“No need. Remember, I perform for a living.”

Fuck. The thought of her performing for me has my cock impossibly hard. If it were any harder, I’m sure I’d need to seek medical attention. I loosen the top two buttons on my shirt, suddenly finding it hard to breathe.

“What are you thinking over there? Your face is turning a lovely shade of red.”

“A lady wouldn’t tease a man like that.”

“I’m not a lady tonight, though, just a woman fed up with always being proper and doing what I should.”

Three

HARLOW

Is it mean of me to push Hendrix when I know he’s struggling with control as it is? Probably, but I’m enjoying it a little too much. I want him to snap. I want him to lose control. And I want to be the one on the receiving end of that.

“What are you thinking right now?” I ask.

I watch his throat work as he swallows. “I’m thinking a lot of things. Like if you taste as sweet as the champagne, how hot you would look bent over the counter with your ass in the air, what you would look like riding me. And since I’m being honest here, what you would look like on your knees with those gorgeous lips wrapped around my cock.”

I swallow, the sound of my heartbeat filling my ears. I don’t know who moves first, and I can’t say that I really care enough to dissect the situation.

It’s as if I move without touching the ground. The second the urge to touch him gets too strong, I’m there in front of Hendrix, his fingers digging into my hair, loosening the pins holding the curls in place.

“I have craved the taste of your lips since the last time I had you in my arms,” he all but growls before capturing my lips in a hungry kiss, his mouth moving against mine, fighting for control. The second his tongue runs across my bottom lip I give up the last ounce of control I was trying to hold on to. I whimper, needing more, wanting him to take whatever it is he needs from me.

Hendrix says something, but the sound of my own heartbeat in my ears is louder than his whisper. His lips move along my jaw and down my neck before his tongue slips along the deep cut of my dress, tasting the exposed skin. My head falls back. I didn’t realize how badly I wanted to be touched by him, and now I don’t ever want him to stop.

“Don’t worry, gorgeous, I’m not stopping,” he answers, making me realize I said the words out loud.

“Should we be doing this?” I ask, hoping he won’t come to his senses and stop but wanting to give us both an excuse to stop.

Pulling back, his eyes meet mine, the heat in his gaze setting my skin on fire. “Remember what I said? It’s just in here. And as long as you can stay quiet enough, we can go back to worrying about what we should do when we leave this bathroom. What I do know is that if we stop right now, I will never forgive myself. I need to know what every inch of you tastes like. I need to know what you feel like when you come on my fingers, my face, and my dick.”

“Yes.”

“Yes what, Harlow?”

“Yes to all of it. I want all of that too.”

“That’s my girl.” His voice is rough. Reaching behind me, he grabs the bottle of champagne I left on the counter. “Right now I really want to find out if the champagne tastes better this way.” Before I can ask what he means, he tips the bottle, pouring a small stream across the top of my breasts before following the path with his tongue, licking the sweetness from my skin.

“Is it better?”

Instead of answering, he takes a small pull from the bottle before taking my lips in another kiss, this one slower. Opening my mouth to him, I welcome the taste of the champagne on his tongue.

“Turn around and face the mirror.” Hendrix steps back, helping me turn.

The woman in the mirror looks nothing like me. Her hair is a mess, her lips are puffy, and her eyes are hooded. I watch Hendrix’s reflection as his lips move down my neck, sucking and biting the skin before soothing it with his tongue. His hands sliding down my sides, toward the slit at my thigh. Holding my breath, I wait for him to find out exactly what I’m not wearing under my dress.

“Fuck.” The second the word is out of his mouth, I gasp. His fingers slide along the warm exposed skin between my legs. “You’ve been like this all night?” His voice raspy.

“Yes,” I moan, not sure if I’m simply answering him or telling him yes as his finger slips inside me.

“Were you hoping something like this would happen?”

When I don’t answer, he starts to remove his finger. Squeezing my legs together I try to keep his hand where it is, not wanting him to stop.

“Answer the question and I’ll give you more.”