Page 5 of Spinning Out Of Control

I swallow hard. Her intent is clear as day, and the speed at which my cock thickens behind my zipper makes me lightheaded.

I shouldn’t do this. I’m twenty years older than her. We’re in the middle of our mutual friend’s wedding reception. There are a million reasons I should say no.

But then Kira leans forward and presses her lips to mine again, more insistent this time. I taste champagne and the sweet flavor of her lip gloss, and the thin band of myself restraint snaps.

“Lead the way, love.”

2

WARREN

Watching the hem of Kira’s skirt dance across the back of her legs as she leads me off the dance floor, past the tables littered with discarded silverware and through the gauzy white flaps of the tent, I’m fucking mesmerized. I can’t be bothered to look up and see if anyone is watching us leave, not when I’m too busy watching the shimmery glitter dusting Kira’s long legs glimmer in the moonlight.

I let her drag me into the chilly night air, the breeze from the bay sending Kira’s lovely hair whipping over her shoulder. It’s so cold that in any other circumstance, I might be concerned about my dick shriveling up into my body for warmth. Lucky for me, the bastard is already straining to break through the front of my slacks.

“Where are you taking me?” I ask as we stride further and further from the lights of the party behindus. Kira smiles at me over her shoulder but doesn’t answer, instead continuing to lead me silently towards what looks like an equipment shed for the park rangers. When she pushes open the door, I see that the space has been made up like a dressing room of sorts. It must have served as the bridal suite earlier today. Women’s shoes, makeup, and various hair tools scatter the spacious room, and the entire room smells like vanilla and hairspray.

The door closes behind me, and Kira turns to reach around my waist, fiddling with the lock until it clicks. Then she’s up on her tiptoes, hands caressing my cheeks as she pulls my face down towards hers.

“Wait,” I say, pulling away slightly. “Are you drunk, love?” There are bottles of Dom Perignon scattered around and we just shared a drink at the reception. I want whatever Kira is planning on giving me, but only if she is in her mind and body while doing so.

“No,” she shakes her head, smiling softly. “I didn’t partake in the pre-wedding mimosas. Didn’t want to trip and fall on my face in front of everyone. I’ve got a little of a buzz going from the champagne, but I’m sober enough to know that I want you, Ren.”

Kira slides a hand down between us, palming my erection through my pants, and fuck. Who am I to argue with that logic?

I groan as she gives me a squeeze, the pressure making my head go fuzzy.

This time, when my lips touch hers, it’s not a gentlecaress. It’s not tentative or searching. It’s the moment before something hot and bruising. A simmering pot of desire that’s ready to boil over. I slide my hand around the nape of her neck, twisting my fingers into her hair as I finally–finally–crush our mouths together. She moans against me, pushing back and biting down on my bottom lip. When I part my lips, her tongue plunges first, tangling with mine in a fight for dominance. She tastes like bubbly champagne and lemon frosting, sweet and sour in a way that makes my skin tingle.

She works the buttons of my shirt as we kiss, freeing a few at the top before pawing at my chest, scratching and digging into my skin with her glittering pink nails. I press my groin into her belly, and she mutters incoherently into my mouth. I feel her legs part, and I shift to slot my thigh between them. The action nudges the hemline of her dress up, and even through the fabric of my pants I can feel the heat of her cunt as she presses down on me. I run a hand along her thigh, reveling in the goosebumps that cover her otherwise silky flesh. I grip her hip, ready to lift her up onto the counter, undo my zipper and slide inside her when I realize–

“Fuck.”

“What?” she pants when I pull away from her addicting lips.

“I don’t have a condom.” I curse myself for my stupidity. I don’t make random hookups a habit, so condoms aren’t something I carry regularly.

Kira arches one of those perfectly manicuredeyebrows at me, then strokes her fingers through a grey streak of hair by my ear.

“C’mon, Ren, don’t look so sad. You’ve been around the block. You know there are still plenty of ways we can both get off without fucking. My lips felt good on yours, didn’t they?” She drops those lips to my throat, working open-mouthed kisses along the sensitive skin and up to my jaw, humming as she goes. “Imagine how good they’ll feel wrapped around your cock.”

Fucking Christ. Whatever thin thread of self-control I’d been holding onto until now is blasted to smithereens. I push the hem of Kira’s dress up to her waist, revealing a pair of pink lacy panties that I want to steal. Cherish them. Build a shrine to them in my home. I grip her hips and place her firm ass on a nearby table while she squeals with delight.

“Spread your legs and put your feet up on the table. I want to see your cunt before I taste it.”

She clicks her tongue at me, shaking her head.

“You’re cocky suddenly. You might have the sexy silver fox thing going for you, but just because you’re older than me doesn’t mean you can go bossing me around. I’m not going to call you ‘Daddy’.”

I smirk as I grip her calves, helping her spread and put her feet on the table where I want them. Dropping to my knees, I take in the forbidden sight of her mound, hidden by damp lace.

“Little pest. I think we both know that by the timethis is all over, I’m more likely to be the one on my knees calling you ‘Daddy’.”

“Oh my god,” she chuckles, her thighs shaking under my touch. “That was so not sexy, Ren.”

God, her laugh is musical. The sound of it is addictive. I smile, turning my face to press kisses along her inner thigh.

“I know, but it made you laugh, didn’t it?”

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