StripperwithSpice (6 page)

“I am,” he replies. “Can we go now?”

She checks her watch. “Go!”

My mouth is completely dry and I swear my heart is sitting
on my tongue as Carlos whisks me offstage. Without a word, he stops at the
elevator and pushes the Up button. Where is he taking me? His room?

It must mean he plans to sleep with me…or he thinks I expect
to sleep with him. I don’t know if I’m ready to have sex with him, especially
without some normal dates under our belts first. I sure don’t want to if the
feeling isn’t mutual. Besides, didn’t the announcer say hanky-panky was
forbidden?

Oh, this is so confusing!

“I don’t feel like sitting in the bar and having everyone
gawk at us.” He glances at the elevator. “What about you?”

The beaming smile and showmanship are gone. He even leans
from one foot to the other as if he’s ill at ease. Some prize. It’s pretty
clear he doesn’t want me.

“I don’t know,” I mutter. “I’ve never won a fantasy date
before.”

“We can grab some coffee and talk. Or you can go home early
if you’d rather. You mentioned having a lot of work to do.”

Go home?
Boy, he can’t wait to get rid of me, can he?

When the elevator door opens, we walk inside, but I’m not
sure why since we don’t know where we’re going. The space is much too close and
warm. He hits one of the numbers and we ascend, making me more lightheaded than
I already am.

I focus on the striped elevator wallpaper instead of him.
“Why don’t you just go back and draw another number, Carlos?”

He plants himself between the wall and me. “I’m glad it’s
you.”

“You are?”

He nods and holds my hand. “And I’m not in the mood for some
chivalrous fantasy. Like the announcer said, we’re not allowed to have sex, but
I’m willing to break the rules.”

Sex with this gorgeous man? The thought of it tightens every
muscle from the waist down to the point of throbbing. When I squeeze my legs
together to stop the sensation, the seam of my pants presses against my clit.
His warm palm against mine would feel even better on my breasts.

Right now I would give my eyeteeth just to see him naked. To
feel his…

Have I lost my mind? I should hit the button for my floor
and end this charade before it goes any further. The last thing I want is to be
the horny old woman and the world’s biggest fool.

“Don’t put yourself out,” I mutter.

“I didn’t mean—”

The elevator sounds a chime for each floor we pass as if
marking the progress of our battle. Why can’t I push the button for my floor?
Too late. We just passed it.

I withdraw my hand from his grip and hold it up. “Carlos,
please. It’s time to cut the bull. I’m really tired of the fantasy and the
showmanship. I don’t know what’s real and what’s fake anymore.”

“Let me make it clear for you.” His mouth approaches my ear
and he whispers, “The only thing I want to do right now is take you to my room
and fuck you.”

I grip the wall behind me for support as every blood cell in
my body pools in my belly.

Not make out. Not fool around.
Fuck
.

The four-letter word shoots straight to my core faster than
a high-powered rocket, vaporizing my doubts. It doesn’t even matter whether we
do it or not. The fact that he wants to do it with me is enough.

The elevator stops.

He glances up at the indicator panel. “This is my floor.”

Before the doors can open, I hold my finger on the Close
Door button to keep them closed. “I’m really confused. Last night you seemed to
want me. Earlier today, you acted as if I had the plague. I don’t know what to
believe.”

His gaze drops to the floor. “Despite what I do for a
living, I’m actually shy around girls I really like. And I’m not supposed to
tell you this but—”

I slap the wall. “What? Enough fantasy. Give me the
facts—all of them.”

His dark gaze lifts to mine. “You didn’t win me by chance. I
chose you. The raffle was fixed.”

I chose you.

He looks and sounds so serious and honest, how can I not be
completely convinced? His words echo inside my head as he grips both sides of
my face and lowers his mouth to mine in slow motion. The thrill bubbles return
to my bloodstream as if the elevator cable has just snapped, dropping us to the
basement.

Unlike last night’s, this kiss is slow and full of promise.
He samples my mouth as if we have all the time in the world. A flash of
mint-flavored tongue pierces my soul, tearing a moan from my throat. With one
hand still on the button, I raise my other to his shoulder. Feeling the bare, hot
skin there fuels my desire, pushing me dangerously close to the edge of
self-control.

“Do you want this as much as I do, Janice?”

God, yes. I need more…all of you.

I reply by sliding my hand across the tiger-striped fabric
over his back. The warm satin, with muscles moving under it, is just as sexy as
bare skin. His hips dance against mine—rubbing, thrusting and teasing. My
fingers move to the worn waistband of his jeans at his side, wanting to pull
them off. Between my legs, my swollen clit throbs, needing him as I’ve never
needed anything before.

When he pulls my finger off the Close Door button, the door
opens to reveal an annoyed-looking family of five waiting to get on. The
parents, obviously noticing Carlos’ wild vest and our heavy breathing, exchange
a disgusted look.

Carlos takes my hand and leads me off the elevator. My heart
races as we walk down the corridor. Luckily the carpet absorbs the trembling in
my legs so I don’t make a sound.

He stops at one of the doors. I fixate on the way he slides
his keycard from his back pocket and inserts it into the door reader. It’s
something I’ve done myself a million times without thinking, but this is
different. This is foreplay.

The door responds with a little click and a flashing green
light. I guess we just got the green light for wild, hot sex. My heart
accelerates even more. If it goes any faster, he’ll have to call a paramedic. I
can read the headline now.

Boring financial analyst dies from anticipating sex with
a hot cover model.

I check my watch. Fifteen minutes have passed.

“We still have plenty of time.” He ushers me inside and
closes the door behind me.

The room is completely dark because the drapes are drawn.
It’s as if we’ve entered a private cave, hidden from the world. This is it, I
think as Carlos flips on a dim lamp.
We’re really going to do this. We’re
going to have sex.

“Come in and make yourself comfortable,” he says.

I stay where I am but gaze around the room, noticing with
approval how neat he is. His clothes hang in the closet and his toiletries are
laid out on one corner of the sink. The smoky-brown bottle probably contains
the mysterious mesquite scent. I wish he were a slob so I could tell myself it
would never work between us.

It doesn’t take long for my attention to stumble across the
centerpiece of the room, the large bed. Is it another stage? Is the perfectly
pressed red cover the curtain? Unlike the platforms we shared for the photo
shoot and lap dance, this one is completely private.

What if he doesn’t like my performance?

“I’ve never done this before,” I whisper.

His eyebrows lift. “You’re a virgin, Janice?”

“N-no. I mean, not like this.”

I’ve never had sex with someone I barely know. It’s too bad
I can’t ask Zena what it’s like. I’m sure she’s had a few flings. Won’t it be
awkward having sex with someone I barely know? He won’t know what pleases me or
vice versa.

And what about afterward? I’ll probably never see him again.
Can I live with that? If I turned into an emotional wreck from being kissed in
the hall last night, what in the world would sex do to me?

I’ll never forget Carlos if I sleep with him. How can I hold
down my job with that kind of emotional pain and distraction?

He walks toward me and holds out a hand. “Janice, are you
all right?”

I shake my head and grip the back of the door I lean
against. How can I give up this opportunity for what’ll probably be the biggest
thrill of my life? Weeks of drudgery stretch before me. Work, go home, worry
about work and sleep just to do it all over again the next day.

It doesn’t matter. Work and security have to come first.
I’ve had my fun this weekend. It would have to be enough.

But unshed tears leak down the back of my throat because
I’ve never wanted anything or anyone so much.

“I’m sorry, Carlos. I can’t do this.”

Carlos steps toward me. His arms hang at awkward angles as
if he’s ill at ease. And whose fault is that? I won the chance a hundred women
down there would kill for and I just blew it.

“We don’t have to have sex, Janice,” he says softly.

I turn and grab the doorknob. “I should go and…stop wasting
your time.”

“Stay.”

My grip freezes at that one word.

He shrugs, reminding me of an awkward boy again. “We could
get to know each other a little. I don’t want to say goodbye yet.”

If I stay in this room, I’m going to have sex.
I
don’t know who or what tells me this, but I believe it. I’m also not ready to
say goodbye. So what are we supposed to do for the next hour and change? Play
cards?

“Me either,” I reply.

He stands close to me, a dim shape in the shadowy doorway.
Why do we always end up near doors? He’s so close now I hear and feel his
breath.

“Your shoulders look tense. I’m pretty good at massage.”

I bet you are.
He places his hands on them. His
fingers are so warm and light the bones, sinews and muscles melt beneath his
touch. I nod.
More. More. I need more.

“Would you like to sit down?” he offers.

We’re so formal and awkward this should be a scene in a
comedy. Once I’m seated in one of the two padded armchairs, I take a deep
breath. I’m safer here. Standing up, it’s too easy to press my body against the
length of his and fall into bed.

I close my eyes as his hands work magic from my neck to my
shoulders. When is the last time I’ve had one of these? I could easily enjoy
this for the next two hours. When he pauses, my eyes fly open. It can’t be over
already.

“You know, I could do a much better job if I touch your bare
skin. Do you mind unbuttoning your blouse a little?”

Electricity jolts through my arms, making my fingers twitch
on the armrests.

“All right.” Careful not to let him see my breasts, I
unbutton a few buttons and carefully lower the fabric just enough to expose my
shoulders. “What about my bra straps?”

In reply, he eases them off my shoulders, one at a time. The
movement drenches my panties.

“I like your bra,” he says. “It’s very sexy.”

My mouth is drier than the hardiest cactus in the deepest
desert. “Th-thanks you.”

God, I can’t even speak English anymore. Would he like my
thong too? No way am I letting him see that, massage or no massage.

He chuckles. “I expected an analyst to wear a boring white
bra.”

My breath hitches when his strong fingers dig into my bared
flesh. “That’s what I usually wear. I bought this special…for the weekend.”

“You must have had a premonition that you’d be admired in
it.”

I sink deeper into the chair as he probes my muscles harder
and harder. Every knot of tension dissolves under his expert touch. My head
slips back and a slight moan even escapes me. When I realize what I’ve done, I
sit up straight.

He clenches my shoulders as if to make me listen to him.
“Let go, Janice. You need this.”

Yes…

After time passes, my muscles are limp and tingly. They’ve
had enough. I order myself out of the chair and toward the door, but I can’t
seem to move.

“Thank you, Carlos. That was wonderful.”

He replies by lifting my curls, which requires both hands,
and planting a tender kiss on the back of my neck. “You’re welcome, beautiful.”

“I’m sorry my hair is such a mess. If I’d known I would win
a fantasy date, I would have done something with it.”

Such as put a whole jar of bear grease or a bag on it.

“I love your hair. It’s wild and sexy.” He actually sounds
serious.

I look at my watch, hoping the two hours is up, but an hour
hasn’t even passed. He bends over me from behind and puts his hands over mine,
pinning them to the chair arms.

“I think the time will pass more quickly if we play a game,”
he suggests. “Why don’t we pretend you won me at that raffle and I’ll do
anything you want for the two hours?”

I gulp.
Anything?
Intrigue whispers across my skin,
so I decide to go along with it.

“O-okay.”

“So what else do you like, Janice? You’re not leaving until
I’ve given you everything you need.”

I notice he said need instead of want. He must realize I’m
too responsible to give in to my desires. What do I need? Security, food and
shelter. Isn’t that all? My wet cunt begs to differ. I need him.
No sex
,
I remind myself. Maybe I should offer to massage him.

A scene from a romantic movie flashes into my mind. It took
place in France and the hero whispered hot French into the heroine’s ear.
Spanish would sound even better.

“There is something,” I murmur.

“Name it,” Carlos replies, still leaning over me.

“Do you speak Spanish?”

He laughs at my stupid question. “
Sí
.”

“Could you whisper some sweet Spanish nothings in my ear?”

“Of course. Stand up.”

When he moves back, I stand. Forgetting my half-buttoned
blouse, it slips and almost falls off. After grabbing it, I fumble with the
buttons and manage to pull the bra straps up before he stops my hands with his.

“Don’t button it just yet. Are you ready,
señorita
?”

I nod. Near the chair, he stands behind me and grips my
waist. His lips wander over my cheek and brush my ear, sending an arrow of heat
straight to my belly. The skin he massaged is still warm from the friction of
his touch. My blood carries the heat to every distant inch of my body. I know
from where he’s standing he can see the tops of my breasts displayed in the
push-up bra. Aside from my cunt, they burn the hottest of all.

“
Te deseo, mi corazón. Solo puedo pensar en ti.
” His
slow, honeyed whisper is a rolling caress, stroking something deep inside me
with the lightest touch.

Goose bumps and chills race down my neck. Oh yes. I mean s
í
.
That’s what I want to hear.

“You like that, Janice?”

As if he has to ask. I sigh with bliss. “More.”

He chuckles again. “
Más
? Okay.”

His voice rises above a whisper and the words become more
demanding. The force of them bumps his chest against my back.

“
Hacer el amor para mí. Me chupan….
”

Yes, yes, yes to whatever you just said.
I don’t
speak Spanish, but I don’t need a translator to know he’s talking dirty to me.
And the more I hear the more I crave.

“What did you say?” I demand.

He pauses. “Do you really want to know,
carísima mía
?”

No! Yes!
I turn to face him, breaking his grip. “Tell
me.”

“If you insist. I begged you to fuck me and suck my cock
deep into your throat.”

His dark gaze holds mine as if in challenge while the
explicit words hang between us.

He brushes the backs of his fingers across my cleavage in a
casual caress. My nipples stiffen with longing. I need a cold shower in the
worst way.

“I can’t keep my hands off you,” he mutters.

Which is why I should leave now…

I shiver when his fingers slip inside the lacy bra cup to
tease my nipple. When he pinches it between two fingers, my knees almost
buckle.

“A-aren’t you supposed to ask before touching me?” I tease.
“This game you suggested is about what I want, isn’t it?”

Carlos lets out a harsh sigh. “I know, but what I want keeps
getting in the way.”

To prove his point, he grabs my hand and claps it against
the hard bulge in his pants. Instinctively my fingers curl around the rigid
heat, exploring the shape of him through the fabric.

“Shit, Janice. I can’t take this anymore.”

Before I can stop him, he unzips his pants, pulls his bare
cock from tight-fitting black briefs and puts it in my hand. A sheen of sweat
appears on his breastbone.

“I’ll ask you in English this time. Let me fuck you. We both
need it.”

I drop the hot parcel burning my hand and look away. “But we’re
not right for each other and I don’t do casual sex.”

“Don’t analyze it. Just go with your instincts for once.
When the two hours are up, we can go our separate ways.”

I turn over his proposal in my mind. A clean, no-strings
one-night stand. It’s not as if I do this sort of thing all the time. Why not
sow a wild oat before I pass into middle age? Of all the men I could pick for
the job, this is the one I want.

“I definitely couldn’t do more than a one-night thing,” I
say, thinking out loud. “I’m not even sure I can do that.”

When I look at him again, his pants are zipped back up but
still bulging. He slides my bra straps off again and pulls down the bra cups
until my breasts are exposed to his hungry gaze.

“Say no, Janice,” he utters in harsh, clipped tones. “Say no
to me anytime you want and I’ll stop.”

My throat convulses, but I can’t find the word, much less
say it. His mouth moves over the tops of my breasts, the tip of his hot, wet
tongue searing my skin. I arch my spine, practically forcing one of my hard
nipples into his mouth.

His lips encircle the fleshy peak with the perfect pressure,
firm and juicy-soft at the same time. My fingers find the back of his head and
fork through his glossy, dark hair. I half cry out when hard teeth nip the
engorged bud. In response, I grab his hair, pulling it.

“Stop me,” he demands while giving the same treatment to my
other breast. His hand cups the first breast, his expert thumb stroking over
the nipple just enough to keep it hard and throbbing while he sucks the other.

When my hips thrust the air, he grabs them and pulls my
pelvis against his.

“Tell me no,” he demands, yanking open the button on the
waistband of my jeans. “Leave while you still can.”

But he knows I can’t now. A ravenous hunger much stronger
than I has taken over my body. If I don’t quench it, it’ll 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.