of the table. “What makes you say that?”
“Uh, I don’t know. How about the royal treatment?”
He gestures at my beer as if wondering if I need him to open it. I give him a look and then crack it on the table, just as he did, but the problem is I never really do that. I normally use bottle openers when I drink beer, like a civilized person. Somehow the beer goes everywhere, frothing all over the table.
“Ah shit,” I say, leaning back. “I blame that on you. You made it look too easy.”
“I own this club,” he says casually, sliding his hand along the table, through the beer.
“What are you doing?” I laugh.
He lifts two fingers toward me, dripping with beer. I feel a thrum deep in my belly. My sex is pulsing in tune with the music.
“Don’t waste your drink,” he says, black eyes regarding me hungrily.
“Are you kidding me?” I say, but my voice is breathy.
I want this, I realize. Oh fuck, I’m in deep now.
“I am in no way kidding you, Dani.”
“You want me to—”
“I think it’s clear what I want you to do,” he growls, with the barest hint of a smile.
I have to say this is weird. But, at the same time, my body is giving me not-very-complicated signals. I feel warm, dizzy. I lean forward, hardly believing I’m doing this, as I grab his wrist and bring my lips to his fingers like it’s the tip of his dick.
And I suck.
He slides his other hand up my thigh and this time I don’t stop him. The denim is furious heat against my center now. I can hardly stand it. I just want more of him.
He sees this, sliding his fingers out and leaning in. Our kiss makes both of us moan, and then he leans back with captivated eyes. “You want to watch me?” I moan.
He smiles slightly. “How could you tell?”
I shift my hip, forcing my sex down on his hand. His body is just as tight as the tension moving through me. His muscles are strained. We’re in this together. “You want to feel me, playboy?” I tease.
He can’t hold back his smile now. He whispers close to my neck, breath tickling, “I want to feel your pussy get hot and wet for me. I want to feel your jeans get fucking soaked, Dani. And then I want to feel you come. Your whole body shaking. Your eyes rolling back in your head. Then, when I’m so hard I can’t take it anymore, I’m going to tear those jeans off and fuck you like my life depends on it.”
I go to answer, but before I can even form the first words, he moves his hand even quicker and my voice is seized in my throat. I can’t take it anymore. I’m ignited.
I grab his wrist for dear life as I ride his hand like a bucking bronco. Then everything gets tight and close and so hot I can’t take it.
I come, hard.
“I need to feel you,” he snarls as I’m still tumbling head-over-heels in the throes of my orgasm. Somewhere back on earth, I’m distantly aware of Angelo tugging my jeans down. “You’re wild, Dani. Fucking wild.”
“Save the pick-up lines for someone else. You’ve already got me. For now.”
Soon, I’m bottomless and he’s naked. The reason for this mismatch is that I sort of tear his shirt off, and by ‘sort of’ I mean I freaking rip his shirt off. I can’t help myself. Buttons go flying as I straddle him, rubbing my bare lips up and down his length. He’s huge, at least nine inches, a bulging rod slipping closer and closer to my wetness. My lips are soaked. Everything is tingling electrically.
I brace my hands on his chest. His see-through shirt didn’t lie. Hello, muscles straight from my wildest fantasies: bulging pecs, ridged abs that trace down to a V so sharp you could slice your hand on it. He has a few scars, too, lightly tattooed across his bronzed skin. He lifts me off my feet and carries me to the bar.
I wrap my legs around him, hooking my heels under his firm ass. The bar is cold, but it doesn’t matter because he’s burning up. Sweat is sliding down between his pecs. He arches his back and, oh-fuck-oh-shit-oh-no…
His massive cock slides deep inside of me. There’s none of that fumbling that comes from this being our first time. We’re both too full of pent-up energy for that.