“Where?” His voice was too calm as he sat, stretched out, unmoving.
I felt a pout on my face, and I couldn’t look at him. I couldn’t see outside either. “Private room.”
He chuckled, and it sounded so Ashton-arrogant. “I don’t do private rooms at strip clubs…unless my girl wants to.” I sucked in a breath. His head tilted. “But you made it clear you don’t do girls, McNabb.” There was a slight growl in that sentence.
“I don’t!” That, I was sure of.
“Then who do you like, Nabby-girl?” The smile in his voice grated my nerves. My chest heaved, and I hated it. Why did I let this frustrating human get to me like this? “If you didn’t like Wet-Wet sexually, what had you so drawn to her when she danced?” That caused a flash memory in my mind of her arching her spine, her rolling her hips without shame, her curling her body so…femininely. “Did she make you wet?”
I jumped him. Pushing from the leather seat with my fists, I leaped up and over to him. Without thinking, I landed, straddling his hard body, my hands cradling his frustratingly good-looking face. I kissed him, hard. My hips rolled over his swollen dick and I felt his hands at my hips squeezing. Yes, my heart pounded, but my body hummed. I was horny. That’s what strip clubs and shots did to you. They made you horny and able to decide. I wanted Ashton so bad, and my body roared so loudly, I couldn’t think of Aivery if I wanted to.
All I could feel was him: the hard muscles in his thighs, the massaging of his fingers on my ass, the softness of his lips, and the speed of his tongue. This time, Ashton had to keep up with me. I devoured him, and wasn’t shy. It didn’t matter that kissing—tongue kissing was new to me—I stroked his mouth without thinking too hard.
My hand reached for the elastic waist of his sweats, then beneath his boxers until I found wiry hairs. I was afraid, but not weirded out. And I knew Ashton wouldn’t stop me. I stroked him, still rolling over air. That was until my desperation for friction, and I ripped my thong, trying to pull it to the side. Then I held his hard dick in my hand and rubbed it against myself. I was so sensitive, so frustrated. But I wasn’t afraid.
Ashton yanked down the top of my dress until my titties spilled out. When I saw them smack his face, my knees went weak. And when he kissed on one then sucked on my nipple, my head rolled back. It felt so good—he felt so good. I wasn’t ready to moan. That seemed silly to me, but if I had the balls, this would be the time to do it. My throat hurt from squeezing them down.
Then I was lifted and plopped onto the bench I started on. Ashton lifted my thighs in the air, spreading them. His face buried between my legs, tongue calm but heavy. And I was wet. Shit… This was Wet-Wet. Another flash memory of her hands all over her body. My palm went to my breasts, then fingers. I massaged them while he sucked on me. It was a feeling like no other. I felt strong, sexy. Like a woman. Like a female for the first time in my life. I didn’t feel used or manipulated. I felt pleasured.
His hands reached up and took over. Ashton did a better job. He flicked my nipples and a zap of pain opened to a tingling that had me grabbing his head. The thick carpet of waves felt good against my fingertips, turning me on even more. Oral. Who knew it felt this good?
Who knew Ashton Spencer would be making me feel this good?
My stomach lifted, hips began shaking. It didn’t take much time for me to know I was coming. I didn’t try to tense around the explosion. Instead, I relaxed into it, remembering how feminine I was. My body shook from my shoulders to my hips. Legs jerked around his shoulders. I fought off each moan until it all stopped and my feet dropped to the floor.
Ashton lifted from my sex, still on his knees. His eyes were low and face wet, including his beard. I was still on fire, still wanting him. So I lifted and went for his sweats again.
When my hand touched his hot and rock hard dick, Ashton made a