matching silk tie. Recklessly stylish.
He towered over her by a good six inches, even in her high
heels. Annabelle was instantly captivated, instantly turned-on.
“Doesn’t seem to be any more room on the dance floor,” he
said, his eyes alight with invitation. For just a dance, or did he have more to
offer? she wondered.
He added, “Guess we’ll have to make do with this little
space we’ve carved out for ourselves.”
“Guess so.” She groaned inwardly. Christ, could she think of
nothing interesting or provocative to say? Nothing witty or seductive?
No, it seemed her mind had shut down, blocking all
intelligent thought. Her libido had clearly taken over, because all Annabelle
could think about was how amazingly sexy Eric was and how incredibly good it
felt to be in his arms. Well, she had more on her mind than that. This was her
inaugural night out as a single woman. She hadn’t come looking for love or even
a good fuck, but was now rethinking her position on that latter notion.
By no means was Annabelle a one-night-stand kind of woman.
But she was suddenly willing to reconsider that conviction as Eric tightened
his arms around her and all but crushed her body to his hard one. Her own arms
circled his neck as she stared up into deep green eyes that sparkled with
mischief. This guy had erotic thoughts on his mind, no doubt about it.
Annabelle’s nipples tightened at the prospect of being the star of some of
those wicked ruminations.
As the music morphed into a slow, sexy tune spotlighting
muted trumpets, her body responded instantly. Her breasts were pressed just below
the hard ledge of Eric’s pectoral muscles. Their lower bodies melded together
and their legs practically entwined as they merely shuffled about the floor.
“You are seriously pretty,” he told her. “I saw you the
moment you walked through the door. Couldn’t take my eyes off you.”
Annabelle’s breath caught. In addition to it being much too
long since she’d gotten laid, it’d been a horrifically long time since a man as
gorgeous as this one had complimented her. And with such sincerity glowing in
his warm eyes.
“Thanks,” she merely mumbled, her stomach flipping, her
pulse racing.
“You’re not with someone, are you?” he asked.
“My friend Yvette. Who has clearly ditched me.”
One dark blond eyebrow lifted. “You’re not…?”
Annabelle laughed. “Gay? No. I’m straight and recently
divorced.” As an afterthought, she asked, “You?”
He grinned down at her. A casual lifting of one corner of
his mouth that was half-assed and sexy as hell. “Not gay. Not married. Not in a
relationship. I work a lot.”
“What do you do?”
He bent his head to hers and said in her ear, “I’ve got a
show in Vegas. Strength acrobatics.”
Annabelle thought that was just about the coolest thing
she’d ever heard, being from the suburbs of Connecticut where nobody did
anything interesting, except occasionally grow a flower hybrid that took first
place at the annual Green Garden Festival.
“That sounds exciting,” she said to Eric.
He gave a noncommittal shrug, then said, “It’s a living.”
Gorgeous and modest. She liked him more and more. And he
certainly had the body for strength acrobatics, whatever the hell that term
actually meant. The word “strength” was what she latched onto. His broad
shoulders and wide chest gave way to a tapered waist and long legs. From head
to toe, he was huge and hotter than hell. Making Annabelle wonder if God had
graced him with more than just thick limbs.
Oh it was pure torture to be sexually deprived! She suddenly
couldn’t stop thinking about how massive his cock might be. How long and thick.
How hard.
Nor could she stop herself from thinking of how erotic it
would be to have him slowly thrust into her pussy, filling and stretching her.
Stroking her. Fucking her in ways her husband, Barry, had never even
considered.
Annabelle let out a long-suffering sigh. She needed
He towered over her by a good six inches, even in her high
heels. Annabelle was instantly captivated, instantly turned-on.
“Doesn’t seem to be any more room on the dance floor,” he
said, his eyes alight with invitation. For just a dance, or did he have more to
offer? she wondered.
He added, “Guess we’ll have to make do with this little
space we’ve carved out for ourselves.”
“Guess so.” She groaned inwardly. Christ, could she think of
nothing interesting or provocative to say? Nothing witty or seductive?
No, it seemed her mind had shut down, blocking all
intelligent thought. Her libido had clearly taken over, because all Annabelle
could think about was how amazingly sexy Eric was and how incredibly good it
felt to be in his arms. Well, she had more on her mind than that. This was her
inaugural night out as a single woman. She hadn’t come looking for love or even
a good fuck, but was now rethinking her position on that latter notion.
By no means was Annabelle a one-night-stand kind of woman.
But she was suddenly willing to reconsider that conviction as Eric tightened
his arms around her and all but crushed her body to his hard one. Her own arms
circled his neck as she stared up into deep green eyes that sparkled with
mischief. This guy had erotic thoughts on his mind, no doubt about it.
Annabelle’s nipples tightened at the prospect of being the star of some of
those wicked ruminations.
As the music morphed into a slow, sexy tune spotlighting
muted trumpets, her body responded instantly. Her breasts were pressed just below
the hard ledge of Eric’s pectoral muscles. Their lower bodies melded together
and their legs practically entwined as they merely shuffled about the floor.
“You are seriously pretty,” he told her. “I saw you the
moment you walked through the door. Couldn’t take my eyes off you.”
Annabelle’s breath caught. In addition to it being much too
long since she’d gotten laid, it’d been a horrifically long time since a man as
gorgeous as this one had complimented her. And with such sincerity glowing in
his warm eyes.
“Thanks,” she merely mumbled, her stomach flipping, her
pulse racing.
“You’re not with someone, are you?” he asked.
“My friend Yvette. Who has clearly ditched me.”
One dark blond eyebrow lifted. “You’re not…?”
Annabelle laughed. “Gay? No. I’m straight and recently
divorced.” As an afterthought, she asked, “You?”
He grinned down at her. A casual lifting of one corner of
his mouth that was half-assed and sexy as hell. “Not gay. Not married. Not in a
relationship. I work a lot.”
“What do you do?”
He bent his head to hers and said in her ear, “I’ve got a
show in Vegas. Strength acrobatics.”
Annabelle thought that was just about the coolest thing
she’d ever heard, being from the suburbs of Connecticut where nobody did
anything interesting, except occasionally grow a flower hybrid that took first
place at the annual Green Garden Festival.
“That sounds exciting,” she said to Eric.
He gave a noncommittal shrug, then said, “It’s a living.”
Gorgeous and modest. She liked him more and more. And he
certainly had the body for strength acrobatics, whatever the hell that term
actually meant. The word “strength” was what she latched onto. His broad
shoulders and wide chest gave way to a tapered waist and long legs. From head
to toe, he was huge and hotter than hell. Making Annabelle wonder if God had
graced him with more than just thick limbs.
Oh it was pure torture to be sexually deprived! She suddenly
couldn’t stop thinking about how massive his cock might be. How long and thick.
How hard.
Nor could she stop herself from thinking of how erotic it
would be to have him slowly thrust into her pussy, filling and stretching her.
Stroking her. Fucking her in ways her husband, Barry, had never even
considered.
Annabelle let out a long-suffering sigh. She needed
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