Page 29 of Double Bucked

I shift in his lap. His hard cock rubs against my throbbing sex in such a delicious way a quiet, tiny whine escapes the back of my throat.

James doesn’t budge, but he swells suddenly between my legs. From rock-hard to diamond-hard.

What did it? The orgasm? The exhibition of it all? The whimper?

For science, I test him. I part my lips at the shell of his ear and exhale another quiet, desperate whimper. Just for him.

His hand clamps around my arm. He lifts me suddenly off his lap. I make a small noise of discomfort as he leaves my body, and in a single subtle move, he tucks himself back into his pants and stands.

He uses my body to shield his dignity, though. His pants don’t leave a lot for the imagination right now.

“I’d like a tour of the club,” he says. There’s a dark note in his tone only I can detect.

“Now?” My voice is breathless.

“Now.”

I walk like a newly fawned calf, wobbling my way through the sea of people, ignoring the Promise Sisters’ inquisitive stares. James remains right behind me, his grip tight on my arm, cutting off circulation.

“What do you want to see first?”

“This will do.”

He pulls me to the bathroom. It’s a multi-stall room with tiled floors, sea-shell-pale doors, and a long, marbled sink.

James checks the stalls, and once he’s satisfied we’re alone, he flips the lock on the door.

Those dark eyes burn from behind his glasses.

“Are you angry?” I ask.

“Fuming.”

I cock my head. I have to tilt so far back to look up at him. “What did I do?”

He cups my face in the shell of his palm. He smears my bottom lip with his thumb. “Don’t play dumb. You’re far too smart to play dumb.”

A grin teases my mouth. “I suppose I am.”

“Hands on the sink.”

I hold his gaze only a second longer before turning toward the mirrors. I drop my palms to the sink and bend over, presenting myself to him.

I lift my eyes to the mirror. I watch James take his place behind me. His large hands grasp my thighs and slip upward, bunching the ruffles of my ridiculous dress. He pushes it to my hips, and I watch him drop to a crouch. He rolls the thin, soaked fabric of my underwear down my legs. The point of his nose touches my rear. The heat of his breath warms my sex. Is he…inhaling me?

He stands, leaving me tingling with want. I remain still as he pulls on the sleeves of my dress, yanking them down my arms. He handles the fabric roughly, and I hear it rip as he yanks it down my chest so my breasts fall free.

He’s staging me. Exactly how he wants me.

He wants to see my tits when he fucks me.

My throat is dry. I wet my lips. “Are you punishing me?”

Those dark eyes meet my gaze in the mirror.

“Get on the tips of your toes. Don’t come down until I tell you to.”

I lift my heels from the floor, rising to the balls of my feet.

---