The scene’s hot, and my balls grow heavy and my dick hardens, especially since I have Paige plastered against my side. Her chest rises and falls erratically, and she licks her lips, her eyes glued to the screen. Even in the dimness of the room, I can see the dark flush on her cheeks.
After the characters both come, he tucks his dick back in his pants, and she smoothes her dress. They don’t talk to each other or make eye contact, but they aren’t embarrassed either.
Stranger sex.
Paige breathes out softly, lips parted.
“You like that, babe?” I whisper into her ear.
She starts to shake her head, then stops. “Yes.”
“Is that your fantasy? Sex with a stranger?” When she pulls her lips in, I lift her chin with a finger. “Tell me.”
“…yes.”
“Are you a stripper?”
“No.” She pauses for a moment. “In my fantasy, I’m just a girl having fun at a club. But men are watching me as I dance with my friends. They check me out, my boobs, my ass. The way I dance. And they want me, and they don’t care if I know that they want me.”
Her beaded nipples are poking at the shirt. I bend down and take one into my mouth through the cotton.
A breath shudders out of her. Her pupils are dilated.
My body responds to her arousal. I’m uncomfortably hard, my balls tight.
Her voice shaky, she continues, “When I get away from my friends to grab a drink at the bar—it’s past a lot of dark corners—a man shoves me against the wall, away from the prying eyes. I don’t know who he is, but he’s warm and solid and smells like a million bucks. There’s a hint of expensive alcohol…maybe scotch…when he fondles my breast, pinching my nipple a little, making me gasp.”
She lets out the last word on a soft sigh. I can totally imagine the scenario. I tweak her other nipple when she’s taking too long a break. I want to hear the rest.
She moans. “He says he’s not usually like this, but he can’t help himself. He just wants me, and the urge is undeniable. He speaks well, and it’s obvious that he’s well-educated and had the kind of upbringing that taught him right from wrong, but all he can think about is possessing my body.
“He doesn’t even want to hear my answer because he has to have me, and if I say no, maybe some part of him will compel him to let me go. He puts one hand over my mouth and slides the other under my skirt…between my legs. He knows immediately that I’m wet.”
“Do you touch yourself when you fantasize about this?” I ask.
“Yes.” Her answer is soft, but there is strong need lacing her voice.
“Take off your shirt.”
She does, her hands unsteady.
I hit a button to recline our seat. “Show me,” I order.
She looks into my eyes as if seeking some kind of confirmation. Apparently she finds it; she lies back, her gorgeous lush body spread out before me like a sensual feast. Her rosy nipples are hard, beaded tightly. Her legs are parted, and one delicate hand covers her pussy. She circles a finger around her swollen clit and squeezes one breast. Her eyelids flutter, and she breathes audibly.
“Tell me your fantasy,” she says.
“Mine’s pretty simple,” I say, my eyes on her.
“Simple is good.”
That gets a corner of my mouth to lift. “I’m in a dark room, naked,” I begin.
As if to reward me for that, she buries two fingers inside herself and lets out a low cry. The sound and visual go straight to my bloodstream, and I bite back a curse.
“I’m standing, while there’s this girl on her knees. Her hands are bound behind her, and she’s blindfolded. She can’t see anything, has no idea who I am or what I look like, but it’s not important. She’s a gift. A sex slave. Since she’s a good one, she’ll do whatever her master told her to do—which is to let me use her in any way I please. But I don’t want her unless she wants me, and I tell her so. She can only be wet if she wants me, not because she’s trying to obey her master’s order.”
Paige fucks herself with her hand, and lust pounds through me. When I don’t continue, she prompts, “Then what?”