Page 95 of Black Sheep

He slides a finger under my chin and lifts my face. “What?” he demands.

“The way you sound, the way you look at me sometimes. Like…you’re into me,” I blurt, my tongue loosened by rum and champagne.

An almost sad expression washes over his face. “I’m so into you, you have no idea. I’m also aggressively into the sweet addiction between your legs. I love knowing that you’re completely naked under that dress. I get hard as a fucking rock watching you walk across a room, knowing your pussy is wet with my cum.”

I whimper.

“But you’re not wet right now, are you?”

“N-no.” The sound drags from me.

“Should we change that, baby?”

He doesn’t wait for my answer. A nod at the bartender, and he leaves the lounge. Axel walks me to the booth at the back of the room. He sinks down into the farthest seat and pulls me crossways into his lap. He presses a sleek remote nearby, and the lighting subtly dims.

We’re partly obscured from view with only a corner of the dance floor and the VIP bouncer’s broad back visible. The last strains of “Hotter Than Hell” pound the air, and I move my hips.

Hard hands clamp my waist. “Behave,” he grits out.

“Or what?”

His eyes darken. “You wanna push me over the edge tonight? Is that what you’re in the mood for, Cleo?”

Biting my lip, I shake my head.

“Are you sure? That frisky little ass is still moving, driving me fucking nuts.” One hand slides down to grip my hip, the other moving to fumble between us. I hear the distinct tug of his zipper, and my breath strangles.

“Axel…”

“Put your arms around my neck,” he instructs gutturally.

Refusal doesn’t stand a chance against the hot thrill spiking through me. My arms curl over his shoulders, my lower half lifting long enough for him to pull the back of my dress out of the way. The front still covers my knees.

One hand caresses my bare ass, and a lusty shiver flays me.

“Are you turned on, baby? Do you like what’s coming?” Against my hip, his cock is a thick, hot rod.

I bury my face in his neck, my head bobbing almost of its own accord.

“Tell me if you’re ready? I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I’m ready,” I groan. “So ready.”

One powerful arm around my waist tips me against him then back down again. His hips roll upward, and I’m impaled on him.

My tiny scream meets his rough grunt. We both still to absorb the impact, my channel pulsing to accommodate him.

“Okay?” he rasps against my neck.

“Y-yes.”

He huffs out a tortured breath. “Christ, you feel insanely good.” His hips flex, seating himself deeper inside me. We both groan. “Perfect. So perfect.”

We stay like that, my arms around his neck, face buried in his shoulder. His hands clamp on my waist and thigh. Then he begins to move. Slow, glorious strokes that build and build, relentlessly propelling us to our own pleasure heaven.

When he senses my impending climax, he grips my nape and tugs my face to his. Hot, wet, seeking, he tongues my mouth with the same sure strokes as his cock. The measured synergy sends me over the edge.

Half a minute later, he gives a hoarse groan. “Fuck, fuck, yes.”

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