Stealing His Thunder (Masters of Adrenaline 1)
“Dance.”
“What?”
The club’s music throbbed through the room through the closed door, almost as loud as it had been on the dance floor.
“You heard me.”
The blush that bloomed in her cheeks led him to fantasize about shoving her down to fuck that pretty face of hers.
“I-I don’t know how to dance.”
“Then what were you doing out there?” he asked, jerking a thumb back toward the main room.
“That’s different. There were people around. You were dancing with me.” She smiled, then held out her hand.
So lovely, this girl. How could he resist?
He took her hand and pulled her close again, kissing her as they swayed together. They were moving too slow for the actual beat of the music, but she molded her body to his and ground against him. Her hips swayed, sinuous, and she thrust her tits against him. Her expression was playful yet sinful. Her normally sweet blue eyes were narrowed with lust. She turned her back to him, tugging the hem of her dress slowly upward, grinding shamelessly and teasingly against his erection. The look she threw him over her shoulder invited him to take control.
He swallowed hard, and she looked amused.
Bitch.
It was painfully tempting to grab her and guide his cock into her tight body, but instead he slid her dress up higher and brushed teasing fingers over her perfect ass, then lowered himself into a chair. With a laugh, she swayed her ass in his face, and he grabbed her hips and bit her, leaving a crisp outline of his teeth like a red brand in her pale flesh.
She gasped, and tossed her hair asi
de with a sensual flick, then glared back at him. Damn, this girl was so fucking hot. “No touching the performers, mister.”
He ran a hand over her other ass cheek and got distracted by the point where her fuchsia thong dipped into the crevasse of her ass, but she moved away, smirking.
Ugh. Such a bad girl. Such a fucking tease.
“You used to dance?” he asked, only half-curious. Most of his brain was busy fantasizing about doing fiendish things to her.
Abruptly, she stopped dancing. “No!” She laughed. “I just like watching online, and I dance like this while I’m cleaning my apartment.”
“And then drive men crazy in storage rooms on the side?”
“No, I’ve never danced like this with a guy before.”
Never? His ego prompted him to ask, “Why not?”
She shrugged. “No one ever asked.”
Ouch. He laughed inwardly. What had he expected? That she’d admit to having a huge crush on him? Well, it’d only be fair. He had one on her, and it was her own damn fault.
He rose again and pulled her to him, his stomach to her back. With her heels on, he didn’t have to lean down so far to bury his face in her hair. She wriggled her ass against his groin, and his brain tried to short circuit. It was hard to ignore what she was offering, but he had plans. Kissing her neck, he walked her over to a stack of boxes and leaned her over.
“Stay.”
When he stepped back, his gaze lingered on the invitation the position provided. She was waiting for his next move. She never argued when she wanted cock.
At his hesitation, she glanced back over her shoulder, looking less certain of herself.
“Did you bring a condom?”
He had, but he was trying to stop himself from taking her now. “I’ve been tested,” she added, assuming he hadn’t brought one. “And I’m on the pill. If you’re clean . . .”