hands up and down my thighs, biting her plump lower lip and making eye contact with me. She lowers her head and kisses my thigh.
My eyes close for a second. Shivers of anticipation run through my veins. She’s barely even touching my leg. I haven’t felt this kind of crackling excitement since I was a teenager.
God, if Honor ever touched me like this, ever sat on my lap and ground against my cock, I?—
I don’t even know that I’m going to come before it’s already happening. By the time I realize that my balls are tingling, it’s already too late. I’m literally so surprised that I don’t even warn her that I’m about to come. I don’t say anything; my brain and my mouth are both too out of it to do more than whisper, “ohfuck.”
The orgasm bursts over me and spurts out the tip of my cock, which twitches like it is fucking possessed. It’s like a dam of pleasure has suddenly broken open. From the top of my head all the way down to my toes, I feel my endorphins pumping into my bloodstream, causing a moment of pure euphoria.
Cerise swipes her hand too close to my dick and gets a wet, sticky palm print. She looks at her hand, then looks up at me. Her eyes widen with genuine shock.
“Oh, Mr. X—” she starts, blushing furiously.
As if she’s never seen it before. As if she didn’t work for it, teasing me. As if she didn’t cause it to happen.
I shut down.
“Move,” I bark at her.
She scrambles back, standing up. My mouth twists into a grimace as I pull a card from my pocket. It’s all black with a shiny stripper pole outlined in red. I force the card into her hands.
