Free StripperwithSpice by Afton Locke Page B

torment me for the
rest of my life.
    I must have this man.
    The sound of my pants unzipping fills me with liquid heat.
He shoves my jeans down to my knees, lifts me, as if I’m a toy and places me on
the bed. Then he stands to the side of it and burns me with his smoldering,
dark gaze. I look down, wondering what he’s staring at.
    “That thong is even sexier than your bra. I love the way the
black-and-gold lace looks across your pussy.”
    He unbuttons the rest of my blouse, sliding the silky halves
across my torso. When he traces his fingers down my bare belly, I shiver with
pleasure so hard the king-sized bed squeaks. Sighing, I melt into the mattress
and row of soft, white pillows behind my head where Carlos’ mesquite scent
blends with freshly laundered cotton.
    He chucks off his vest and lets it drop on the floor, the
sound barely audible against the carpet. The part of me that would rush to hang
it in the closet is strangely absent. I must have the same effect on him. A
door closes softly down the hall—too far away to matter.
    While he leans over me, close enough to brush my face with
his quick breaths, I touch him too, letting my fingers flow over the hills and
valleys of his warm, muscled flesh. Is this a biceps or a deltoid? Although the
formal names for them escape me, they all feel wonderful.
    I even stroke the pad of my forefinger across the tattoos
that fascinated me from the beginning. Their swirling, black shapes make him
look raw and a little dangerous. I’d love to stare at them while he fucks me.
    If I go through with this, it’ll be the wildest thing I’ve
ever done.
    I watch as his fingers skate over the triangle of lace at
the apex of my thighs and tug it aside, revealing the thin strip of hair above
my bare clit. Cool air grazes my exposed flesh. The sensation of my denim jeans
bunched around my knees makes me feel naughty, as if we’ve grabbed a quickie on
the elevator.
    “You’re shaved.” A slow smile spreads across his face. “I
really like that.”
    Now I realize I shaved myself for this moment. Seeing the
raw lust on his face makes all the cursing and wrestling I did with that razor
worth it.
    “I can’t decide which I want more, to fuck you or run my
tongue all over that bare pussy.”
    The thought of his mouth on me tightens my swollen labia. My
breath suspends in my chest when he slides a fingertip over my wet clit and
into the furled lips below. His finger disappears to the knuckle as the air
around us fills with the scent of my need. I close my eyes, thrusting against
his slow, sensual strokes.
    “I wish I had enough time to give you multiple orgasms,” he
says, sliding his finger ever deeper.
    I moan, incapable of speech. When he pulls off my shoes,
then pants the rest of the way and leaves them at the foot of the bed in a
heap, my bare thighs tremble and splay open. He takes off his pants too,
revealing his black briefs again. I admire how the clingy fabric hugs the ridge
of his cock and even outlines the head.
    My cunt has been burning with outrage since he stopped touching
me. His breath hisses when I palm his underwear, cupping his balls and moving
over the length of his shaft. He shoves down the briefs low enough to expose
his cock.
    It’s just as beautiful as the rest of him as it points
toward me. He’s shaved too, revealing every bit of rigid, tan flesh and high,
tight balls. He’s the perfect size for me and the flared head looks as if it’s
been sculpted by the same artist who created his muscles.
    The mesquite scent that’s been teasing me all night combines
with the aroma of his musky arousal in a powerful mixture that hardens my clit
into a granite pebble. I grip his shaft and stroke it. My efforts redden the
head and produce a clear drop of fluid on the tip. The muscles tighten all over
his body. I know if I touch him too much, he’ll explode. When he does, I want
it to be inside me.
    “This is your last chance to say no, Janice.” His voice is
softer