Page 73 of When Hearts Ignite

“Fuck me,” he groans as I straighten back up, my hands skimming my stomach before curling around each breast, playing with the heaviness, pushing them together, squeezing them, molding them. Every sensation is a caress straight to my core, and I can feel myself leaking out of my thong, but I couldn’t care less.

The song crests, the singer belting out, “You’re my stars in the skies, my everlasting high…our souls intertwined…”

I let out a whimper. The music. His body heat. The way his hardness yields to my softness. The way everything feels too sensitive, too raw.

My eyes flutter open, finding his heavy, half-lidded gaze moving from my aching breasts mere inches away from his mouth to my parted lips as I let out another moan.

The sensations in my pussy heighten with every pass over the tent on his pants and the last vestiges of rational thought leave my mind as I bear down on him, grinding my clit along his length.

“Holy fuck,” he growls as his hips arch up, thrusting into me.

His hands find the tops of my ass and his fingers dig in so tightly it almost hurts, but only adds to the maddening pleasure gathering between us. The thought he shouldn’t be touching me barely registers because I need his hands on me more than I need my next breath of air.

I gyrate and move faster, my tits shaking and swaying to the song. His nose skims the tips of my breasts, his teeth making an appearance as he scrapes across the tender flesh. I mewl, my body bouncing on him harder, the burning heat gathering between my legs like a storm. His thrusts are stronger, every movement swiping precisely past my entrance to my clit, unleashing fresh torrents of wetness, no doubt leaving a mark on his slacks.

But I don’t care. My mind is on hiatus, my body a slave to the sensations only this man can provide to me.

He brings his lips up to my neck, softly kissing and sucking the tender column as I fall back once more, bouncing on his hard cock, which I’m surprised hasn’t dug a hole out of his pants yet.

He nips and grazes my pulse points and growls, “Yes, you greedy girl, make yourself come on the cock that has been hard only for you for the past nine months.”

His words belatedly register in my mind as the sharp pleasure builds to an aching point and I bear down, rubbing his tip over my swollen nub and everything explodes in a flash of white light and glittering stars. I let out a throaty scream, and he smashes his lips on mine, his hips thrusting erratically, humping my wet, thong-clad pussy. His tongue dives in and he conquers my mouth in a blazing heat and a thousand sensations, prolonging my orgasm, as the walls of my pussy throb in aftershocks.

With a loud groan, he shakes against me, his mouth still tangling with mine, as if trying to swallow me whole. I feel a wet warmth seeping from his pants, and he drops his head onto my breasts, his mouth panting heavily, his breaths sending shivers over my damp, sweat coated tits.

Another song is playing from the speaker now as my body cools down from the most mind-blowing orgasm I’ve ever had, and we didn’t even have sex.

The sounds of our breathing are harsh in the room and a renewed heat crawls up my face as I realize what we just did, how I performed my first lap dance for him and came all over his lap.

Belated horror crashes into the party, an unwelcome guest, and I scramble off his lap, my hands shaking while I adjust my dress and pull everything back in place.

My legs wobble and my eyes finally sweep back up toward his face and what I see sends another scorching heatwave through me.

Fevered eyes. Parted, swollen lips. My lipstick smudged on his face.

His hands are curled against his lap in tight fists once more as he sits there, stupefied, his nostrils flaring, like he wants to haul me back into his arms and finish what we started.

My core clenches, feeling empty, needy, achy for him, and I quickly back away a few more paces.

“Hope my performance was satisfactory, Mr. Kingsley. And you’re banned from Trésor from now on. You can’t disrupt my life like this.” If I explain to Sofia about the situation, she’ll back me up. I know she will.

He flinches.

And like a coward, I run away.

Jab. Swish. Jab.

I parry and dodge the foil aiming for my neck and torso from what seems to be multiple directions as Ryland and I move on the piste, the mat in the fencing club next to the boxing gym within The Orchid.

Sweat drips down my hair within my mask. My body, encased in the classic white fencing uniform, is burning with residual energy from last night at Trésor with Grace. She fucking ran away from me again after she came so sweetly on my lap, leaving me with a hard on to end all hard ons even after I came in my pants.

Why won’t she let me help her? Grunting, I block an attack from Ryland, my mind in a convoluted mess.

Then there was the blistering phone call I received from Mother this morning.

“I couldn’t believe it when Linda Winstead told me. You bought out a strip club for the entire night at The Orchid for a dancer? How could you? You’re a Kingsley. This is appalling.”

“It’s none of your business, Mother. I’m not like Emily or Jess, and I won’t listen to you.”

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