Page 45 of Cruel Pleasures

Her skin’s so aggravatingly soft, once I have a feel of it, I have to keep going. I simply can’t help myself.

I lean closer, indulge in the flowery arousing scent of her, and make my most daring move of the night. A simple, tender kiss to the patch of skin where her jaw meets her throat. Nuzzling my face against her, my lips linger against her warm flesh, and I feel a tug down below.

The awakening of my dick to the soundtrack of fucking on stage.

I’m restraining myself. Containing myself much in the same manner as Imani herself. But that makes the onslaught of desire no less. It does nothing to quell the hunger I’ve started to feel in the span of forty-eight hours. You’d think I were a man long starved.

As if it’s been weeks or months. Even days.

In reality, I can have any woman I want. The ones all around me—the performers and players, the slutty members like Talia and Olivia—would let me fuck them should I express interest. Yet it’s the woman who’s not even supposed to be here that I want most.

On some kind of deep, raw, carnal level.

The little kisses and flirtations we’ve traded are no longer enough.

I kiss along Imani’s delicate jawline. My arm’s secured around her shoulders. What little interest I had in the live show has been depleted, though I’m vaguely aware another man in a horned mask has climbed onto the stage to join the other two.

Imani’s still watching. She sits tense in her chair, eyes glued to the stage, letting my lips wander. Each breath she takes in shallows. Her chest rises higher in an attempt to gather more air into her lungs.

My attention’s drawn to her large tits and how they practically spill out of the bust of her dress. I’ve been waiting to get my hands—and mouth—on those large titties. More than a fucking handful, yet that’s what makes them so enticing. The things I could do to them would give her some of the most powerful orgasms she’s ever had in her life. I’d have her coming from the intense breast play alone.

Her hand falls to my thigh. Small relative to my size, dainty compared to the muscle she clutches at as she grips my thigh and tenses up. The atmosphere and my kisses have begun to affect her. Turn her on to the point she’s squirming in her chair.

Her nails sink into the fabric of my pants leg, and she finally turns her head toward me. I take her up on her cue, readily capturing her lips for a full kiss on the mouth.

Passion sparks the second her lips touch mine. I take control once they do. I grab her face to keep it close to mine and kiss her with a level of aggression that’s only the beginning. The tip of the iceberg of how I truly intend on devouring her.

She tastes as sweet as she smells. She’s as soft as she looks. Her lips are smooth and warm, pleasantly plump pressed against my own. My tongue teases the full curve of them, then pushes inside her mouth to deepen the kiss. Consume her on another level.

Her breaths go from shallowing out to stalling completely. She’s sinking into the kiss, clawing at me and twisting her body toward mine. By the next flick of my tongue, she’s practically spilling into my lap.

I grab her by the thighs and help her along. I hoist her up out of her chair and pull her on top of me ’til she’s sitting astride me. The weight of her body and suppleness of her curves immediately set my blood on fire.

My dick’s stiff. My balls heavy and full.

I lick at her mouth and realize we’re both breathing like animals. We’re as unfiltered and uncivilized as the three people fucking on stage.

And we haven’t even taken our clothes off yet. We’ve merely been making out like two horny teenagers.

My fingers thread through her short hair, tightening into a fist, and I yank her mouth back to mine for another impassioned kiss. Imani rocks against me in response. The fabric of our clothes separates us and creates a friction that’s cruel and unforgiving. Her pussy right on top of my erection. Her thick thighs pinned at my sides.

White-hot heat scalds me and makes me acutely aware of how I’ve let go. I’ve lost sight of remaining controlled. I’m kissing this woman like I can’t possibly begin to stop.

Except if it’s to fuck.

Finally, with a modicum of sense returning, I pull my lips away from hers. We peer at each other in the dark theater as if we’re drunk on lust. Though I’m high off spice—it’s slowly begun to trickle in, enhancing every squeeze of her thighs and the sweet taste of her.

The urges that won’t be satiated ’til I let the beast out to feed.

“Do you want to try some?” I ask, referring to the spice. I stroke her cheek and push hair behind her ears like a lover would. “It’ll make you feel so good, minxy. Better than you already feel.”

She licks at her lips, thinks for another moment, then hesitantly nods. “Just… just a little.”

“Of course. Here, take the straw. Just take a single inhale. It’ll tingle for a moment, then it’ll settle over you.”

I kiss her jaw reassuringly and hand her the bowl and straw. She eyes it a second longer, as if distantly she recognizes she might be making a bad decision, before she obliges. I watch in mild amusement as she inhales a pinch worth and scrunches up her nose.

“How does that feel?” I kiss her again, then again.