Seven Nights of Sin - Lacey Alexander [51]
He spoke with such confidence that it did something to renew hers. Having reflected earlier—even just briefly—on her deception had begun to make her doubt she was doing the right thing, just a little. Now that she knew him. And liked him so much. And the truth was, watching him walk so self-assuredly up to bartenders and club managers to talk music and business left her feeling a little…intimidated. Like no matter how good an ear she had for music, she’d never be able to do certain parts of this job well, or with comfort. But now, with Damon reminding her of the far-reaching rewards such a job held—travel, luxury—she felt a refreshed energy and determination about it all.
“I suppose you’ve been to Venice, too,” she asked, casting him a sideways glance.
He nodded. “Only once.”
“Only once,” she mimicked, unduly pleased when it made him laugh even as he eased a warm arm around her shoulder. “You’ve ridden in a gondola, too, I’m guessing.”
He shrugged. “No other real way to see the place.”
She rolled her eyes at him, and he kissed her—which pretty much killed her jealousy and reawakened the lust she’d been feeling at dinner.
“Forgive me?” he asked softly, leaning his forehead to touch hers.
“For?”
“Going all the places you want to go.”
She teased and flirted. “Another kiss might help.”
This time, though, the kiss wasn’t the short, quick kind—his warm mouth pressed firm to hers, his tongue snaking moistly between her lips. When her own tongue met his, she gushed with moisture in her panties, and like it or not, the romance of the moment, the night, the warm breeze, took hold of her, and there was little to do but surrender to it.
Which is when he moved behind her, wrapping around her, his arms circling her waist, his solid body pressing against her back, ass, thighs. Having sex with Damon Andros was an experience beyond her wildest dreams, but this—being held by him in the dark, looking down on the Las Vegas Strip, feeling at once as if they were in the center of the universe and at the same time blissfully alone—this held an undeniable magic of its own.
“This is nice,” she whispered over her shoulder.
“You feel pretty damn nice yourself.” His breath came warm on her ear.
Then one of his hands shifted upward to caress the underside of her breast as his other palm slid low on her belly, resting on the flat of her stomach just above her cunt—and “nice” no longer described what was taking place. Biting her lip, she leaned back against him, realizing his cock was getting stiff against her bottom.
That’s when the hand on her belly grazed lower, lower, cupping her through her skirt, and her pussy literally pulsed at the possessive touch.
“Damon,” she whispered.
“Yeah, babe?” His voice had gone shadowy, sexy.
“What are you doing?”
“Touching you.”
“But…” They were situated at the very corner of the tower’s railing, and she glanced to either side. No one was looking at them, and the crowd atop the tower was small, yet despite the sense of solitude, they were hardly alone. “There are people here.”
“They can’t see where my hands are,” he assured her, low and persuasive. “No one is paying any attention to us.”
“Well, they might pay attention if I start moving against your hand.” Her voice went lower now, too, breathy with the passion stealing through her. He molded her breast more fully now, and his erection grew harder and harder at her ass. Her body burned to thrust against his fingers.
She more heard than saw his heated expression in the dark. “That’s what I want, Brenna. I want you to fuck my hand.”
Jesus, was he serious? “Right here? With people here?”
“Mmm-hmm.”
She didn’t state the obvious. That she liked it in private. She knew they were both thinking that. And that this was him urging her to step away from her safety zone a little further than she already had. This was him urging her to take a chance, the chance of getting caught.
She’d heard that could really excite some people, the fear of being caught doing something bad—but it truly didn