King's Pleasure

Still, there was a certain satisfaction watching them lose their cool when she got her hips dipping and rolling and her ass popping and backing up. She didn’t mind them fantasizing and spitting weak game in her ear. It was good to know that she still had it like that. Lord knew DeShawn had stopped appreciating her and started taking her for granted.

How much longer was she going to put up with it? How much longer was just being his good girl—the one he always relied on to welcome him back with open arms—going to last?

Hell, did she even love him anymore?

Eyes closed, Leigh allowed herself to become one with the music. Her limbs flowed with the melody, while her hips rocked to the hard-driving bass. It wasn’t long before she was turning herself on. She rolled her hands across the top of her chest, then let them flow over her breasts, glide down her hard-earned abs, and then rolled over her hips.

Soon, she forgot about the number of men crowding her space, trying to rock a two-step or the whack-ass “lean back” that didn’t require them to even move their feet. Seriously, if you can’t keep up, then step the hell aside. Not until she could feel the first beads of sweat rolling down her face did she flutter her long lashes open. When she did the sexiest pair of eyes she’d ever seen watched her from across the room.

Dark.

Chocolate.

Hypnotic.

Everything from her toes to her nipples tingled, especially when her gaze expanded to take in the magnificent specimen those eyes belonged to. Good Lord. Am I dreaming? The man was as solid as an African warrior ready to wrestle a lion with his bare hands. The thought of wrestling with him butt-naked with a bottle of baby oil crossed her mind, and then a heat wave flushed her entire body. Maybe tonight she didn’t have to be such a good girl.

Judging by the look in his eyes, her mysterious stranger was thinking the same thing. The question now was what type of games were they going to play before they answered the call of their bodies?

Their gazes still locked from across the room, Leigh rocked her hips and touched her body in a way that one would have to be blind, crippled or crazy not to know what time it was. She tossed her thick hair back, giving him a sneak preview of what she looked like in the throes of passion.

Her smile slid wider as his gaze roamed over every inch of her body. It wasn’t long before the rest of the crowd melted away while she concentrated on giving him his own private dance. It was a tall order, seeing as how she was in a house full of professional strippers and weekend party girls.

She turned, giving her mysterious gawker a backside view of what she was working with. While she worked her hips and jiggled her ass, she still felt her future lover’s gaze caressing her frame. The image of them grinding together in a heated fury made her tits hard as rocks and her bikini bottoms as wet as if she’d just stepped out of the ocean.

Leigh turned to see his face again just as he said something to the dude next to him holding up the bar, before he finally stalked toward her.

He even walked like a man among boys. His gait, long, smooth and sexy as hell, made her knees knock. But it was those dark, penetrating eyes that hypnotized her.

She needed him—wanted him.

When he was just halfway through the crowd, her body caught fire. She was more than willing to bet that nibbling on all that chocolate could send a woman into a diabetic coma. Then again, if a girl’s gotta go, she may as well go out with a smile on her face.

Five feet away— Damn, it didn’t make any sense for a man to be that fine.

Four feet away— Wouldn’t it be hot if he just ripped her clothes off right there in the middle of a crowded room?

Three feet away— Would anyone notice or care if they went at in the middle of the floor like it was the wild kingdom?

Two feet away— If he so much as touched her, she was sure her bikini bottoms were going to be hit with a tsunami of honey.

One foot— His large hand snaked out across her waist and just as expected, her clit exploded and her knees buckled. Luckily for her, she had his broad chest to fall back against while she tried to catch her breath. Damn—a one-touch orgasm. Who would’ve ever thought?

As an added surprise, her future lover was not a simple two-step brother with a bump-and-grind routine. He had skillz—yes, with a Z. He rocked, dipped and moved like he was born on the dance floor. Leigh had long subscribed to the notion that how a man danced was directly correlated with how he performed beneath the sheets.

It wasn’t long before they were moving as one and definitely scorching up the designated dance floor. While a few beads of sweat rolled down her hairline, Mr. Sexy-As-Hell remained calm, cool and dry. It wasn’t long before she wondered if she could keep up with him—on the dance floor and between the sheets.

One thing was for sure, she wouldn’t mind finding out.

For three songs, their bodies moved and grooved against each other in ways that were more than just suggestive—they were scandalous. Leigh’s breasts ached to the point that they were painful and her heart dropped so low that she was convinced that it was now pounding away inside her clit.

Another two songs later and they were still at it, with hardly an inch between them—at times exchanging the same breath whenever her breasts and his chest grazed each other.

A few times Leigh caught his gaze dropping to her nipples. A second later, his tongue would roll across his lips, making them glisten. Never in her life had she ever had to suppress the urge to kiss a complete stranger. But here she was, drawing on every ounce of willpower.

And losing.

Before she could question what she was doing, let alone why she was doing it, she slid her arms up his broad chest and then looped them around his neck. From there, gravity took its course, and her future lover lowered his head.

Please, Lord, let him know how to kiss. If Leigh had a dime for every good-looking brother she’d encountered since her training-bra days that thought kissing somehow involved licking her nose or chomping on her tongue, she’d be as rich as Oprah.

So with her toes and fingers crossed, she waited anxiously for his luscious-looking lips to touch down. Please, please, Lord.

Turns out God still answered prayers.

The instant their lips touched, something akin to a heat wave blazed through Leigh’s entire body and melted every thought right out of her head. With something this hot, reflex should have interceded and made her jump back from the flames. Instead, the exact opposite happened. She pressed her body closer—like she wanted to be consumed by him. It was maddening.

Once she got used to the fire, she noticed other things about him. Not only were his lips pillowy soft, but his mouth was as wicked as his rhythmic hips. What his tongue was doing with hers was downright pornographic—and she was the star.

Thank you, Lord!

Leigh lost her sense of time and space while her body temperature skyrocketed. She didn’t care that her lungs were on the brink of collapse because of lack of oxygen. As far as she was concerned, collapsing in his arms wasn’t such a bad way to go. Even as she felt his lips pull away, it didn’t stop her from conjuring up a vision of coasting through imaginary clouds. Quite simply, it was the best kiss she’d ever had.

Period.

After a few gulps of oxygen, she was finally able to reboot her system and open her eyes—but only to be sucked back into this man’s hypnotic gaze. Damn. Who in the hell is this guy? Just as one voice asked the question, there was another part of her that wondered if half the thrill was in not knowing.

So when Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Handsome opened his mouth to speak, Leigh quickly pressed a finger against his lips. “Shhh. I don’t want to know your name or your zodiac sign. I just want us to go someplace where you can just screw my brains out.”

His handsome features barely registered surprise before he smiled and said, “I think I can handle that.”

Chapter 3

Either it was Jeremy’s birthday or he’d died and gone to heaven. Frankly, if this was a sample of heaven’s delights, he hoped that no one would mourn his passing. As far as he was concerned, he was definitely about to be in a better place. His Coke-bottle-curved diva took him by the hand and led him through the bumping and grinding crowd without another word.

Bounce.

Jiggle.

Wiggle.

“Damn.” He twisted his face at the woman’s backside view and felt his erection stretch a few more inches down his leg. He was the luckiest son of a bitch walking and he knew it.

Bounce.

Jiggle.

Wiggle.