Kinky Claus (7 page)

Mesmerized, he watched her slow retreat. When she reached the top again, she suctioned hard enough he swore he felt it all the way down to his cock. He must have made a sound because she looked up and gave him the naughtiest smile.

Goddayum.

The ladies gave an approving cheer and clapped Marissa on. She swirled her tongue on the flat, blunt end and bobbed her head again, over and over, really getting into it. She even
sounded
like she was enjoying it. Her continued
Mmmms
and
Ahhhhhs
were getting to him. Big time. If she kept up her porntastic candy sucking for too much longer his damn briefs wouldn’t be able to contain him.

Carefully removing the stick from her grip, he scooted forward, taking her with him. He shoved the candy cane back into his pocket and cupped his hands under her butt. “Hold on to me.”

“Wha—” The rest of whatever she’d been about to say broke off on a gasp as he straightened and flipped her so she was belly-to-belly with him. After tucking her legs around his waist, he slid his hands to her hips and performed the crowd-pleasing standing dirty dry hump. He swore Marissa’s eyes were about to pop from their sockets. If his balls weren’t on the verge of turning permanently blue, he might have chuckled at her expression. He’d performed this move too many times to count, but he’d never had to deal with his body’s uncontrollable response to the woman in his arms. With each grind of his pelvis against hers he sank deeper into the fantasy of being tangled up naked with her. Sweat-slicked skin slip-sliding together. Her nails digging into his shoulders and her thin, reedy sighs slowly escalating into cries of ecstasy. Her pussy clinging to his shaft, vising tighter and tighter before she broke completely apart around him.

A carnal wave of hunger pulling him beneath the undertow, he spun and lowered her onto the chair, letting her legs slide down his while he unbuttoned his Santa jacket. Shrugging the velvet garment from his shoulders, he locked stares with her. Her hands lifted and stroked his chest. The feather light, hesitant brush of her fingertips over his skin was tantalizing beyond anything he’d conjured in his wildest dreams. He wanted her touch. Everywhere.

As if she’d read his mind, she ghosted her hands lower, her nails grazing his abs and making him quiver. He let the jacket fall from his arms and then hooked his thumbs in his suspenders. Rather than wrench them off, he slowly snaked the straps down his arms as he undulated his hips. Her fingers slipped lower, following the rhythmic beat of his body. Despite the enthusiasm of the women behind him, this dance was all for Marissa. She was his solitary focus. There might as well be no one else in the room.

Her gaze glued to a spot just below his navel, she traced the V lines disappearing into his waistband. She licked her lips, and he damn near busted a nut right then and there. He dipped his torso, riding her hands with a low, lazy corkscrewing motion. Straddling her legs, he unsnapped the suspenders before guiding her fingers to the top Velcro closures on his pants. Gripping the back of the chair, he swiveled his hips to the left, loosening the fastenings on that side first. He reversed the motion, and the Velcro parted on the right. Marissa curled her fingers tight around his pants when they started to sag and slip. He tossed her a wink and twisted upward with a hard thrust. The fabric ripped away from him with a
swoosh
, and the ladies went crazy.

Stepping out of the remnants of his pants, he whisked off his Santa hat. The music segued into the sexy, bluesy number that finished out his set, and he returned to his position in front of Marissa. Planting his palms on her thighs, he widened them and slowly worked his way upward with a sinuous rolling glide of his body along hers. By the time he straddled her lap she was trembling. Sliding the hat behind her head, he pulled her toward him, his sight fixed to her mouth. Her lips parted on a shaky breath.

He never kissed a woman on stage. But Marissa wasn’t just any woman. She was the inspiration for every one of his fantasies and the sole cause for the burning need fueling his system. Without giving it another thought, he tugged her the last half inch necessary to seal their lips together. He couldn’t linger on the kiss, but that made it no less brain-frying and erotic. He nipped her bottom lip and she murmured him name, providing him the perfect opportunity to suck on her tongue. She shuddered and submitted with a wispy sigh that stoked the primal alpha in him.  He re-angled his head, savoring her addictive sweetness as their tongues glided together. Her hands spanned his ribcage, her fingertips flirting over his skin in an exploring touch that sent desperate need crashing through every cell in his body. Before he gave in to the urge to sweep her offstage and into the first private area they could find, he stole another quick, heated taste of her and shoved to his feet, his heart pounding.

Marissa stared at him, her pupils dilated and her expression dazed.

Jack’s earlier warning blared in Trig’s head.
“Whatever you’re thinking, don’t do it.”

Too late. The point of no return was already several miles behind him. There was no damn way he could walk away from Marissa now.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Her knees wobbly, Marissa rushed toward her car. Oh God. What
was
that? She’d never felt so...insanely aroused and alive from a kiss. And the fact that Trig was the one who kept turning her inside out like this? Nothing good could come of it. She was absolutely playing with fire here.

What in the world had possessed her to go into that place? It was as if an alien had taken possession of her body this past week. A weird, horny alien who hired male escorts and fondled strippers.

Corking her hysterical laugh, she slid to a halt in the slushy snow and fumbled around in her purse for her keys. This is what she got for hightailing it out of the club like a damn ninny. But there was no way she could continue sitting at that table, reliving every second of Trig’s kiss over and over while all those crazy women hooted, shouted, and flung money at the dancers.

Like you weren’t the craziest of them all.
Jeez Louise. Sucking off a candy cane. That was something Jane would do. Not her.

But she did do it. And furthermore, she
liked
it. Holy crap. If she kept this up, she was going to need intensive therapy. And probably a Twelve Step program for killing this insane draw she had toward Trig.
Shaking her head, she located her keys and hit the lock release.

“Marissa.”

She jumped at the nearness of Trig’s husky baritone. He was the last person she could handle seeing right now. Not when her mind was spinning and every cell in her body tingled with the memory of his touch. Digging her fingernails into her palm, she turned toward him and attempted to manufacture a breezy tone. “Hey.”

He was considerably more dressed than the last time she’d seen him. He’d bundled up in a flannel shirt and leather jacket. And she was fairly certain that his jeans didn’t come with the neat trick of ripping off of him with a strategic tug.

She really needed to stop picturing him tearing his clothes off. Or her doing it for him.

He glanced at the keys dangling from her fingertips. “You’re not leaving, are you?”

“Yeah, I only intended to stop by, and...” Gusting a weary breath, she unclenched her fist. “The truth is I don’t know what I was doing in there. I shouldn’t have come.”

He moved in closer, revealing the dark intensity in his eyes. “I’m glad you did. Rissa—” He bracketed her face between his hands, his compelling gaze an irresistible magnet. Then again, the same could be said about every component of his being. “I know we have a million reasons not to pursue this. But the thing is, I can’t stop thinking about you.” He pressed his forehead against hers and caressed her cheek. “If this is a mistake, it doesn’t feel like it. Not to me.” Their noses brushed as he lowered his mouth toward hers. The next instant those incredibly skilled lips were coaxing hers open and she yielded with a helpless moan.

The kiss was a deeper exploration this time. Trig put his entire body into it, coaxing her up against the side of her car as his hands snuck inside her coat. He palmed her breasts through her sweater, kneading and massaging until she was dizzy from his kisses and the hot, achy need building deep in her core. She wrapped her arms around him, partly to save herself from slumping but mostly so she could feel the tactile strength in his hard, beautiful body again. He slid his hands to her butt and hiked her up into his arms. Her thighs cradled his hips and he rocked against her in a similar fashion to the simulated sex he’d performed in his routine. Only this time he wasn’t doing it for the benefit of horny women.

Well, maybe
one
horny woman.

Whimpering, she tunneled her fingers through his silky hair and rubbed her pussy up and down along the delicious hard bulge behind his fly. Yes, it was a completely shameful and desperate attempt to gain some friction where she needed it most. But Trig didn’t seem to mind in the least. Groaning, he sucked her tongue before catching her bottom lip between his teeth. She squeezed her legs around him, hugging him tight. He broke their kiss, his breaths harsh and labored. “
Fuck
. I wanna spend all night making you come.”

Her clit tingled, both at his words and the determined set of his features. “What time do you get off work?”

“Midnight.”

Good Lord. “You’re going to make me wait three hours for an orgasm?”

A good deal of the tension dissolved from his face. It wasn’t until that moment that she realized he’d been worried she’d reject him. How insane was that notion?

“I’ll make it worth it.” The boast wasn’t so much cocky as assured. She didn’t doubt he’d deliver on his promise.

Shivering, both from the cold and anticipation, she cuddled into his radiant warmth. “Okay, then I’ll wait up for you.”

He pulled back enough to look in her eyes. “I can’t believe I’m going to risk what you might say to this, but—are you sure? I don’t want you to regret anything that happens between us. So if you still have reservations about being with me...”

She toyed with his hair, fascinated with the way the fine strands curled around her fingers. “I’ll be honest. My head might, but my body doesn’t. I know that isn’t smart, letting my pussy get the final say.”

He grinned. “Hm, so your little honey pot calls all the shots, eh?”

“Um, did you seriously just say honey pot?”

“Yeah, I figured I’d save
sweet snatch
for when I’m deep inside you. Less likely to offend if you’re coming your brains out.”

She snorted. “And here I was just admiring your lack of cockiness.”

“You don’t have to worry about me lacking in that department.” He ground against her suggestively and snuck another kiss before easing her back onto her feet. “I might be able to convince one of the guys to cover my last routine. If so, I’ll be at your place no later than eleven.”

“And deprive those women of the original Kinky Claus? I feel so greedy.” She tiptoed her fingertips along the buttons of his shirt. “Any chance you’ll bring your giant candy cane tonight?”

“Never fear, naughty girl, I’ll have something bigger and tastier for you to suck.”

“Mm, lucky me.”

“That’s supposed to be my line.” He swooped in for one final kiss and patted her ass. “See you soon.”

Limp as a noddle, she sagged against her car door and watched him lope toward the rear of the club. Any minute now she expected to wake up and discover the last hour had been a fantastical dream. The cold began to seep into her bones, making her teeth chatter and snapping her back to reality. Shivering uncontrollably, she ducked inside her vehicle.

By the time she pulled into her driveway twenty minutes later, warmth had finally returned, along with a healthy dose of uncertainty. Trig—owner of the damn finest body on the planet—was about to see her naked. Oh crapola. Okay, deep breaths. Surely she could lose fifteen pounds before he got here, right?

Panic setting in, she hoofed it to the porch and jammed the key into the lock. She stumbled inside the house and wrestled out of her coat. On the bright side, Trig
had
insisted he liked a woman with curves. She certainly wouldn’t disappoint him in that department. Maybe if she put on something that really emphasized her boobs he’d be too distracted to notice the few extra inches she’d packed on her belly thanks to all the holiday treats brought in by her diet-sabotaging coworkers lately.

She hurried to her bedroom and yanked open her dresser’s top drawer. Pawing through her bras and panties, she fished out the couple of teddies she’d splurged on during Victoria Secret’s last big sale. Worrying her bottom lip between her teeth, she inspected her options and settled on the champagne silk and lace number. Now all she had left to do was jump in the shower before Trig arrived. Or she could always wait and see if he wanted to take one with her.

Intrigued by that possibility, she stared at the glass-enclosed stall and imagined getting to run her soapy hands all over Trig’s velvety skin. The visual was so real, it sent a hot flush through her, the sensation coalescing into a heavy ache between her legs. Jeez, if she kept this up she’d have to relieve some of the pressure with one of her vibrators or risk tackling Trig the second he walked through the door.

She stripped and donned her favorite short pink satin robe for the time being. After twisting her hair up with a clip, she padded to the kitchen and poured a much-needed glass of wine. She carried it with her to the living room and stopped to plug in the Christmas tree lights before curling up on the couch and turning on the tube. A holiday special managed to hold her attention for roughly an hour before nerves and anticipation got the better of her again. Flicking off the set, she stared at the small square section of the bay window not blocked by the tree. Who knows how long she sat there, fixating on that spot and butterflies making a mosh pit of her stomach, before the blinding beam of headlights flashed across the pane.

Her pulse revved into supersonic speed. She skipped her focus to the door. Should she meet him there, or would that look totally desperate? Maybe she should have showered before he got here. Concerned, she inched back the sleeve of her robe and sniffed. Whew. Coast was clear.

The doorbell rang, and she jumped. Oh for Pete’s sake. It wasn’t like she hadn’t known he was there. Mutely scolding her trigger-happy nerves—perfect pun if ever there was one—she shoved up from the couch cushion and dragged in a steadying breath. Cinching her belt, she walked to the door and peeked through the peephole to verify it was Trig. Unless he had an identical twin or a gorgeous Doppelganger, it was definitely him. He stood on the porch, a pensive expression etched into his features. He removed his hand from his pocket and smoothed it through his hair.

She blinked. Wow. Was he nervous too? Farfetched as the notion likely was, it still eased a fraction of her stress. She released the deadbolt and cracked open the door. The overpowering heat in Trig’s gaze as it swept her from head to toe instantly banished her lingering nervousness. She hooked her fingers in his belt loops and tugged him toward her. He required no further invitation than that, apparently.

Nudging the door closed behind him with his foot, he pulled her into his arms. Their mouths crashed together in a hungry collision of mutual need and unrestrained craving. He walked her backwards into the living room, never once removing his lips from hers as he slipped the robe from her shoulders. His knuckles grazed the outer swells of her breasts before he palmed their full weight. Swallowing her gasp, he swirled the pads of his fingers across her nipples. His tongue danced with the tip of hers, a light enticing graze, and then he thrust deeper, cranking up the hot carnality of the kiss until she swore her bones would liquefy.

She whimpered and he pulled back to look down at her. The intense fire in his eyes threatened to burn her alive. “Goddamn. You are a walking wet dream, sweetheart.” He flexed his fingers, squeezing her breasts together as he lowered his head and flicked his tongue over the stiffened crest of her nipple. With a wet, luxurious glide, he laved the peak before sucking it into his mouth and drawing it firm against his tongue. She felt the sensation all the way to her clit. A persistent throb beat in her core and she writhed against Trig restlessly.

As if he were completely unconcerned with the torture he was inflicting on her, he slid his mouth to her other breast and treated it to the same meticulous exploration he’d given to its mate. She slid trembling fingers through his hair and he glanced up at her, the smokiness in his stare searing along her already ragged nerve endings. Straightening, he shrugged his jacket off and let it drop to the carpet. She battled to free the buttons on his shirt. When they both grew too impatient with the frustrating closures, he yanked the garment off over his head and tossed that aside too.

She smoothed her hands over the delicious contours of his sculpted pecs and washboard abs before pressing up against his chest and wrapping her arms around his neck. Their tongues tangled in another mating dance as he slid his palms underneath the hem of her robe and squeezed her naked ass.

His appreciative groan rumbled from the depths of his chest. “You’re not wearing any panties. Halleluiah.”

She giggled. “I take it you approve?”

“Fuck yeah. I’m always a huge fan of easier access.” He sealed his point by delving his hand lower between her legs and cupping her pussy. They both moaned at the brush of his fingers along her slick folds. “Damn, baby, you are dripping.”

“I might be a tad excited,” she informed him breathlessly.

“I wanna see how wet you are for me.” He led her to the couch and as soon as she took a seat, hunkered to his knees in front of her. Licking his lips, he freed the knot on her robe and parted the material. She shivered at the satiny slither of the fabric along her thighs, as well as the focused way Trig gazed at her pussy when he coaxed her legs open. Any worries she’d harbored of him being turned off by the few extra inches she carried around her waistline floated into the ether. If he noticed, he sure didn’t seem to care. So why should she?

He glossed his fingertips through her wetness and circled her clit with his thumb. “Pretty.”

Her breath snared in her throat and she wiggled against the cushion.

“Mm, sensitive. Just the way I like.” He scooted her closer to the edge of the couch and tucked her legs over his broad shoulders. The first teasing flicker of his tongue on her clit made her hips jerk. He slipped his hands under her butt and drew her back to him, holding her firmly as his mouth wrecked its unrelenting devastation. She’d had a good inkling he’d know his way around a pussy, but nothing had prepared her for just how amazing his oral skills were. Granted, she didn’t have a ton of past lovers to base her comparisons on, but
holy hell
, Trig made them all look like amateurs. For starters, he ate her pussy like he was sitting down to a gourmet feast he intended to savor all night long. There was no impatient or uncomfortable tongue jabbing. No rush to move to the next course. Just complete focus on her pleasure.