The Delight of Deviance (Machiavelli & Lala)

[Lala]

Flashes of neon glimmered in puddles like black mirrors on the boardwalk of the Entertainment District. The road was narrow, open to foot traffic only, running between close-set buildings alive with light and chaos. Blue running lights blinked on either side, like a runway guiding visitors to the myriad clubs and parlors and opium dens that spanned the ED in the great sprawl of Neo York.

Kayla’s heels clicked on the shockingly clean pavement, stomping out an angry pace as she texted her friend. It was her birthday -- her birthday! -- and Hana had disappeared right after she took a big hit of some designer molly shaped like a butterfly at that swanky club down at the crossroads. She waited for over an hour before deciding her friend must have gone home with one of those second rate fuckboys that had been circling the two of them.

The wind was chilly and by now the molly had kicked in, making her feel each caress of it like soft fingers tracing over her bare back and shoulders. She had worn a stunner of a dress - very short, tight, with a deep V-neck and barely there spaghetti straps. Covered in sequins. Glamorous, racy. It had worked almost too well. She had to practically beat men off, and not in a fun way.

Kayla was slender but not boyish, with pert breasts and tanned skin as silky and sweet as creme brulee. Her brown hair was pinned up tonight to show off her elegant neck and shoulders, but when loosened it tumbled down her back in waves. Her eyes were glass green, and often full of mischief. Men often said she was confusing -- straddling the line precisely between pinchably cute and goddamn sexy with the ability to tilt either way at any given moment. They wanted to hold her and protect her and desecrate her and destroy her, all at once.

Ordinarily, she would have stayed behind and found someone to take home once Hana left. But something compelled her to take to the streets in search of greater thrills this night than a lukewarm lay and a morning of regret. It was probably the drugs.

As she came to the end of the boardwalk, she halted in place. The late night shops selling noodles to drunks and trinkets to tourists all flashed their availability in garish blinking neon. It was going to take more than noodles to fill her emptiness tonight.

Just as she was going to head back to the crossroads to call a skycab, she saw the glint of something new, tucked in among a pawn shop and the place that sold keychains and T-shirts. She’d walked this beat a thousand times and couldn’t remember ever seeing it, so it must be a newer addition.

Deviance.

The word blared at her from the marquee, a single word plastered over an otherwise nondescript black edifice. But there was a line. A big line. Longer than the Gold Club at the other end, where she had come from.

“No room,” the big man out front said as she approached, holding up a hand.

His bald companion, just as huge, swatted him on the arm. “Are you nuts? She’s just his taste. Go ahead, miss,” he said, sweeping his hand for her to jump the line and enter.

Kayla felt a little self conscious, but gave him a smile and pushed through the padded leather doors and into Deviance.

Shriekingly loud dance music played inside. It was a whirlwind of bodies grinding against each other on the dance floor. There was neon everywhere, casting everything in a sumptuous, sinful red light. The black marble floor reflected the scene like calm water, with strips of bloodred lights zigzagging across it as well. There were a few cages on glowing platforms, with go-go dancers wearing next to nothing writhing inside. The air simmered with energy; lustful, carefree energy that seemed to creep right into her veins.

She pushed through the throng of dancers to get to the bar. The bar was always just the right place to start. It took some time for her to make it there, given the density of the patrons. The bartender caught her eye when she was only halfway there, turning with a shake of his head to start mixing something. When she finally made it to the bar, he was already slapping down a cocktail napkin and sliding her a drink.

“Oh, I didn’t--”

“From the boss,” he said, with a tip of his head toward the elevated VIP section of the club. “You’re just his taste.” His repetition of the exact words the bouncer had used made her tilt her head curiously, but she accepted the drink nonetheless.

“So, do I get to meet him?” Kayla asked.

 

[Machiavelli]

Nicholas was a creature of the night, but something a little more interesting than a vampire, romanticized by all those early 21st-century novels and more delicious than a werewolf, where the same thing applied. He was an incubus, demon of desire and lust, a peddler of sin, and here in this neon city, he'd found his calling. Deviance. A black monolith and a well of sin and debauchery behind it.

It drew in the supernatural types from around the planet, and also lured in sweet, sweet prey. And as vampires seduced and dined, and succubi danced, and werewolves prowled, he drank up the delicious sin and lustful energies, while pulling his favorite girls from the night and he delved into sins with young, slim, perky women.

It was later in the evening when a waiter came by and let him know that the bouncers had spotted a girl just his type as she came in.

Nicholas sat in an alcove by one of the main stages used for some of the more adult entertainment they hosted, a large, comfortable chair acting as the sort of 'owner's throne'. It gave him an excellent view of the club, and, more importantly, the slender, cute girl who had just entered, making her way to the bar. He licked his lips slightly, running his hand through dark hair. Slightly curled white horns poked up through the charming mane, and bright, burning, seductive, dark eyes.

Sliding out of his chair, he smoothed the crisp, clean black button-down shirt, his pale skin nearly glowing in the neon lights and pulsing beams that filled the club. Steadily working his way through the crowd, he made his way to the bar, just in time to hear her question.

"You do, darling." He said with a soft laugh, sliding into the bar stool next to her. "I'm Nicholas, and, as I'm sure you've been told..." He reach out, gentle taking her chin in one hand, tilting her eyes up to meet his as he gave her a charming smile. "You're my type." He chuckled before releasing her, that sinfully seductive smirk still on his lips. "And so you drink for free tonight, on me." He added as the bartender placed a cocktail down in front of him.

"So tell me, what brings you to Deviance? What kind of sinful delights are you seeking?"

 

[Lala]

Kayla drummed manicured nails on the textured glass of the drink she had been gifted, though she didn't need to wait long. The bartender's eyes shifted just past her shoulder, lighting with that certain glimmer one gets when someone important has been spotted. She turned just in time to catch him pouring his strong frame onto the stool next to her with a grace that belied his large size.

Her eyes skated over chiseled features, a strong jaw, and a lovely sweep of dark hair that begged for fingers lacing through it. The phrase tall, dark, and handsome had surely been created just for him. Far beyond stunning, his dark gaze was mesmerizing. All that gave her pause were the...horns gracing his crown. But were they really there, or was she simply diving deeper into the grips of a designer MDMA trip? Even if they were, it mattered little. People these days were getting all sorts of designer appendages (including some very intimate ones), hair and eyes that changed color on demand, and other "upgrades" to the human race that had once seemed a thing of science fiction.

As he spoke, he confirmed her suspicions that he was, indeed, the man in charge that everyone had been so certain would like her. She wasn't a shy, wilting flower by any means, but there was something about his manner that made a strip of pink bloom across her cheeks and nose, her eyes cast away from the intensity of that stare when he caught her chin. But he already felt like an addiction, and her attention traced right back to him, to drink in more of those dark eyes and full lips curving in a smile that promised nothing but adventure.

When his hand released her chin, she could still feel the warmth of his fingers on her flesh. His touch, however light and brief, was an intoxicant stronger than anything she'd ever taken. It burrowed into her veins, coursing through her blood, drifting lower, lower, until she let out a slow breath at the burgeoning lust plucking at her core. She leaned forward and quickly took a big gulp of the drink. It was very strong. Something with bourbon. She wasn't sure if it was the bartender or the man who had determined she wouldn't want a frilly girly drink, but cheers to them both. She drained the glass.

"Nicholas," she breathed, her eyes tracing over the shirt he wore that clung to a promise of hard muscle beneath. "I'm Kayla." It seemed silly to shake hands, so she went to take another drink, frowning when she remembered she'd already finished it. "Oh, but I can't accept any more than this. Charity to strangers? It always has a price," she said. She wondered about the price for his charity, and what it meant to be this man's "type."

Her attention strayed briefly to the club when he mentioned it, watching everyone dance feverishly in the red lights like some hellish tableau. The music pulsed almost in rhythm with her heartbeat until it felt like it was inside her, deep, thrumming. Her hands rubbed over the top of the bar, gripping slightly with red-lacquered nails. "I'd never been here before. I usually go to the Gold Club," she said, swinging her gaze back to him.

His presence was like a magnet, drawing her closer with each breath. Her dress was far too short to sit down on a stool without the hem sliding up over the curve of her rear, so she was still standing while he sat. But when she had turned to survey the club, her body had instinctively pressed closer and she found herself almost slotted between his knees. "Oh, I don't sin. I'm a good girl," she lied with a quick smile, hastily drawing back from the alluring club owner she had nearly climbed onto. What was wrong with her?

 

[Machiavelli]

The tall, fit man looked down at the much smaller girl, smiling softly, the devil's tail behind him coiling down the pole of the stool he was on, an addition to his body that might have been mistaken for a biotech upgrade, but rather was perfectly supernatural. Her eyes wandered him, and he saw that tell-tale blush in her cheeks. The way his name sounded on her breath was delightful, and he could see her eyes undressing him as they scanned down his body.

Good.

"Kayla, how delicious." He said softly, voice practically a purr. "A price? Darling, I wouldn't dare suggest that you can be bought with drinks - but that shouldn't stop a man from trying, now should it?" He chuckled, eyes flaring with that hypnotic fire. Even as she said she couldn't accept more drinks, the bartender was already sliding another up next to her, the emptied crystal glass vanishing under the counter.

Nicholas didn't seem even slightly perturbed by Kayla's admission that this wasn't her usual scene, even giving her a slight smile. The competition didn't bother him, and his crowd was... unique. "Well, I'm glad that I haven't missed seeing you here before." he said with a smirk and a wink. "Surely I'd remember." His hand stretched out, sliding along the tight curve of her hip as she stepped near him, as if guiding her between his knees, or into his lap. It didn't push or pull, not yet, but it was a distinct touch of control.

Her smile flashed as she denied any sin, and Nicholas gave her a wide grin, one that might have been described as almost like a predator stalking prey. "Oohhh, a good girl, hm?" He purred, letting her slip away as she withdrew, for now enjoying this game of push and pull. The bartender slipped past, refilling Nicholas's wine glass, which was raised to the man's lips slowly, where he took a long moment, gazing at her, and enjoying the taste of the alcohol. She certainly had the 'good girl' look to her, a sinful cuteness that asked to be defiled and destroyed, a careful perch on the line between sexy and cute that tempted violation and depravity. And, of course, Nicholas was a provider of both.

"Mm, no sin then?" He mused, setting the wine glass aside, smile playing on his lips as those intense eyes refused to leave her. "A good girl, in a place like this. It's almost like you're hoping to meet a sinful devil." He teased, leaning in slightly. His breath ghosted against her lips, and despite his beverage being wine, it smelled faintly of cinnamon and spices, and that lingering heat after rough sex.

"I think you'd make a particularly lovely fallen angel." He uttered softly, one hand reaching back out and sliding to the small of her back, this time pulling her back in toward him.

"Tell me, what sins have tempted you, my good girl?"

 

[Lala]

Kayla was far too entranced by the man's almost ethereally attractive features and smoldering eyes to even notice the devil's tail wrapped around the cold metal leg of the stool. If she had, perhaps it would explain why she could hardly control herself. These things were known to exist - demons, vampires, even werewolves, among other inhuman creatures - but even though a lot of humans with more money than sense liked to augment themselves with fangs or tails, the supernatural beings that roamed Neo York at night still held a great deal of mystique, if not fear, for the humans.

When the bartender slid another drink to her, she readily accepted, far past the whole roadblock about not taking gifts from strangers. The mere brush of his fingers along her hip felt like a jolt of electricity running through her, headed south to the aching valley between her legs, so intense that she had to gulp back a little gasp of surprise by taking a huge sip of her drink. Her palm pressed hard against the bartop, fingernails clutching at the polished surface.

Good gods.

Sober Kayla was going to have to have a talk with drunk and high Kayla tomorrow morning. She had a history of doing questionable things on club nights, and her head was all over the place right now. Especially when Nicholas's gaze seemed to peel her dress right over her head and rake over every inch of her. She let out a slow breath and tried to center herself. There were two ways this night ended: One, she could leave right this second. Pry herself away from those eyes, that chiseled jaw, the powerful hands and charming smile. Or two...

He leaned in and the scent of his cologne and spices wafted over her. She took another drink. When his hand slid behind her, pressing against the soft bare flesh of her back where her dress scooped scandalously low, she drew in a sharp breath. The feel of his fingers on her skin was almost overwhelming. She wanted them to dive lower beneath the scoop of her dress. Or slide around the front and slither up her inner thigh. Or capture one of her breasts in a hand that looked perfectly sized to possess the perky mound fully. She just wanted him to touch her. More. Everywhere.

It would be Two then. Sober Kayla was going to be mad tomorrow. And probably sore.

He needed only give a slight pull with the hold he had on her, and she was stepping between his legs once more. Her hands glided up his firm chest to grip at his shoulders and she sat on one of his thighs, still half-standing with one heel on the bottom rung of the stool. The curve of her hip brushed against the bulge in his pants, not even purposefully, and she swallowed thickly. Her pulse was in her throat, throbbing, pounding, as she focused on the allure before her. She wasn't sure if it was the man or the drugs and liquor, but something felt so different about tonight.

It had to be the man. She had been far more stoned before and hadn't felt like she had to hold herself back from yanking down his pants and going to town right in the middle of a busy club. Her fingers dug into his shoulders. If she was in his lap, she couldn't do anything that stupid. Right?

Her lips parted slightly at the way he purred my good girl. The tip of her tongue darted between them, moistening her plush tiers as the aura around him solidified its hold on her. "You sound like a priest in a confessional," she said, leaning to whisper at his ear. Already there, she could not help herself. And boy, did she try. She caught his earlobe between even white teeth and nipped slightly. "Aren't I supposed to be on my knees for this?"

 

[Machiavelli]

It didn't take much at all to get her moving back to him, the slightest tug and she was sliding back between his knees, the perfect place for her. His fingers danced on her skin at the back of that dress, teasing and toying with the softness there. Her hands slid up to to his chest, clutching softly at the silken white shirt he wore. Her perky ass came to rest on one of his thighs, and he smirked as he felt her hip brush against his bulge. There was plenty there for her, after all - sex demons were always deliciously endowed. And now she seemed perfectly aware of that.

He felt the pulse of eager desire off her now, intense, burning lustful energy. She licked her lips at him and her grinned playfully, that hand now holding her firmly against him, sliding her closer on his thigh so his bulging package pressed right against the curve of her ass. She leaned in, whispering close in his ear, and he laughed deeply. "Oh darling, I'll play the naughty priest if you play the schoolgirl." He teased back, and a quiet growl rumbled in his throat as she teased his ear, her mouth wet and warm.

"Little minx... Certainly feels like you want to sin." He said, his free hand sliding up her inner thigh, not shy about how dangerously far it slid up that sensitive skin toward the apex. "I definitely think you should be on your knees, that's my favorite place for a sexy thing like you. Now, I think confessions are supposed to be heard in private, however... why don't I show you the back of the club? I'm sure there's a nice place where I can hear you tell me all the terrible things you've thought about." His voice was lowered to a dominant, hungry tone. His fingers tightened on her thigh, gripping her firmly, and his other hand slid into the back of her dress, curling slightly around her hip.

His masculine scent and the spicy cologne swirled around him, his sinful power pulsing on his skin and rippling into her body. She was so innocent, so sweet looking, definitely the perfect kind of girl for him to take back and utterly defile. If she thought she was going to just have a quick fuck, she was in for a surprise - he wouldn't be done with her until she was messy and fucked up. The hand on her thigh moved to slide up her body, caressing slowly, firmly, possessively. "It seems only fair that I give a good girl like you a thorough tour of everything that I can offer. After all, sin has so many different delicious flavors."

God, he'd demolish her right here over the bar, but he wanted to be ensure that he got her all to himself. While he didn't mind sharing, tonight he was hungry.

 

[Lala]

Even though she had long ago given in to the effects of the liquor and ecstasy she'd taken, Kayla still had enough sense about her to be immediately flustered by her actions and words. A slow heat brightened her cheeks, standing out against the fawn-colored skin like the embers of a dying fire. Or, in this case, a fire that was rapidly being stoked.

The feeling of an impressive bulge prodding firmly against the round swell of her rear made her draw in a ragged breath. If that was just a hint, a taste, of what he offered, she was more than ready for the seven-course meal. He had already aroused her, there was no question of that, but now it was a nearly uncontrollable need unfurling within her. A dark devil curling wings around her and pulling her close, wrapped in his presence, whispering in her ear to do whatever he wanted. Far, far removed from any of her long line of one-night stand lays whom she had settled on out of boredom or lukewarm want. This, this was need.

So when he teased back, she could do nothing more than dip her delicate chin down, hiding her eyes beneath the wisps of hair that escaped her updo, if only to mask the embarrassment dawning on her cheeks. She had never been demure about wanting someone before, but something about his presence, his demeanor, made her want to curl up at his feet like a puppy, letting him continue to stroke those strong hands slowly over her sensitive flesh. In all her days, she could not recall quite as strong a pull as this. Not toward sadness, nor hate, nor lust - which this surely was. It almost felt like an aura of it must be gliding around her in waves by now, lapping gently at the taut buds stiffening beneath her cocktail dress and teasing the swelling pearl between her legs.

The electric pull of her body toward this man solidified when one of those firm hands wandered up the silken expanse of her thigh. It was too much when his other hand snuck into the back of her dress and wrapped possessively around her hip. Both taking hold of what they wanted. What he wanted. A soft moan slipped from her lips before she could bite them to stifle it, a voiced acceptance of her awakened desire. Her head lolled against his shoulder as though entranced -- and maybe she was -- and her eyes swept shut for a moment, overcome by almost feral arousal.

Her face looked almost serene as pictures of his darkly spoken words danced in her head. Nearly angelic, except for the twitch of a smile at the corner of her lips when he spoke to her of sin, of confession. Yes, she wanted to confess every sin to him. And to discover new ones that would make devils blush.

She opened her eyes. Green eyes fixated on that handsome face, a face no one would ever say no to. A quick glance around the club would reveal other eyes darting toward the enigmatic club owner. The air was thick with desire, and not just from her. Every single woman in the place wanted to be where she was right now, receiving that offer that promised untold pleasures. Some of them were envious, some jealous. The men stared at Kayla, perhaps caught in the swirl of lust that seemed to pipe into the club along with the music. Everyone was surreptitiously glancing their way, though it already felt to her as though they were alone in this back room he was so keen to show her.

The power of the incubus' presence over her was nearly complete. When his hand began to explore her body, moving higher, her breath hitched and she went rigid. Every single touch from this man felt like ecstasy, and not the little pill she had taken before coming here. The heel that was propped on the leg of the barstool slipped off, sliding her thighs apart slightly as though in offering of the bounty between them. Her breaths were shallow and short, her pulse galloping.

"I am a good girl," she finally managed to say; whether it was an insistence on moral uprightness or a promise to be good for him was uncertain. However, any uncertainty of her burgeoning surrender to him surely would vanish in the next moment when she whispered something that could be interpreted two ways, "Take me in back."

 

[Machiavelli]

He could hear her breath get ragged as her ass pressed back against his bulge. She looked like a cute, sweet little angel, perched on his lip, his hand sliding into her dress to grab her like he owned her. She breathed short, shallow breaths, and despite the pounding music, his senses picked up her pulsing, racing heartbeat as her heated body throbbed against him, radiating lust. He drank it in.

Her eyes fixed on him, and he gave her a playful smirk, then her eyes scanned around where others were stealing glances, some jealous, others wanting. Her legs slid apart, and his hand didn't hesitate, pressing firmly between her legs as she spread them ever so slightly.

Even so, however, she assured him that she was a good girl, and he grinned, the smile of a delighted, perverted man who was more than pleased to hear he had an angel in his grasp. "Lucky for you, I love good girls. You're going to be a good girl for me, aren't you?" He purred, voice low, dangerous, and sensual, playing his hand along her hip bone.

Her four words made that grin grow slightly wider, and he leaned in, brushing his lips slowly over hers. "That's what I like to hear, babygirl." He whispered against those soft lips, and then, in a smooth motion, his strong arms lifted her up, tossing her over one shoulder in a fireman's carry. A harsh, playful slap landed on one of her perky ass cheeks as he made his way toward the door to one side of the bar, and a few loud yells and whoops and hollers followed them as he carried his prize out of sight.

He didn't go far, only to a storeroom across the hall. He didn't even kick the door shut, instead just pushing her to the ground on her knees before him, his hand tangling roughly into her hair to jerk her gaze up to meet his.

"I'm not going to be gentle with you. I'm going to take you and break you and use you how I want. And you're going to love it." He told her, his words still in the same seductive tone, but this time laced with a dominant power as his full energy radiated out, his tail flicking around, lacing around her throat like a collar and leash, tip stroking her ear slightly. With a jerk, it drew her close, his hands undoing the button of his pants.

He drew his cock free - a massive, thick, vein-laced perfection with heavy balls to match. As it came free of his pants, it slapped across her face, his tail dragging her to press her cheek against it, even as his hand petted her hair sweetly.

"So, good little girl, are you going to tell me your sins, or will you worship a different way?"

 

[Lala]

Kayla wanted to drop her chin and hide from the sizzling gaze of the man she sat upon. There was something so deviant, something so sinfully dark about the way he looked at her, the way his hands slid up and along her soft flesh to find a possessive grip wherever they fell. She had never before seen such a look in a man's eyes, and it was frightening. Frightening, and impossibly alluring.

At his words, all she could do was gulp back her nerves and nod. She would be a good girl. She would be whatever he wanted tonight.

The brush of his lips over hers earned him a sharp inhale of breath. Her body tensed, overcome by another overwhelming sensation that threatened to plant her squarely in his power. She leaned forward to indulge in a tantalizing kiss, though his swift action to toss her over his shoulder ripped her away from the spicy intoxicant of his lips before she could have them. An almost inhuman grace imbued his every motion, leaving her unprepared for such a thing. She let out a soft yelp of surprise, and wriggled in his grasp as he began to carry her off.

The firm swat against her plush behind silenced her, stilled her. Rosebud lips pursed to a surprised O and her even white teeth caught her lower lip between them in an unintentional moan. The soft flesh impacted by his hand burned, throbbed, making her arousal even more urgent. But they weren't the only cheeks that burned. Hot blood rushed to her face, both from the position of the carry, half-slung over his shoulder, and the raucous cheers chasing them.

They were cheering. Did that mean everyone knew where he was taking her? That this was a common occurrence? The thought had her squirming again on his shoulder, utterly humiliated that the entire club knew the owner was carrying her off for undeniably carnal purposes.

Kayla slid to the group in a heap when he unloaded her, kicking aside a bucket that clanged against the wall with a metallic rattle, knocking over a cluster of brooms that cascaded across each other like dominos. The storeroom was a small space, so tight that the two of them barely fit in together. Cleaning supplies, extra glassware, and other odds and ends filled the shelves that were firmly bolted to the walls on either side and the back. There was a faint odor of bleach, of cardboard.

The fingers coiling tightly into her hair ripped her attention away from the appraisal of her mundane surroundings. She gasped, wide eyes snapping up to his with absolute focus. Her breaths were still short and shallow, the mark of her continued arousal and uncertainty of this novel situation.

"I'm not going to be gentle with you. I'm going to take you and break you and use you how I want. And you're going to love it." His words made her breaths sputter, eager to acquiesce. They resonated through her entire body, which had continuously responded to his touch, his tone.

Her words failed her for a moment. What could she say? She was entirely under his spell. Finally, she managed to force out a husky, "Yes."

With as quickly as he had moved them to the back, she hadn't even noticed his tail. The sudden lash of it around her neck startled her, though her little sound of surprise cut off sharply once he had leashed her with it. The soft, supple flesh of that appendage rippled with his pulse where it tightened around her throat. It was the first time she got the impression that he, too, was as aroused as she was. Though a moment later, he freed his thick cock and erased any doubt of it.

Kayla's mouth dropped open when he revealed himself. That hard, huge length was more than she could have hoped for. Certainly more than she had ever had the pleasure of enjoying. She savored the feeling of him smacking her cheek, the scent of him, the hand in her hair and the tail controlling her position. Before he could even finish his sentence, she surged forward like a woman starved and wrapped her soft lips tightly around his throbbing cockhead.

Lips and tongue worked in concert to messily service that flared tip, lapping over and around the contours as her cheeks hollowed out and she suckled loudly. So enthusiastic was she that she didn't even heed the open door, the exposure to the hallway anyone could come down at any moment. The music of the club thumped beyond the outer walls, muted, like a pulsing heartbeat that matched hers as she sucked the demon's cock like a pro.

She had serviced her fair share in her day, and her skills were always highly lauded. But she really wanted to impress Nicholas. She wanted his praise, his soft words and possessive grip. So she took a deep breath and plunged her mouth down around his shaft to wrap him in the heat of a warm, wet, willing mouth. The sloppy sounds of her frantic blowjob echoed in the small closet.

Glork. Glork. Glork.

Spit glistened on his shaft as she finished her first go at pleasuring him, pulling back until just his cockhead remained in her mouth, and then wrapping her lips tighter to pull off of him with an audible pop. Innocent green eyes peered up at him gauging his response. Well, as innocent as one could be when sucking cock.

Was he pleased? Did he want more? She beseeched him to show her with her gaze, her chin slick with drool already. Eagerly on her knees in front of the dark stranger driving her wild with desire, the spaghetti strap of her cocktail dress sliding down one shoulder and her hair half wild about her face. Her lips poised to take him in once again. To worship the spit-slick shaft bobbing in front of her.