Power Play: A Black & White Collection Story (14 page)

Jamie shrugged. “Spending the night with you is a hell of a lot more fun than spending all our money, buying drinks and trying to get into the pants of some stranger.”

“We’d rather buy drinks and try to get into
your
pants,” Trey teased. The image of the three of them in bed together floated through Jamie’s mind and he silently cursed the denim cutting into his rock-hard cock as he was reminded of Trey’s proposition.

“Ha ha. God. I can’t tell you how glad I am I’m not still out there, trying to maneuver my way around the dating scene.” Grace picked up the pitcher and freshened up all their drinks, clearly dismissing their come-ons as harmless teasing. When Jamie considered how often they’d made sexual jokes in the past, he could understand.

“Why aren’t you out there, Grace?” Trey asked. “You’re single, hot, young.”

Grace looked as if she wanted to refute his friend’s words and Jamie felt something inside snap. “And before you call Trey a liar, you might want to consider the consequences.”

Grace and Trey both turned to him, astonished by his sharp tone.

“Consequences?” Grace asked.

“Everything Trey said is true. I’m sick of hearing you put yourself down, angel.”

“I don’t put myself down,” she argued.

“Tell me you weren’t about to tell Trey he needed to get glasses, that you’re old, past your prime or some other stupid shit like that.”

She closed her mouth and he could see he’d hit the nail on the head. His eyes narrowed. “Say anything else like that again tonight—or any night for that matter—and I’ll be forced to punish you.”

His words provoked a nervous laugh from her and he could see Trey’s scowl from the corner of his eyes.

“And just how would
you
punish
me
?”

She stressed the wrong words and Jamie felt his hibernating grizzly bear begin to wake. “I’d pull down those skin-tight jeans of yours, lay you out and bring you to orgasm with just my hand. Over and over.”

Grace flushed and he could see in her eyes she was struggling like mad to read in his face whether he was joking or not. He made sure she saw the veracity of his words. This was no joke.

“I’m pretty sure that’s physically impossible.” Leave it to Grace to find her footing quickly. She took the middle ground, not giving away anything and once more, he was left to try to decide if she was interested or horrified by his comments. Damn woman never made anything easy.

Fuck it. He was going to lay it all out for her tonight. He was tired of holding back because of their age difference, because of Maddie, out of respect for her dead husband, because he was afraid of rejection or losing her friendship. All his excuses faded away as he looked at her lovely face.

“Clearly you’ve never been finger-fucked. I’d have you begging for my cock in minutes,” he replied, leaning closer to her.

She flushed as he added the last statement, but her suddenly shallow breathing and the turgid nipples poking through her blouse answered the most pressing question in his mind. He didn’t have to wonder about her sexual interest in him anymore. Her body was screaming
Yes!
loud and clear. Now he needed to clear the hurdle of her mind.

Trey’s voice broke the silence surrounding them. “You two do realize I’m sitting here and can hear everything you’re saying, right?”

Grace laughed, but it had a breathless quality that sent a fresh surge of blood to Jamie’s cock as he imagined that sound in his bed as he came into her body. “I hope you’re driving tonight, Trey. I think maybe Jamie is a little drunk.”

Jamie reached down and pulled her chair roughly toward his until she was sitting between his outstretched legs. “You had to go there, didn’t you? You couldn’t help yourself. It’s easier to make a joke than admit to yourself that there’s a guy sitting at this table who wants to fuck himself to death inside you.”

Jamie saw Trey move his chair closer to Grace and as he looked away from her astonished face, he saw his friend’s hands resting on Grace’s waist.

“Two guys,” Trey added. “There are two guys who want you, Gracie.”

Grace looked from him to Trey and he could see her mind fighting to process what they were saying. “This is a joke.” The words were weak, almost a question. Hell, he thought they sounded like a plea.

He shook his head. “I’ve wanted you for years, Grace.”

Trey bent forward and as Jamie watched, his friend pressed a soft kiss to the side of her neck. Grace’s eyes drifted shut and he grasped her hands when they began to shake. “Open your eyes and look at me,” Jamie said.

She opened them, looked at him, her gaze full of questions and if he wasn’t mistaken, lust. “How long has it been?” Jamie whispered.

“Too long,” she replied breathlessly.

He suspected—hell, he knew—she hadn’t been with anyone since her husband’s death. They were good enough friends she would have told him if there’d been another man since then.

“Come home with us,” Jamie said, his heart pounding as he spoke the words, the realization of what he was asking dawning hard. He was inviting Grace and Trey to his bed.

Trey’s lips still lingered by her ear and he heard his friend whisper, “Please, Grace. Just tonight. One night.”

She shuddered and Jamie tightened his grip on her hands. For Trey, it would be one night, but Jamie was hoping for much, much longer.

Grace took a deep breath and Jamie sensed her struggle to recover her wits. “I feel like we should talk about this. There needs to be some conversation, some discussion.”

Jamie cut her off. “Do you want to sleep with us?”

“God, yes.”

“Discussion over. Let’s pay the tab and get out of here.”

The decadence of Bourbon Street is beckoning…

French Quarter

© 2010 Lacey Alexander

Hot in the City, Book 1

When prim, proper Liz Marsh suspects her fiancé is cheating on her, she’s almost too embarrassed to hire a P.I. to prove it. And when she gathers her courage and walks into Jack Wade’s office, she has no idea he’ll be the sexiest man she’s ever encountered, nor that his light Cajun accent will make her tingle in all the wrong—or is that right?—places.

After Jack brings her questionable yet undeniably arousing evidence, the only solution is for Liz to get a closer look with her own eyes. And Jack is more than happy to show her everything she’s been missing. One night in the French Quarter’s entrancing red light district, and Liz finds herself caught up in the provocative allure of an erotic new atmosphere and the sudden, urgent need to experience it for herself—with Jack.

Jack’s normally a keep-it-casual guy, but as nights with Liz get hotter, so do Jack’s feelings for the seductive woman in his arms. Bourbon Street decadence beckons and Liz embarks on a sizzling journey of sexual awakening that has her more willing to shed her inhibitions minute by carnal minute. But someone else has noticed her insatiable appetite for sensual adventure, someone who’s just beginning to realize what he’s lost—and who’s determined to tear Jack and Liz apart…

Warning: Contains sizzling hot sex any way she wants it—and a man (or two) more than willing to show her the ropes. Let the good times roll, baby!

Enjoy the following excerpt for
French Quarter:

“Tell me about a lap dance,” she said to Jack. Suddenly, she no longer cared if she didn’t appear experienced. Perhaps, she thought, because she also suddenly wanted to change all that, wanted to get experienced.

“What do you want to know?”

“How much does it cost? How does it work? Is there touching involved?”

He looked taken aback, aroused, before explaining. “You have to ask the stripper how much it costs—usually twenty dollars or so. You pay the girl, then she straddles you and dances. You can’t touch, but she can touch you. They generally don’t, but they can.”

Jack pointed to a nearby table where a young guy was getting a lap dance from a pretty girl with round, sexy breasts and long brown hair—she looked particularly impassioned by her work.

Together, she and Jack watched and Liz could have sworn her body temperature was steadily rising. The gorgeous stripper leaned down over the guy, teasing him, her beaded pink nipples so close to his mouth that Liz wondered how he kept himself from nibbling on them. The stripper’s hips ground into the guy’s crotch, making the spot between Liz’s thighs tingle hotly.

“Have you had them before?” she asked, still studying the intimate act.

Jack stopped watching the lap dance to look at her. She pulled her gaze from the stripper and met his eyes. “Yeah,” he said on a heated breath. “Why?”

“Just curious.” She took a sip of her drink and looked back at him, feeling daring, wanting—for once in her life—to just do something she felt like doing without weighing it, questioning it, or worrying about it. “Do women ever get them?”

His gaze remained steady. “I’ve seen women get ’em on occasion.”

“I want one,” she said, her voice low.

She could tell she’d surprised him once more; herself, too.

“Really?”

She nodded. Before now, she’d never desired another woman, but sitting here watching them had excited her, made her wonder what it felt like to touch or be touched by another girl, as Lynda had. Of course, Jack had just told her she couldn’t touch them, but she simply wanted to do as Lynda had suggested and follow her urges, and her urge at the moment was to have a woman’s curves hovering over and around her. More than that, her urge was to have Jack watch.

Jack’s voice came even lower and huskier. “Did you have a particular girl in mind?”

“Her,” Liz said, pointing to the same brunette they’d been watching give a dance at the next table. She looked at him. “Can you arrange it?”

He nodded.

Jack couldn’t believe Liz wanted a lap dance. Her voice was so breathy asking him about it, her full lips so pouty and kissable, her eyes so wild with curious passion. As he rose to approach the same hot brunette he’d been aroused by the other night, his cock stood so stiff it was almost painful.

As the stripper finished working over the younger guy, rising off him and accepting her tip, she turned to where Jack stood waiting. “How much?” he asked.

“Is it for you?” she inquired and her eyes told him she wanted him to say yes.

“Afraid not.” He pointed toward Liz, gaze focused on the main stage now, where a stripper circled her pole in a Britney Spears schoolgirl outfit. “It’s for my…girlfriend.”

The brunette offered a small smile that made him think she wasn’t disappointed, after all, and that she liked doing women as well as men. “Twenty.”

He handed her the money and added, “By the way, she’s kind of…a virgin at this.”

The stripper flicked pretty deep brown eyes from Liz to him. “Your idea or hers?”

“Hers.”

Her smile widened. “Good.”

Together, they returned to the booth where Liz waited. Before taking a seat beside her, Jack pulled the small round table back so the dancer could reach Liz.

The stripper looked at Liz like Liz usually looked at him—her eyes brimming with desire. “Hi, my name’s Felicia.” Her voice was as smooth as silk.

Liz’s eyes dripped with sensuality and a hint of uncertainty. “Hi.” Her nipples jutted hot and pretty through the slick fabric of her dress.

A new song began, and without further ado, Felicia placed one knee on the seat of the plush burgundy booth next to Liz’s hip before straddling her completely. “Just relax and enjoy,” she said to Liz, who sank a little deeper into her seat as Felicia began to move.

Wearing only her requisite flesh-colored g-string and another sexy pair of fuck-me heels, she began to grind her pussy in hot, tight circles just an inch or so away from Liz’s. She caressed her big, beautiful breasts while Jack and Liz both watched. She tweaked her nipples and swayed them over Liz until they brushed against her chest. Liz let out a small gasp of pleasure and it was all Jack could do not to take his cock in his hand. Like most guys, nothing aroused him quite like the sight of two girls getting it on, and he thought he’d never seen anything so lush and sensual as the dance taking place next to him.

Felicia wore a dirty little smile, clearly pleased she was having the desired effect on both of them. Jiggling her bare breasts against Liz’s once more, the stripper lowered her pussy directly onto Liz’s and began to grind. Oh yeah, he’d been right—Felicia liked doing girls. Her gyrations were hot and slow and sexy as hell, and Liz was beginning to grind back. While they rubbed themselves together, Liz’s eyes roamed Felicia—from her face to her breasts to the bit of fabric stretched over her cunt where it pressed into Liz’s crotch. He barely noticed when other guys in the vicinity began to watch, too—he couldn’t have torn his eyes from the two women if his life had depended on it.

The grinding of pussies through fabric continued and Felicia now rubbed her tits flush against Liz’s, all while simulating a dance. Liz looked drunk with passion, and when Felicia rose to a full sitting position—their crotches still pressed tight together—and began to squeeze and caress her bare breasts, Liz murmured, “Mmm, yes.” That’s when Felicia lowered her hands to Liz’s lovely globes, kneading them as she swayed and moved. Liz let out a ragged sigh and looked down, watching Felicia mold her soft flesh through the dress. Jack could have sworn her nipples popped out a little more and that she worked her hips harder against the stripper’s.

But then Felicia began to cool things down, gradually, and Jack recognized the end of the song approaching and knew Liz’s pleasure was about to come to an end. Felicia ceased touching Liz’s pretty breasts through that creamy dress and resumed kneading her own. Her grinding motions against Liz’s pussy lightened, lightened, until finally she lifted herself up, disconnecting their crotches, finishing the dance that way.

When the song ended, Felicia lowered a soft kiss to Liz’s cheek then slowly got to her feet. The guys at the next table gave a few low whistles and catcalls, and Jack tried to catch his breath as he tucked another twenty into the string of elastic at the stripper’s hip. “Thanks, babe, that was fun,” she said to him, then sauntered away across the room.