Page 54 of Meet Me in Montreal

“Because you never partied without me. You got me out of my head. It’s like somebody finally gave me permission to shake my butt and have some fun.”

Santino’s pleasure at her admission shone in his face. He swigged down his drink in one gulp, put the cup down on a ledge, and pulled her against him. His mouth curved into a grin as he stared into her eyes. His strong hands moved down to her ass and gave it a healthy squeeze, keeping her hips pressed against his to feel his thickness come to life as he began to move her to the pumping bass.

“Finish that and let’s have more of that fun you were talking about,” he urged softly.

After another sip of her drink and the immediate rush to her head, she let him take the cup from her and put it down on that ledge, all the while keeping their hips pressed together as they moved as one.

This part of the room was darkened. The people around them were all shadows, either absorbed in dancing or swaying to the hot, heavy beats or intoxicated. Most likely both, like she was now, except her intoxication was only a little from the alcohol.

Most of it was him, the fruit-punch flavor of his mouth, and the hard tongue stroking against hers. Vanessa was inebriated on the heavy ridge of his cock pressing against her pussy through his khakis and her skirt as they ground together. She was drunk on desire for him that coursed hot through her veins when he kissed beneath her ear and surreptitiously rubbed her nipples to throbbing hardness through her thin shirt with his fingertips. He swallowed down her surprised half-moan, half-laugh as flashing red and blue lights lit up the ceiling above them. They blendeddeeper into the shadows, until he hit the wall and roughly hauled her against him even tighter.

She could discern vague movement on either side of them in this recessed area. She couldn’t see anything, couldn’t hear much above the music, only the occasional hint of a whisper that would be quickly drowned out by the speakers. Everyone in the room beyond them would be blinded by the white strobe lights.

She and Santino were invisible. And with the power of invisibility came freedom.

Another thing she’d loved about partying with Santino was that he couldmove. The same rhythm that pounded fantastic orgasms out of her was also in how he danced with confidence she found incredibly sexy. His focus was solely on her, all his raw energy and sensuality reserved for her. Vanessa drank it in, forgetting for once to be nervous about any of the strangers in the next room seeing her dance, seeing anything that might happen. All of her focus was on him.

All at once she realized he was pushing down her panties hastily, unzipping his pants, blind and rough and quick and then…oh…his cock was sliding into her pussy. One more sharp, hard thrust while hooking her legs up around his waist and gripping her ass with his strong hands, and he was all the way in. She bit back a cry and rolled her hips on him, and he pumped, like the bass of the music in her body, like the drum of her heartbeat against his.

“Fuck…Oh fuck me, Santino, fuck me…” She moaned it in his ear. No one else would hear her.

“Tesoro…”

The pressure of his hips against hers, the rocking of his cock against that perfect spot at that perfect angle, the next feather-light kiss under her ear and she was suddenly sailing into a delicious pulsing release right there, surrounded by darknessand hot bodies, bass throbbing into her body, her nose full of the sweet smell of punch and herbal essences andhim.

Santino kept her right there, and she held on to his shoulders. He slid her up and down his length while his heartbeat pounded against her chest like a stallion running free. Vanessa rode that stallion, rode him until the last spasm had been wrung out of her. His climax was right behind hers. She knew it when his head tipped back, and he groaned deep in his throat while his dick twitched and erupted inside her. A dark pink strobe passed over his face, and his mouth was parted, eyes still squeezed shut with rapture.

It was the fucking sexiest sight she’d ever seen. Well, at least since that morning when he’d come in her mouth and on her cheek. She wanted him to do that to her, again and again. The next wild swing of light revealed that he’d opened his eyes, and he was still panting with that dazed expression she loved. Then they were plunged once again in the secret dark.

His mouth found hers again and he kissed her hungrily. Vanessa pulled her lips away to whisper one word in his ear.

“More.”

18

ANTISOCIAL

VANESSA

“Come on, wifey. I need more of that,” Santino mumbled. Cupping her soaked pussy, he was still breathing heavily but his cock was already stirring.

They’d all but run out of that party the night before to get back to the hotel as fast as possible. They’d stripped and fucked until they’d fallen asleep boneless with the room smelling of sex. She didn’t care and neither did he, but when they finally rolled out of bed to take their morning shower they’d landed right back in bed afterward. Then on the couch. The little table in the entryway. And finally, bed again, where they’d just finished their latest session.

“No, I’m done, I’m done,” she groaned with a laugh. Then when he stroked over her clit with his calloused thumb, she relented with a soft sigh. “Oh, okay. If you insist…”

Just as she was rolling on top of him, kissing and nipping at his neck while he laughed, her phone pinged.

“That better not be who I think it is,” Santino said with a growl, grasping her ass with both hands and squeezing hard, forcing her up and down his length.

Vanessa murmured with delight, sliding her pussy against his rapidly growing cock. “I don’t want to know either way.”

Santino cupped the back of her head to bring their faces together for a kiss, then grinned up at her. Now it wasn’t just her ass getting squeezed, it was her heart, at the way he was looking at her. She didn’t think she’d ever get over how beautiful he was, how beautiful she felt under his gaze or how much she lov—

Not that. Not love. Not again.

She had to remind herself that this was a deal, an arrangement, a this for that. And maybe the excellent dick was the icing on the cake for her as well as him, something she had to do to get any lingering lust for him out of her system once and for all.

But if she were going to put some poetry on this thing, she’d regard it as a bubble, shining clear with hints of pink and purple and blue on its surface. This was the cumulative effect of beautiful weather, soul-nourishing music, and time away from the usual thankless grind without the responsibilities of everyday life. In Montreal, there were no experiences tied to memories, no critical outside voices telling them who they were or what they should have or want. Here, they were free to be different people. Better people.

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