Chapter 18
18
Alejandro
I shove the stage door open. It collides with the wall, echoing across the stage as I stride inside. I have the distinct impression I’ve interrupted something.
In the middle, Shanna stands wearing the corset, garter, and thong I sent her—and looking every bit as drop-dead sexy as I knew she would. Though my dick is already hard at the thought of being inside her, this outfit adds to the red blood cell count below my waist.
But the righteous anger on her face makes me pause. Especially when I see Del two feet away, hunched over, clutching his balls and glaring at her.
What the hell?
“She’s got a very mean knee.”
“He’s got the disposition of a manwhore.”
Anger crashes into me with the same impact as driving a hundred miles an hour straight into a brick wall. “You made a move on her?”
“Yes!” Shanna shouts.
Del tries to stand up straight and shrugs. “You said she had a habit of switching dance partners. I wondered if that extended to sex. She swore you two had nothing going. If that’s true, why would she kick me?”
Then my friend does something bizarre. He winks.
I frown…until everything starts falling into place. Del was testing her. If Shanna doesn’t care a thing about me, she would go for Del. Women do—in droves. Shanna was turned on by him watching her just days ago. Why not follow through?
Because since our last scene together, her feelings for me have grown stronger than she wants to admit. And Del’s pass pissed her off.
I resist the urge to smile as hope curls in my belly, warms my heart, and makes my dick even stiffer. I’ll test my theory tonight.
“We don’t have time to argue. Let's get started. Del, show the crowd in. Security tells me people are lined up down the hallway. Shanna, turn around and put your hands behind your back.”
With a nod, Del turns and heads for the door.
No surprise, Shanna hesitates. She assumed I’d be angry that Del came onto her. She assumed I’d be possessive. If I didn't know Del so well and wasn't sure how my friend’s mind works, I would.
Instead, I intend to enjoy the fireworks between Shanna and me before I get to the bottom of whatever is in her heart. Del is just helping me along.
“Is there a problem?” I ask. “People will file in soon. We should be in position.”
“Fine.” She presents me with her back.
What a luscious view! Feminine shoulders tapering down to a narrow red-corseted back. The black thong bisects a firm, feminine ass I’ve fantasized about fucking. Those garters and black thigh-high stockings hugging the toned curves of her legs damn near have me on my knees.
And if I play my cards right, she’ll be all mine.
Forcing my stare back to her wrists crossed at the small of her back, I grab them. With a flick and two quick clicks, I secure her in handcuffs.
She whirls on me with murder in her eyes. “What the hell are you doing? Take these off! I didn’t sign up for this. We didn’t discuss–”
I cut off her tirade by cupping her nape and covering her mouth with mine. She struggles…for a moment. Then I sweep inside her mouth, tunnel my hands in her hair, and kiss her as if my very life depends on it.
She melts.
With a gentle nip and a soothing kiss to cover the sting, I pull back and whisper, “We have an audience.”
Releasing her, I walk a half circle around her and cozy up to her back, letting her feel the heat of my body. She gasps.
The curve of her neck beckons, and I trail my lips up the graceful line and soft skin.
Briefly, I open my eyes and discover at least twenty-five people in the room—and more filing in. Perfect. Maybe we’ll catch this blackmailing asshole tonight.
Then I put everything out of my mind—except Shanna.
I start at her shoulders, but my hands develop a mind of their own. Down they plunge, right over the curves of her breasts, pushed up by the tight corset. But having those nipples covered isn’t going to do.
In a few seconds, I brush through the little fastenings holding the garment together. It falls to the stage in a boned rustle of fabric.
Men groan in the audience as I bare her breasts to them. Shanna tenses. I can feel her shivering. Cold? I don’t think so. Nerves? Maybe. Excitement. Definitely. I can already smell a hint of her arousal.
Eagerly, I reach around and cup her breasts in my hands, squeezing her nipples between my thumbs and fingers. She writhes, wriggling her ass against me.
With a yank, I drag the sheer thong from her body. Another collective groan rings from the audience. Guys shift their weight from one foot to another, adjust themselves in their pants, sit forward in their chairs. Shanna begins to pant.
I drag my palms down her abdomen. I itch to feel the silk of her pussy, gauge just how wet she is.
Moments later, I have my answer. She’s wet, welcoming, lush. Shanna might lie about her feelings for me, but her body can’t.
Now is the perfect time to start testing my theory…
A quick point at Del brings my friend up on the stage. Shanna tenses again. This time, I don’t think it’s due to excitement.
Before she can say a word, I whisper, “I want to watch your breasts be sucked. Del will help us out.”
“No,” she whimpers.
“You change partners all the time. Why does it matter?”
Del approaches her and presses his body close to Shanna’s. I don’t say a word, just lift her breasts up to him.
Just before he bends to her, Del sends her a smile that says he’s ready for scorching hot sex.
“It just matters,” she whispers. “Please no.”
Lifting dark eyes to me, Del waits for a cue.
I have what I want for now. I shake my head.
With a wry grin, Del contents himself by placing a chaste kiss on the curve of her breast. But to show he isn’t going to be dismissed, he takes a seat on a nearby pillow and sends a sizzling stare her way.
In truth, I know we have to play along, just in case our blackmailer is in the room. But I want nothing more than to get Shanna alone. Soon, I promise myself.
Turning her toward me, I see her stage smile collapse. She looks at me with a mixture of hurt, anger, and relief. Apparently, swapping partners does matter to her. And the sooner I get her to admit that about dance, the sooner she’ll settle into having one man in her life.
Impatient to touch her, I tear down the zipper of my leather pants and free my stiff cock. “Suck me.”
I kick a pillow under her knees. Shanna hesitates, then sinks down, bends her head, and consumes me.
Oh, hell . Her mouth is a silken oven, soft and scorching and robbing me of breath. She damn sure knows what to do with that tongue of hers, caressing the length of my staff, curling it around the head. She sucks deep and hard, all the way to the back of her throat.
My heartbeat rattles in my chest. My ears buzz with excitement. Faintly, I’m aware of male groans and a “fuck, yeah,” from the audience. But focusing beyond Shanna’s hot mouth is growing impossible.
As wonderful as it is, it has to stop. We have a show to put on for these guests—and a potential blackmailer. A blow job is all well and good, but not blackmail-worthy, compared to Kristoff’s performance.
With a groan of regret, I cup her cheeks and lift her mouth from my cock. Then I help her to her feet. In four steps, I have her bent over the huge, cushioned bed, her breasts pressed to the silk comforter. A few seconds later, I’m sheathed and deep inside her.
She grips me like no one ever has, like every contour has been formed just to clench around me perfectly.
I seize her hips and tunnel deeper. Then set a ruthless pace.
She cries out. The sight of her all spread out under me, her hands still cuffed at the small of her back, her pussy taking every inch I have…hell, I’m not going to last long. And I don’t want to go off alone.
“I ache to play with your clit and feel you orgasm around me…” I haven’t even finished the sentence before I slide a pair of determined fingers right over her bundle of nerves.
With my other hand, I grip her hip tight. I thrust inside her repeatedly, dragging the head of my cock right over that sensitive spot that has her muscles tensing, shaking.
In moments, a low, feminine groan splits the air.
“Come for me,” I demand. “Come now!”
With another brush and press of my fingers over her clit, she screams. Around us, the audience groans. Several stroke their own cocks…even Del.
Then the rippling walls of her sex contract, tighten, gripping and coaxing me, blotting out all other thoughts. I close my eyes and focus on her. I shout through clenched teeth as I follow her into ecstasy.
More than one groan of satisfaction splits the air within moments. I don’t care. All I know is that underneath me is the woman I refuse to let go of. We’ve seen to business.
Now it is time for the real pleasure—and hopefully, the future—to begin.
Shanna
A pleasure cloud. Heavy limbs, light head. A gentle throb between my legs pulsing as it slowly abates. Alejandro’s embrace provides warmth, even as he grips me as if he’ll never let go. Ah…
I could happily stay here, connected to him. There are reasons I shouldn’t, I know. I just can’t remember them now.
Then Alejandro slips free from my body and breaks my sensual haze. I lift weighty lids to watch him walk past me and snap the curtains shut between us and the audience. Del remains on our side of the drapes, and I’m suddenly conscious of my nudity and the man’s dark eyes on me.
“Keep them the hell out of here,” Alejandro growls in low tones.
Del claps his gaze on his buddy, now buttoning his pants and wearing a sly smile. “You got it. Tomorrow?”
Alejandro smiles. “Maybe the day after.”
What are they talking about? It should be obvious, but my brain is so clouded by satisfaction that thinking is too much effort.
Del’s laugh barely registers when Alejandro turns and stalks across the floor to me. In seconds, he uncuffs one of my wrists, grabs me up in his arms, and heads for the stage door.
“What…? Where are you?—?”
“Alone.” He says the word like a vow. “No one except you and me, being us together.”
I shake my head. “But the blackmailer?—”
“If he was here tonight, he already got what he came for. Del will call me if they captured something on the security cameras. The rest of the night is about us.”
“But you said we'd stay all night, if necessary.”
He stops. “Is that what you want, for me to fuck you again for an audience? Shall we invite more people in this time?”
Sarcasm. Anger. And I understand. Something inside me rejects the notion of more audience time, too. “No.”
“Good. I’m done sharing you with other hungry male eyes. For the rest of the night, you’re mine.”