SinfullyYours

Lisa
Fox

Mardi Gras is a time of debauchery, the “last hurrah” for
all the sinners before Lent begins on Ash Wednesday. Bailey is
on a mission to wallow in some serious carnal delights, and Bourbon Street is chock-full of options.

When a handsome military man appears at her
side, she knows he’s the one for her. Beads are exchanged, flesh
exposed, but their night of sinfully wicked lust ends with the coming of the
dawn.

Bailey has the chance to keep the passion alive, as long as
she has the courage to take the chance of a lifetime.

A
Romantica®
contemporary erotic romance
from Ellora’s Cave

Dedication

For my convention coffee crew—my morning fix is not the same
without all of you.

It was Mardi Gras night, and Bailey was horny. She stood on
the corner of Bourbon and St. Peter, watching the people scream and cheer,
exchange beads and bodily fluids. The night was humid, sultry and the air was
heavy with the scent of sin and sex. Sweat damped the brows of the revelers as
they wallowed in all kinds of depravity and hedonistic delights. Nothing was
taboo on Mardi Gras and for the right amount of beads, even the dirtiest
requests might be granted.

A young couple laughed uproariously as they fell against the
outside of Preservation Hall in a tangle of limbs and lips. Bailey smiled as
she watched them, the first stirrings of her own lust tickling her insides. The
man’s hands roamed over the woman’s chest, roughly squeezing her over her
clothes. Her brand-name T-shirt was no match for his amorous fumbling, and it
was quickly pushed aside to reveal her small, high breasts. The man beamed,
overjoyed with his prize, and dove in face first.

Drunken spectators began to gather around them, blocking her
view. Not that it mattered. People were getting it on everywhere, on the
balconies, in the doorways, in the middle of the street. Mardi Gras was a
voyeur’s wet dream and there were many excellent sights to feast upon—breasts
and asses and even some cocks here and there. And so much variety. Every size,
shape and color was boldly represented, and everyone was rewarded with beads
and adoration. There was something for all tastes, a decadent cornucopia of
naked flesh.

A wonderful display indeed, but tonight was about more than
just watching. Tonight, Bailey was going to find a man and fuck him
hard
.
She had worked the entire duration of Mardi Gras, serving drinks to people too
drunk to care what they were drinking. The bar had been packed every single
night, no less than four deep at any given point during her shift, and by the
time five a.m. rolled around and she got through all the details of shift
change with the morning bartender, she had been too whipped to go out and
frolic. Now, after two weeks of ass-kicking toil, she was finally off, and
ready to party.

A man approached her out of the streaming throng of
revelers, a wide grin on his generous lips. She did a quick assessment, looking
him up and down. Not her usual type, he was a little too young, a little too
frat-boy preppy for her taste, but he had a nice body. He probably had a
decent-sized cock too, nothing too outrageous or all that long or fat, but
serviceable. With the right kind of directions, he might even be able to use it
properly. She smiled at him as he untangled a set of sparkling purple beads
from the bundle on his chest and placed them around her neck. The inevitable
declaration, “
Show me your tits
!” was bound to come next, it was the
customary payment for such a gesture after all. She was ready to show him what he
wanted, and perhaps a whole lot more, but he just smiled without a word and
melded back in with the crowd.

“All well,” Bailey said and adjusted the beads around her
neck. Apparently, he wasn’t the one. That was all right though because there
were plenty of others to choose from. Men paraded up and down Bourbon Street, drinking
beer out of plastic cups, flinging beads, partying passionately. Any one of
them would do just as well. She wasn’t looking for the love of her life or any
kind of love at all, but if she was really lucky, she would get to feel that
instant hit of sexual attraction, that tingling thrill that always meant
phenomenal sex. A rare thing, she knew, but it was awesome when it happened.
Even if it didn’t happen, that was okay too. Tonight was about getting laid,
nothing more, and she was going to scratch that itch for all it was worth.

A roar of cheers and applause exploded from somewhere down
the street and Bailey smiled. Someone must have shown something very, very
good. She toasted the night with the remnants of the cocktail she had picked up
before hitting Bourbon Street. The sharp kick of cheap vodka burned pleasantly
as it slid down her throat. She put the empty cup aside, balancing it on top of
a garbage can already heaped with at least twenty others. The alcohol went
straight to her head, and she laughed as beads rained down out the sky. Music
blasted from the Cat’s Meow speakers, a pulsating beat that commanded the crowd
to dance. With no desire to resist, she moved her hips to the rhythm, letting
herself get carried away.

“I think I just found my new favorite song,” a man said from
somewhere beside her.

He had a deep voice, a panty-melting baritone, and she was
already smiling as she turned toward him. What she found only made her smile
wider. He was tall, well over six feet, with close-cropped caramel-brown hair,
and blue-gray eyes. With his ramrod-straight spine, firm body and air of
tightly controlled dominance, he had to be military. She met his gaze and a
prickly thrill tiptoed down her spine. This was a most fortuitous turn of
events. If she had her way, he was going to be the one she fucked tonight. “It
is a pretty good song.”

His gaze roamed over her, a lazy, blatant perusal of her
entire body. He started with her face, taking in her eyes, her lips, her
throat, working his way down to her breasts where he lingered for a bit, then
to her hips, over the low-riding waistband of her jeans, farther down to her
platform sandals, and then all the way back up again. Layer by layer of her
clothing fell away under his intense scrutiny, until she was stripped naked
before him, bare and trembling. Her cheeks were flushed when he finally met her
eyes again, and she was ready to take a huge bite out of him. He held her gaze
and smiled. “I definitely like it.”

Bailey silently thanked the gods of Mardi Gras for providing
her with this man. He was just what she needed. Her gaze flicked to his crotch,
but his pants weren’t tight enough to reveal any interesting details. She wasn’t
worried though. She could already tell from the way he held himself that he had
a ginormous cock. And that he knew how to use it.

A group of scantily clad, middle-aged women pushed past
them, leaving the rich scent of floral perfumes in their wake. The crowd
thundered with approval when they hit Bourbon Street and promptly flashed the
masses. They were pummeled with beads from all directions, and they cackled as
they collected their rewards.

Bailey’s new friend laughed as well, amusement lighting up
his handsome face. “This is crazy.”

She nodded. It was crazy. “Yeah, it’s awesome. I love Mardi
Gras.”

“Is this your first time in New Orleans?”

“No, I live here.” She waved her hand in the general
direction of her house. “In the Quarter.”

“Convenient.”

“Yes it is.” A man staggered past them, one hand gripping
his unbuckled drooping pants, his semihard cock flapping against his thigh.
Bailey took a step closer to her companion to avoid colliding with the man. The
drunken fool clipped her anyway, knocking her into her new friend. Their eyes
met and tension gathered in the air between them, an electric current that
stirred the fine hairs on her arms. “You know what my favorite part of Mardi
Gras is?”

He moved closer, towering over her, dwarfing her with his
size. “What’s that?”

Her gaze flicked to his mouth, then back to his eyes, and
then down to his mouth again. “Getting beads.”

A slight dip of his head brought his lips close to hers. She
could taste his breath—sweet alcohol, mint, and heat. “I have some pretty good
ones.”

“You do.” Examining his beads was a great excuse to grope
him, and she took full advantage. He was a solid wall of muscle, his chest warm
and firm beneath her palms, and it wasn’t hard to locate his dog tags under his
cotton T-shirt. She smiled. It was always nice to be right. There were several
military bases not far from the French Quarter. Maybe he was stationed close
by. Bailey bit down on her own tongue to curb that dangerous train of thought.
That was not what this night was about. She went back to playing with his
beads, finally selecting a set of red aliens from the pile. “Can I have these?”

He pretended to think it over. “What are you going to show
me?”

She smiled, looking up at him through her lashes. She was
going to fuck him so hard. Damp night air touched her skin when she unhooked the
top two buttons on her shirt and peeled the fabric aside to show him her lacy,
black bra. It was her good-luck bra, the one she wore whenever she was in the
mood for some naughtiness. She hoped whatever mojo it had didn’t fail her now.

His gaze fixed on her chest. The weight of his regard made
her nipples tingle, and she was very conscious of the rise and fall of her
chest. Seconds stretched out, the sound of her breathing loud in her ears. He
touched her cheek, a gentle caress of his fingertips that sent a thousand-watt
jolt to her pussy. Her knees almost buckled when he traced an electric path
down her throat, over her collarbone. Every cell in her body clamored for his
touch and she hissed in air when he outlined the swell of her breast, then
moved over, lower, down toward her cleavage. His fingers descended a little
farther, but she pulled away before he could reach his goal, flashing him a
little smirk as she stepped out of reach.

He chuckled, removed the beads she had chosen, and looped
the strand around her neck. He met her gaze, his blue-gray eyes boring deep
into hers as he wound the necklace around his fist. With a grin, he yanked her
forward, the beads tightening around her throat as he brought her lips to his
and thrust his tongue into her mouth. She moaned as his taste overrode her
senses, heat pooling in her core. The necklace bit into her flesh and he tugged
on it, forcing her up on her toes. She gripped his biceps, her fingers digging
into the hard muscles as she held on tight. The kiss completely swept her away,
and she opened wider, giving herself over to him, letting him go as deep as he desired.

He nipped her lower lip and then pulled slightly back. She
laughed even as she panted, loving his boldness and wanting more. So much more.
She met his gaze and licked her upper lip, savoring his flavor. “Does that mean
I have to give you beads now?”

He shook his head slowly, his eyes dancing with mirth. “No,
that one was free.”

Her gaze fell to his mouth, and she touched his lower lip. “And
if I want another?”

“That depends upon what you’re willing to do for it.” His
grin was cocky, self-assured and all hot sex.

She smiled back at him. He was too much fun. She lifted her
chin, inviting him in, and was pleased when he automatically dipped his head.
He made it so easy. She pulled back before their lips could meet, giggling as
she teased him.

He gave the beads another tug, dragging her back against
him. The strand was tight around her throat, pressing against the back of her
neck, making her acutely aware of how in control he truly was. All he had to do
was yank them again and he could take whatever he wanted. Their eyes met and
they were frozen, locked in each other’s gazes. A power struggle passed between
them and was decided in the endless fraction of a second it took for her to
look away. Her cheeks burned, and she was thoroughly wet when he released her.
His smile said he knew it too. He took a step back and smoothed the beads down
over her breasts, taking his time to arrange them to his liking while subtly
copping a few feels.

Camera lights erupted to their right, and they both turned
to see a beautiful brunette flash a group of young men. Cheers burst from her
audience when she bounced her full, round breasts. Bailey had to grudgingly
admit that her breasts were gorgeous, close to perfect in fact, with tiny pink
nipples that puckered in the night air. The woman shimmied her shoulders and
was paid in beads and howling appreciation. Her admirers got one last shake before
she pulled her shirt back down, grabbed one of the young men and tongue-kissed
him hungrily—much to the delight of the crowd.

“How come you didn’t show me all that?” her companion asked,
his gaze fixed once again on her chest.

Her lips curled as she looked him up and down. “You seemed
satisfied with what you saw.”

“Oh, no,” he said, and something flashed deep in his eyes,
something dark and enticing. “I am definitely not satisfied. Not yet.”

She did like the sound of that. “Well, if you want to see
more, it’s going to cost you.” She ran her fingertips over the beads on his
chest.

“Ah, I see.” He chose a green strand with a fleur-de-lis
medallion and separated it from the rest. “Will these do?”

She made a big deal of inspecting the beads, rolling them
between her fingers, examining the plastic medallion. “They’re all right, I
guess.” She shrugged. “Enough for a little peek anyway.”

He plucked the strand from her grasp. “I think I need more
than just a little peek.”

The night was turning out to be far better than she could
have ever anticipated. When she set out, her goal was to get laid. But with
him, she was actually having fun. “Okay,” she said, methodically unbuttoning
another button on her shirt. “But only because you’re cute.”

He gave her a saucy wink. “Being cute does have its perks.”

She could only shake her head as she unbuttoned one more
button, exposing the skin right above her navel. His gaze became intent,
focused, but when she did not immediately continue her deliberate progression,
he reached out and quickly unbuttoned the rest of her shirt himself.

“Hey,” she whined. “That’s no fun.”

“I disagree,” he said, backing her up against the closest
brick wall. “It was actually lots of fun.” He braced his hands on either side
of her head, caging her in, but also forming a barrier of sorts, creating a
private show for himself—or as private as anything could be on the corner of
Bourbon Street. “Please, continue.”

She looked into his eyes and unlatched the front clasp of
her bra, slowly peeling back one cup to expose her naked breast to the night
air. Her nipple instantly puckered, begging for his attention. His fingertips lightly
traced the outside curve of her breast, raising goose bumps on her skin and then
he cupped her, testing the weight in his hand. Raw lust rocketed to her pussy
when he circled her nipple with his thumb, and her pulse beat a furious tempo
in her throat. She arched her back toward him, meeting his hips. His erection
pressed against her lower belly and she grabbed his waist, pulling him closer. Fierce
desire made her breath catch when he dipped his head, and she silently willed
him to take the nub into his mouth. Fire tore through her when he blew on it
instead, the warm stream of his breath making her burn.