As I move toward the glass that overlooks the lower level of the club, I keep telling myself this is all part of the plan. This is me getting close to him, weaving my way into his life and his friendships with the other guys. If I have to keep lying to myself in order to believe it, I will. I’ll do it over and over again because when I’m with Baz, he makes me feel things I shouldn’t. I can’t tell yet if it’s just the great sex or something more, but I don’t want to analyze it any further.
“Take your underwear off, dirty girl.” The command sends a thrill down my spine. It settles at the base, tingling as though it has a mind of its own. I follow his directions and slide the red scrap of material down my legs. I rest my back against the glass, the cool window like a shock to my overheated skin.
Baz stands there watching me for a beat. His eyes move from the red material dangling from my hand to the bare apex between my thighs. He closes the distance between us, and my eyes are riveted on the sight of the thick, formidable bulge dying to rip through his slacks. He looks devastatingly handsome in his suit. I want to tear it off him yet keep it on for pure aesthetic enjoyment in equal measure.
With my damp underwear clasped in my trembling hand, I wait for his next request, or I should say demand. He splays open my palm, and with deft fingers, he takes my underwear, spreading them out in his large hand. His eyes widen and go impossibly dark when he feels how damp the material is. The dark patch is unmistakable, and the urge to dip my head in embarrassment is all-consuming.
“Fuck, Mackenzie,” he hisses. “Your pussy must be dripping.”
I trap my bottom lip between my teeth and bite down. Hard. Just to prevent myself from releasing an embarrassing moan.
“Now, dirty girl, this next question is all you. Do you want me to fuck you and let everyone else hear? Or do you want to remain quiet?”
My brows dip. I’m not sure how to answer that.
“If you want to remain quiet, I can stuff these”—he gestures to the panties balled in his fist—“in your mouth while I fuck you. Which will it be?”
My legs snap together in anticipation, and I slap my palm against the glass behind me for support.
Fuck me.
Why does the thought of being gagged with wet panties make me want to come?
“The panties,” I whisper, mortified that that’s what I want.
Baz pauses, likely struck with surprise. He rubs his thumb over his plump bottom lip in contemplation as he watches me. That dark smirk rapidly steals across his features, making me weak in the knees.
He leans into me, crowding my space, filling the very air I breathe with him. “Say it again.”
“Fuck me with the panties. In my mouth.”
He grins down at me. “Good girl.”
Baz possessively places his palm on my stomach and applies subtle pressure to press me fully up against the glass. He trails his other hand between my thighs and pushes my dress over my hips, exposing my center.
“Open that pretty mouth for me.” When I do, he slips the material inside and watches me with heat in his eyes. “So fucking sexy.”
The globes of my cheeks are smothered against the glass, and a thrill shoots down my spine at the thought of someone looking up. What would they see? Would it turn them on?
Baz drops to his haunches and slides his palms up my thighs, the pads of his fingers squeezing and digging into my skin as he goes. His touch is like a blazing trail of fire, and I’m burning. Every vital organ is on fire with what this man is doing to me. He hooks one of my legs over his shoulder, aligning his eyes perfectly with my soaked center.
“I haven’t stopped thinking about fucking this pussy with my tongue since last night.” He caresses my lips with reverence and continues to stare at my pussy with a hunger I feel tugging deep in my gut. It’s pulling at my core, and I’m dying to feel his mouth on me again.
He doesn’t disappoint.
Baz licks with the flat of his tongue straight up my center, and I slam my head back against the glass and moan around the material in my mouth. My breath catches, and my hips arch forward toward his skilled tongue. Baz eats me like a man starved. His tongue soothes and spears; he laves and sucks. It’s like a split personality of sexuality and susceptibility inside me.
I buck against the glass. My throaty whimpers are hardly muffled by my underwear, and my heart feels as if it’s trying to burst out of my chest. Frissons of electricity fire in my veins as he sucks on my clit. He flutters his tongue over the sensitive bundle of nerves and slides his fingers through my folds, dipping the tip into the wetness sliding down the underside of my ass and along my thigh.
When he slips his fingers inside me, my hands slide into his perfect fucking hair, and my hips grind all over his face as I chase the orgasm building inside me. My core clenches, my nipples are throbbing, and my channel gapes, begging for more. When he adds a third finger and sucks my clit into his mouth as if it’s a damn piece of candy, I go off like a bottle rocket. My garbled moan echoes around us as he licks my pussy clean of my arousal.
I’m still trying to blink past the kaleidoscope of colors stealing my vision when he pushes to his feet and swoops down, yanking the panties from my mouth and taking my lips with his. He slides his tongue over mine, warring with me, so I can taste myself on him. It has me clasping his shoulders and clinging to him for another orgasm.
Our eyes meet in an intense, lust-filled moment, and I realize I’ve never noticed the flecks of green in his eyes. The green almost threatens to consume the blue.
Slowly, he places his thumb on my chin, nudging my jaw open. His lips part, his eyes dialting as he stuffs my panties back inside my mouth.
“Turn around,” he growls, not even waiting for me to oblige. He spins me so my stomach is to the glass, and I’m facing the dance floor below. He slides the top of my dress down my body to expose my tits. He presses me up against the glass and stares at our reflection. I look sex crazed. My full breasts are squished against the cool window, my hair is wild, and my cheeks are flushed from my orgasm. And Baz looks dark and utterly delectable. His tongue juts out, wetting his plump lower lip, and I almost dissolve into a puddle.
Watching our reflections, I see Baz trail his fingers up and down my spine, around my shoulders, settling on the tops of my breasts all while he frees himself from his slacks.
“Imagine all of them down there looking up at you,” he bends down near my ear to whisper. One of his fingers flicks my nipple, and I choke, my core clenching sharply with the sensation. “Just imagine them seeing your gorgeous tits pressed up against the glass,” he breathes seductively as he palms my tit, barely fitting it in his hand. He rolls my nipple. Pinching and soothing. Rough and soft. It’s driving me insane. “Imagine them watching you moan my name while I fuck you. They’re going to wish it was them buried so deep inside this cunt they can’t even see straight.”
“Baz.” My muffled beg echoes around us as I press my ass against his erection prodding my backside.
As if his name falling from my lips was all the confirmation he needed, Baz continues to roughly palm my breast while the other hand settles on my hip as he aligns himself. He doesn’t wait any longer. He slides into me with no resistance and fucks me mercilessly against the glass. His strokes are long and hard. He pulls almost all the way out before he buries himself back inside me, pounding me into the glass. My hipbones smack against the cool, hard surface, and my breaths fog up the glass, and still, with my underwear muffling my words, I beg him not to stop.