Mr One-Night Stand

‘Well, then, wouldn’t you rather...’ she leaned across the table and brought the olive to her lower lip, her cleavage forming an alluring backdrop ‘...we just got the hell out of here and had some fun?’

She parted her luscious pink mouth and popped the olive inside, her lips closing around the stick as her eyes held his with deliberate t

ease. Then slowly, painfully slowly, she pulled it out, her lips rolling outwards as they held the olive inside, stripping the stick bare.

‘I make that three olives now.’ His voice rasped, his mouth drying up at the inviting slickness of her lips.

She considered him, her throat moving captivatingly as she devoured the green ball. ‘Three—really?’ She smiled playfully, dropping the stick into her glass with a ting. ‘You’re very observant.’

‘When something’s worth observing I’d say I am.’

‘Is that what I am? Worth observing?’

‘You with that drink—definitely.’ His voice was tight with the effort of holding back, and his lack of control was so alien he knew he was in trouble. But right now he didn’t care. ‘In fact, if I was a religious man, I’d say the devil invented drinks such as those.’

‘The devil?’ Her brow furrowed and she nibbled thoughtfully at her lip, the innocent gesture smashing the last of his restraint. ‘Because of the corrupting alco—?’

‘No,’ he interjected, pushing himself out of his seat and striding to stand before her.

She looked up at him questioningly, her throat bobbing as she swallowed. He knew he’d surprised her but, he couldn’t wait any longer. To hell with where they were.

Reaching for her hand, he took hold of it and tugged her to her feet, the force sending her unresisting body right up against his own, her eyes flashing as they lighted on his mouth so close to her own.

‘Because they make me forget all decency and do this...’ He cupped her chin and roughly took her mouth in his, his tongue taking no prisoners in its desperation to sink inside.

An explosion of sensations went off at once. She tasted like heaven, like the olive, the vodka, the traces of gloss across her lips... And then she sighed, the soft, feminine sound escaping her lips as she gave way to his invasion and he lost himself in her. Her hands snaked through his hair, her tongue seeking out his own, twisting and flicking, tasting and probing...

His surroundings disappeared as every sense focused on her: her kiss, her smell, the feel of her breasts pushed up against him, the little sounds she was making, the desperate buck of his cock as it pressed into her lower belly.

There was a movement behind him, the brush of a chair and a muttered ‘Excuse me.’ It filtered through his brain, through the haze.

‘Get a room,’ a voice said.

His internal voice or a real person? He didn’t know. He didn’t care.

But he should care...

He should!

Reality came crashing down—he needed them out of there. Now.

Forcing himself to slow down, he tried to part their mouths, their faces. He was rewarded with her teeth nipping at his bottom lip. A playful protest that felt anything but...

‘Spoilsport,’ she complained, and her pout was to die for.

He took a steadying breath. ‘You’re cheeky, sweetheart.’

One hand still cupping her face, he freed his other hand to rub it across his own, trying to get himself composed. He should be more unnerved by his lack of self-control—but fuck did he want to run with it regardless. Something told him that letting go would be worth it. That she would be worth it.

He scanned the bar. No one seemed to be looking their way. But that wasn’t to say they hadn’t been seconds before. That voice had sounded real enough.

‘We were having fun,’ she said, drawing him back, her eyes wide and alluring.

‘We were having fun.’ He repeated her words. ‘But I think we could have more fun elsewhere. I can have my driver here in five?’

Her eyes flittered and his chest tightened. Was she going to refuse him?

‘Driver, you say?’