pile of petals, the red showing through the lace. The night air hit her bare skin and her nipples felt as if they were on fire. Every step increased the need burning between her legs.
Cup your breasts for me.
She’d never felt sexier in her life. She loved his voice. So mesmerizing. The truth was, she’d do anything for him. She wanted to give him every single thing he wanted. She wanted to be his woman in every way possible. She slid her palms up her body to her breasts, cupping them as he’d asked. Imagining him in front of her, watching as she lifted and held them out to him.
Thumbs on your nipples, Charlotte. Brush back and forth while you continue walking.
She was very glad she’d shed her heels. She almost hadn’t, because it was sexy walking in them in just her thong and bra, but she might have stumbled. Her body was on fire. In need. Weeping for him. She did as he asked and with each brush of her thumb across her sensitive, tight nipples, her sex clenched and spasmed.
She kept walking and when she was close to the carousel, the large one in the yard, the one Tariq had carved and put together on a platform, she shed her panties, letting them fall to the ground as she stepped onto the platform.
She heard a soft rustle behind her, but she didn’t hesitate; she reached for the wild-looking horse and turned her finger in a circle so the platform began to rotate. Only then did she look over her shoulder as she stood on the horse’s back, hand on the pole, her hair flowing as the carousel turned and the music began to play.
He stood on the platform in his dark gray suit, looking so gorgeous her heart beat triple time. Her discarded thong was in his hand and he pressed it to his nose, inhaling her scent. That was so sexy she nearly fell off the horse, her heart thudding and her pulse beating double time in her swollen clit.
She began to climb the pole, moving to the music, letting it take her, letting her body move sensuously in a promise to him. She moved with a slow, deliberate undulating motion, her hips thrusting one way and then another, her breasts swaying in invitation.
She gave herself to him. Just him. A private dance for the man she loved. Then he was with her, on the opposite side of the pole, moving in time to the music, his hands skimming her body as she danced for him. A touch. His fingers drifting over her breast. His hand cupping her mound and sliding away. A brush against the inside of her thigh.
His clothes drifted to the platform floor, and she caught the pole, shimmied to the top and turned upside down. Slowly, like a sensuous snake she began her descent. Sliding down past his chest, she flicked her tongue at his enormous cock. It strained toward her, reaching for her mouth. She took the offering and heard his moan.
Licking and sucking, she let the carousel move her up and down, sliding her mouth over him in a tight suction and then sliding almost away. His hand moved up her thigh, rested there, just at her entrance. So hot. He filled her mouth with velvet and steel. His taste was addicting. She danced her tongue and took him deeper as the horse rode high, so that she had to nearly swallow him to keep her mouth over him. Then the horse dropped and she went back up.
His hand caught her head, fingers tightening in her hair. She loved that. His silent command only made her hotter. She took him as deep as she was able, feeling him swell, feeling the heat of his essence rising. She drank him down, and then gently laved at him, not wanting this to end, but loving that she’d given it to him.
When she lifted her head, her heart stuttered in her chest. She was looking at the predator—her predator—and he was wholly focused on her as if he might devour her. His eyes gleamed. His thick chestnut hair flowed wildly around him. He caught her to him, one hand on the pole, the only thing anchoring them to the carousel. She was still upside down, and he pushed her head against his still-hard cock while he yanked her legs up and around his neck so that her mound was tight against his mouth. The