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  He was long and hard and beautifully made. She wanted to take him in her mouth, run her tongue down that one vein on the underside…lick the balls she knew were heavy with his seed.

  He saw where she was looking. "Change of heart?"

  Her head jerked up. Saw an unexpected vulnerability, along with a rock-hard determination not to lose.

  The vulnerability nearly got her.

  Don't you dare fall for him.

  Not. A. Chance. "You wish."

  She licked her tongue over his sinfully gorgeous mouth, then leaned back. Swirled her bare pussy lips over the head of his cock, anointing him with the juices of strangers. She unbuttoned her blouse the rest of the way and popped the clasp of her bra, baring her breasts to him.

  He twirled his tongue over one nipple, then the other...

  Then he latched on, sucking her into his mouth as she lowered herself onto him.

  She was used and sore and half-crazy with wanting him. She started coming immediately, riding him hard as he bent her back over his arm and suckled her while driving into her like a man possessed.

  She opened her eyes for a second and saw her two friends of the evening standing in front of the window, hard-again dicks in their hands, eyes glazed with lust.

  Her pussy clenched in answering heat, and she drove her fingers into the hair of the man who played The Game better than she'd ever fantasized, rising on her haunches to increase the driving impact of the cock that he was rotating inside her to devastating effect.

  Before her eyes closed, she managed a smile and a swirl of tongue over her lips as she winked at the two who were already coming again, semen spilling over their fingers as they couldn't take their eyes off her and what she was doing.

  Then she gripped the broad shoulders of the man who was so willing to indulge her fantasies—and rode him for all she was worth.

  They came in a screaming blaze, all light and white-hot glory.

  And when she could finally manage to open her eyes...

  They were alone.

  Neither of them spoke for a few moments. The windows steamed up with the force of the heat they'd generated.

  Their gazes locked.

  "Still want to go dancing, darlin'?" he asked.

  She smiled and shook her head. "I think I'm toast."

  He grinned. Slid his hand between her legs and swirled his fingers in their mingled juices, then teased her mouth open so that she would suck his fingers clean. With a tortured moan, she rubbed her pussy over him as she licked them one by one.

  "Positive we're finished for the night, babe?"

  However spent she thought she was, a little sizzle began to rise inside her, and she wanted him again. "Got something else in mind?"

  "Always." His lids were heavy, his smile a satyr's.

  But whatever they would do, she knew that at some point, he would take her home and disappear, her elusive lover. And she never knew when he would be back.

  They made no promises, and that was the beauty of it. She was coming to like surprises.

  She smiled, already wondering what next time would bring.

  Danielle Martin sat in her plush leather executive chair, staring out the wall of glass in her corner office. Her body was still slightly sore...in very delicious places. A smile curved her lips as her mind ranged back to the night's escapade.

  Her nipples hardened beneath the severe black suit she wore to offset her vivid red hair, ruthlessly cropped to look professional.

  He was good. She closed her eyes. Good was such a pale term for the streaks of vivid color he brought into her life.

  His name was Sam. Or so he said. She'd tried once to filch his wallet while he was in another room. She was increasingly curious about this man who'd dropped into her life out of the blue, no last name, no personal details.

  Only the pursuit of pleasure, which he delivered to her with an intensity unlike anything she'd ever experienced. She was far from virginal, though she'd never been in love. Oh, she'd come close, once in college, one other time a few years ago when she'd flirted with leaving the demands of her high-pressure career.

  In the end, her career had won. She was a strong, smart, exceedingly capable woman who had stepped on many a back on her way to the top. Never with malice, but she'd watched her mother's spirit broken by the life she'd fallen into, and Dani had sworn she would never cede control of her life to anyone else.

  Love made you vulnerable.

  Sex made you feel good.

  Though never before as good as this.

  Damn, she wanted him back. Now.

  Never knowing when he'd show up added a peppery zing to the thrill of The Game, however. Sharpened the appetites.

  But she missed him when he was gone. And not just for the sex.

  Her intercom buzzed. "Ms. Martin? Your ten o'clock is here."

  She squared her shoulders and mentally brushed aside the moment of weakness. She didn't have time for a relationship, anyway. She loved her work, and she was good at it.

  "Send them in."

  Chapter Two

  THREE WEEKS LATER, HER DOORMAN smiled at her as she arrived home after a day so draining that all she wanted was a long soaking bath and a good night's sleep.

  Her phone dinged for an incoming text.

  The Pierre bar at 10. Wear red and stockings with garters. Nothing else.

  She frowned and glanced at her watch. Seven-thirty. Her feet ached, she was starving, she wasn't in the mood. Damn it, why tonight, a Wednesday? It had been a tough week, and she was in the middle of a complex negotiation.

  She should just say no.

  "Problem, Ms. Martin?"

  She blinked. She was standing in the lobby, staring into space. "Not at all, Harold. Have a good evening."

  "You, too, ma'am."

  She would wait to make her decision until she'd had time to decompress.

  In the elevator she leaned back against the wall and closed her eyes, relishing the time alone.

  A bite to eat. That bath.

  Then she would decide.

  But, damn it, her pussy was already damp.

  October was too chilly for her red halter dress, especially with nothing beneath it, so she'd draped a pashmina over her shoulders, one in a brilliant mix of colors, predominantly the same scarlet as her dress.

  When she walked in, heads turned as she hesitated inside the door. She didn't see him there, and her ire stirred just a little. He might have been lounging around all day, but she'd worked hard.

  Then he rose from a circular booth far in the back. God, he was gorgeous, and that unfailingly warm smile welcomed her. He crossed to meet her and escort her back, a gentleman as always, solicitous and congenial, the perfect companion.

  "You seem tired."

  She blinked. Never once had he made such a personal comment. For a second, she wanted to invite him back to her apartment and suggest they call off The Game for a night. Curl up on the couch and—

  No. That could be disastrous. They were about sex, only sex.

  "I'm perfectly fine."

  He scanned her. "That you definitely are. May I take your shawl?" He gestured to the leather booth. "Your drink just arrived." He leaned in. "Flip up your skirt. I want your bare ass on the leather."

  And just like that she was wet again.

  He grinned, slow and wicked. "Yeah. You'll leave a wet spot. Nice nipples, by the way."

  The chiffon halter bodice widened down from her shoulder straps to cover her breasts in front, but only barely. In the right light, it was see-through.

  The back of the dress dipped to the dimples above her ass, while the skirt flared from the hip to swirl with every step.

  And to provide easy access.

  "Thank you." She cast a lazy perusal down the front of his body as he pulled the table out so that she could get closer to the center of the booth without trying to slide a wet pussy over leather. "Nice hard-on."

  A slashing grin. "My perpetual state around you." He pushe
d the table back in place and settled next to her. "So how was your day?" He lifted his own drink with one hand as the other dipped beneath the tablecloth and began pulling up her skirt to bare her.

  She picked up her drink and took a healthy swallow. When his middle finger slid between her nether lips, heat flashed through the center of her body.

  She crossed her legs and trapped him.

  He lifted his drink in salute.

  Then curled his finger inside her.

  She nearly doubled over from the instant climax. "You think you're really bad, don't you?"

  "Honey, we both know the only really bad person at this table is you."

  All her exhaustion fled at the mischief in his eyes.

  She licked her lips, then slid her hand over his thigh and onto the very hard cock inside his pants.

  "Option one: over there—" he said in a tone more casual than the slight strain creeping over his features, gesturing with his glass toward the far end of the bar, where the shadows were deeper "—is an empty stool the bartender is holding for you. He will also keep one on either side empty, and I have a room reserved upstairs, should you meet anyone...interesting."

  "Ah. A nice room, I assume?"

  He arched one eyebrow. They both knew he always went first-class. "Nice enough."

  She licked her lips again, slowly. Grazed her fingernails down his shaft as their eyes met. "Still generous enough to share?"

  His eyes sparked hot as they met hers, but danger flared in the depths. "I'm a generous man."

  Would he ever stake his claim?

  She shook her head. Of course she liked this better. She was alone and free, just as she preferred. When a question arose in his eyes, she turned away, perusing the selection of men at the bar and in the room in general. There were interesting prospects.

  But the bartender was the most delicious. Her lips curved. Interesting, indeed.

  "Option two?"

  "Or there's a new swingers club just opened."

  Her pussy tightened around his finger.

  Slowly he withdrew it and held it under his nose, sniffing it with evident pleasure.

  Then he held it up to her mouth and had her lick off her own juices.

  She squirmed on the leather, pangs of hunger making her clench again. She squeezed his cock hard.

  "Ouch," he said mildly, his eyes growing even darker.

  "A new club wouldn't want you only watching."

  She felt his body respond. "Probably not."

  So seldom did he get involved in their scenarios that she still wasn't sure what turned him on besides her exhibiting herself. He never let his control slip, and she liked the idea of his senses being overpowered.

  "The bartender would be disappointed. I promised him a little show over there in the corner."

  She glanced over again. The bartender really was delicious, his pale eyes a striking counterpoint to his mocha skin. Could he be tempted away from his post? Or…

  For a second, she had a vision of herself behind the bar, on her knees sucking off the bartender while he tried to maintain his poise, chatting with patrons...

  She smiled. She'd bet on her excellent cocksucking skills any day.

  She turned to her lover. "I'm fine staying here."

  His gaze sparked, and he settled back on the padded leather, waving a lazy hand. "Do your worst, babe."

  "In a minute." She didn't let go, but freed him from his zipper instead and began stroking.

  He closed his eyes briefly, strain on his features.

  "Oops. Dropped my purse," she said, and dove beneath the tablecloth, sucking him into her mouth in one surge.

  His strangled groan had her smiling around his steely flesh.

  He dug fingers into her hair and dragged her up.

  She licked her lips and smiled.

  "You are an unregenerate cocktease."

  She arched one eyebrow. "Why, thank you."

  Her earlier exhaustion vanished, and she rose, making sure her skirt lingered high above her bare ass in those first few seconds.

  She smiled as she heard him groan, then fluffed the nearly-sheer fabric to release it. Her hands followed the curves and lingered a bit as she took her first step, feeling the soft fabric swish over naked flesh. Knowing that anyone close enough could see through to her bare slit, could skim over the globes of her bottom to the dark cleft between.

  Lazy and slow, she prowled her way to the bar, breasts high, nipples hard, pussy wet. She paused with her hands on the curved wooden edge and waited for the bartender to register her presence.

  It took about two seconds.

  His pale green eyes widened. Generous lips curved as he glanced toward her lover with a small nod, immediately returning to her. "What can I get you?" he said in a smoky baritone.

  She flipped up the back of her skirt and settled on the leather stool, squirming a little to seal her juicy nether lips to the seat. "Something...dark. Maybe a little wicked."

  One dimple in a chiseled café au lait face. A smile that was more than wicked. "Well, I'm your man, sugar."

  She laced her fingers under her chin, leaning forward to brush her aching nipples against the cool wood. "I sure hope so," she purred.

  Thick-lashed eyes went wide and fierce. He cast another glance behind her. "Ah...I don't think..." He managed to shut his mouth. "I'm working."

  "No breaks?"

  Visibly he gulped. Someone down the bar made a request, yet he never once took his gaze off hers. "Real short. And only one."

  "Then it had better count, hadn't it?" She licked one slow circuit around her lips.

  He exhaled. "I think you might be a little high-octane for me, sugar."

  She trailed her gaze down his body, lingering on the impressive flesh straining at his groin. She nipped her lower lip between her teeth, then made the same slow journey back to his face. "I think you might be too modest."

  "Hey! You working here or not?" complained the customer three stools down.

  The bartender yanked his attention away. "Comin'," he said and began drawing a beer. He tucked a bar towel in his waistband to cover his erection and turned away.

  But not before casting one last glance back at her.

  She smiled. Swiveled the stool around a bit, crossing her silky legs with deliberate slowness. Arching her back briefly to allow her scantily-covered breasts to complete the picture of pale thighs and rucked-up skirt she didn't bother to push down.

  Then she turned her back to the room again.

  It didn't take long.

  "Buy you a drink?" The man she could see in the mirror was greedily eyeing her nipples instead of looking at her face.

  Sucker. "I have one on the way, thanks."

  He settled on the stool beside her. "I'll get the next one. Or we can have it upstairs."

  She opened her mouth to tell him no way in hell, but before she could, the bartender returned with a drink. "The lady is waiting on a friend," he said in a cordial but very firm tone, his big hands gripping the other edge of the bar in a display of strength.

  The man frowned. "I only wanted—"

  "What can I get you to take back to your table?" the bartender said so smoothly it was impossible to take offense. Or resist.

  Another quick glance between the two of them. "Jack Black," he muttered and stepped away.

  Her eyes met the bartender's. Thank you, she mouthed.

  He merely cocked a brow, his expression disapproving, as if to say you brought it on yourself.

  She arched one right back and jutted her chin. He was barely more than a kid, and he had some nerve...

  "On the house," he said as he handed the man his drink.

  Somewhat mollified, the man shambled off.

  "I don't need troublemakers in here," the bartender warned her.

  She gave him the icicle look that usually froze her underlings in place.

  He laughed. "You one hellcat, ain't you, sugar?"

  He pissed her off.

  A
nd she wanted in his pants. Wanted to fuck that smug smile off his face. "You'll never know, will you? You have a name?"

  His eyes narrowed. "Dax."

  "Dax?" she laughed. "Is that your hooker name?"

  His jaw hardened. "Your hooker name any better?"

  She jolted. A hooker? That's what he thought she was? "Screw you." She got off the stool. Time for this night to end.

  "Where you goin', Scarlett?"

  Scarlett? Because of her dress or was it an insult? "You'll just have to wonder, won't you?" But instead of heading back to the booth, she made for the ladies' room to cool off.

  She nearly made it when footsteps pounded up behind her. A hand grabbed her wrist and whirled her around, then yanked her into a different door that turned out to be a liquor closet.

  "What are you—"

  Before she could finish, she was jerked against a hard, sweaty body, one hand diving beneath her skirt and roughly gripping her pussy. "I knew it. Knew you were bare-assed naked under there." Then he groaned. "Shit. Baby-smooth cunt. You're killin' me."

  "You—"

  A long finger slid inside her with no warning.

  It didn't matter. She was more than wet.

  "Your cunt is dripping love juices, baby. You want this dick? Like to play with the hired hands, huh?"

  He was doing amazing things with that finger while his thumb played over her clit, and in the darkness, their musky scents mingled with the smoky wood scents of liquor.

  She yanked herself back. "You're working, remember?" And Sam wasn't going to be pleased that he couldn't watch.

  But this was hot. And she did so love the unexpected.

  "Yeah. Better be quick." He whirled her and bent her over a stack of boxes. "Bet you can come fast. I sure as hell know I'm going to."

  "I don't want fast—unh!"

  He had dropped to his knees and buried his face in her ass, his tongue swiping over her pussy, licking up all the juices while his big hands wrapped around her thighs and forced her to open wide. He swirled his tongue around her clit, and she couldn't help jutting her ass toward him, the ancient posture of submissive female to dominant male. He licked slowly into one fold, sliding upward toward her anus, slicking over just shy of it to paint his tongue down the other side.