My Five Night Fling by Maci Dillon

 

 

KASSIDY

 

The burlesque show is opulent and eccentric. What more can I say?

We enjoyed Mediterranean cuisine and the perfect portions to digest with a bottle of Italian wine.

The show is coming to an end, and the area will soon convert into a nightclub. The more we drink, the more I want to stay and dance. I’m torn between dancing the night away and fucking Jarett’s brains out. The show is saucy, and my juices are flowing.

Who am I kidding? I want him more now than I did last night.

We haven’t talked about last night or what to expect from the rest of this evening, though.

I search beneath the table in the middle of the dining area facing the stage and cup Jarett’s crotch. His legs immediately relax, widening a little to allow me to caress his package. Through his jeans, his growth is evident. I clench my cheeks tight on the chair to ward off the dancing in my panties.

Damn these pants. I should’ve worn a dress. I want him to rub my clit under the table with no barriers and get me off while we watch the finale. My senses are heightened as I imagine other diners catching us in the act.

The nightclub is now pumping with people, and new crowds of partygoers continue to flow in. Our bodies grind against each other on the dance floor, and our hands explore each other’s bodies as we move to the beat of the music. The lighting is dull with interchanging colors of flashing lights which accentuate the movement and mood of the dancers.

“Cocktail for the lady, please, and a house beer for me.” The bartender nods, perusing me head to toe as Jarett orders for us.

“Classic marg, darlin’?” he asks with a thick American accent.

Jarett pulls me closer to him, placing his hand territorially on my shoulder.

“Please,” I confirm.

“There’s nothing classic about you, darlin’,” Jarett rasps in my ear, putting on a southern twang accent. I shake my head at his stupidity.

Our drinks arrive. “Classic with a twist,” the young American winks, taking Jarett’s cash.

Jarett leads us to a table for two at the side of the dance floor.

“So, what’s the twist?” he asks when we take a seat.

Taking a large sip of my drink, I cough and release the straw from between my lips. Jarett coughs into his fist, trying not to laugh.

“Extra lime, double tequila, and a tinge of something spicy?” I lick my lips. Jarett requests a taste, and I happily hand him the glass.

The tang must have hit his throat in the same way, his face contorting as though he’s bitten into a fresh lemon.

“You’re not wrong. But Mr. America is all kinds of fucked up if he thinks getting you plastered with this spicy concoction will work. There’s no way in hell I’m leaving here without you.”

I throw my head to the side in exaggeration. “As if I’d let you.”

“Get tanked on one drink or…” he teases.

“Stay without you.”

My words please him. I love being the cause of his infectious grin spreading across his lips.

Yeah, so my one-night plan with Jarett isn’t working out so well. I mean, it’s amazing, but it doesn’t gel with my plan.

My plan for now. This plan called life.

I’m dangerously close to enjoying my time with him too much. There’s no room for dating and shit in my life. Plus, I leave in a few days.

We dance, we drink—margaritas mostly—which we order from the other bar to avoid more promiscuous drinks and empty flirting.

In the early hours of the morning, exhaustion takes its toll, and thankfully, Jarett is eager to get me out of here.

Hopefully, he wants to get me into bed again.

Either way, I’m ready for us to head back to the hotel.

“Fuck.” I jiggle the card into the slot on my door, praying for it to open. Jarett is grinding against my ass while I drunkenly try to get us inside my room.

“Stop it.” I giggle, batting his hand away from undoing my pants. “I’m struggling to get us in the fucking door,” I slur.

“May I?” he begs, taking the swipe card from me and slipping it in the latch, popping open immediately.

Typical.

The smartass pumps his fist. “Winner!” I groan out loud as I trudge through the door.

Peeling off my coat, I throw my bag and scarf on the sofa and make quick work of removing my boots. Jarett turns down the bed covers and strips naked, his cock already hard and standing at attention.

He stalks toward me and leans past me to collect my scarf.

Stripping out of my clothes with only my bra and panties in place, I turn to see him with my scarf wrapped around his erection. My scarf will never be the same again.

“Gonna restrain me with this thing?” I smirk, grabbing him, searching the room for something he can tie me to.

Jarett stares at me, releases his cock from the material, and spins me around. Taking both my wrists, he ties them together, the fabric dancing over my buttocks and the tops of my thighs, causing goosebumps to break out over my body.

“Is this okay?” he whispers, sucking on my earlobe.

“Yes,” I pant, desperate to have his hands on me.

Jarett guides me to the small table in the center of the kitchenette and pushes me forward until my top half is splayed over the cold glass top. The chair screeches across the floor, and he brushes against me, his finger lightly tracing over my ass.

When his palm slaps my right cheek, I yelp. The sting ignites a new level of need. I moan into the table, my heated breath fogging the glass. When his hand comes down over my left cheek, I writhe in place, desperate for more.

“You like that, baby?” he whispers as he runs his finger beneath my panties and between my thighs.

“Fucking hell, Kassidy. You’re so wet for me already.”

Does this guy have no idea how fucking hot he is? A blind woman would be salivating at the mere closeness of him. His entire aura oozes sex, and his voice dripping from his lips promises pleasure.

I moan as he kisses my shoulders and teasingly removes my panties. Pulling them slowly over my thighs, his kisses follow his movements until the lace falls to my ankles, and he’s kneeling below me on the floor.

Beginning at my feet, his hands caress the lengths of my legs until again, he’s teasing my pussy with his fingers, his mouth trailing wet kisses from my thighs to meet the moisture pooling in my center.

“Taste so fucking sweet. Never get enough of you,” he growls beneath me. My thighs tremble in anticipation as he uses his fingers to fill me with pleasure.

I love a man who can navigate a woman’s body without direction.

The way he fondles me, he’s made to order. Just for me.

Intimate.

Tantalizing.

A mix of slow movements and rapid strokes has me grinding against him in no time.

“Jarett,” I gasp.

“What do you want, Kassidy?” he growls quietly.

I rotate my hips, his fingers deep inside me now. “You. I want you, Jarett.”

He withdraws his fingers and kisses my sensitive clit before standing and forcing me to face him. Heat floods my cheeks as he raises my face until our eyes meet. There are so many ways to interpret the way he looks at me.

I’m giddy with lust.

He releases my bra and lets my breasts fall freely. My arms pull at the restraints. My fingers itch to trace the ridges of his muscular physique, but it only makes the scarf wind tighter around my wrists.

Jarett lifts me onto the table in a swift one-arm movement. My hands fastened behind me, I’m unable to steady myself as he pulses the head of his cock along my pussy. He rubs himself through the wetness, coating his cock with my juices.

“Fuck,” he grumbles, leaving me to dig through his jeans for a condom from his wallet. Patience or lack thereof threatens to derail my cool decorum as my eyes fasten on him, watching as he slides the silicone over his length.

Two long strides and he’s between my legs again. “Ahh, damn,” I gasp as he drives into me in one swift movement. He fills me. So deep. He grips my waist to stop me from falling backward and moves me to meet each of his thrusts until we’re both panting. Our moans grow louder.

Not missing a beat, he releases my hands. “Grab my neck.”

He lifts me from the hips and steps away from the table. My inner muscles clench around him as he moves a few feet and spins me around, slamming me into the wall.

He thrusts his hips, pumping into me, driving me up the wall.

Literally. Further with each stroke.

“Kiss me, Kassidy. I need you everywhere.”

He moans as I explore his mouth with my tongue. His kisses have a way of reaching depths of me I never assumed possible. I’m so close, but I try to hold off.

“Don’t keep it from me, sweetheart. Let me have it,” he coaxes me. It tips me over the O-cliff, my fingernails digging into his shoulders as I ride it out.

“Fucking beautiful.”

Taking me to the bed, he lays me flat, hooks my thighs over his shoulders, and chases his own release. Like the gentleman he is, he takes me right along with him for the third time.

I barely register moving.

I’m so exhausted, I fall asleep with a man in my bed.

First time for everything.