Duh.
I nodded.
And that was what they’d been waiting for because Bartender put his hands on the back of the chair and tipped it back, then back a little more until I was at a forty-five-degree angle.
I gasped at the feeling of falling backwards, but he’d only angled me enough so that… Oh. My. God.
Angled so that I was tilted up and Mr. Big could see right up my skirt. With my legs spread, he could easily see my panties.
His eyes dropped there. There! My pussy clenched and I was instantly thankful I had on pretty underwear.
The crowd went wild, watching. Two men who’d been serving drinks were doing very naughty things with a woman from the audience. Me! Since I was sideways to them, the audience couldn’t see anything, but knew exactly what was going on. Could watch every expression on Mr. Big’s face as he looked at my panty-covered pussy.
“Tell me, angel,” he said. His voice was deep and rough. “Is that damp spot on your panties because of us?”
I flushed, realizing he was right. I was wet, wet enough that the gusset of my lacy panties was clinging to me. I could only imagine that the skimpy fabric barely covered my swollen lower lips, that the lace- trimmed thin silk was probably transparent now.
I bit my lip, nodded. This was so hot. The hottest thing that had ever happened to me and he was only staring at my panty-covered pussy. I could only imagine what he’d do if he actually touched it. Or licked it. Or put that big dick of his in it. Nice and deep. I clenched, wondering how it would even fit.
“Good girl,” Bartender said into my ear. “Getting all wet for us. Getting all wet for our hard cocks. And we are hard, baby, just for you.”
I flushed hot from head to toe, close to coming from just this very erotic bit of foreplay. They hadn’t kissed me, hadn’t touched me in any way other than their hands on my shoulders and ankles.
Mr. Big leaned in, his face now right between my parted thighs, inches from my pussy. He inhaled, nostrils flaring, eyes widening because I knew he could pick up my scent. I was wet enough for it. He grinned. “Oh yeah, that pussy’s sweet.”
His hands slid up my lower legs to my knees—thankfully I’d shaved in the shower this morning—and pushed them a little wider. He was so much bigger than me, including his hands, that his fingertips practically brushed the lacy edge of my panties. My skirt didn’t hide anything from him. He could see almost all of my needy pussy, clearly outlined by my clinging little panties. Even I could see that as I looked down.
I knew I should be stunned. Scared, perhaps, by their blatant boldness. But I wasn’t scared. Nervous, yes, because nothing like this had ever happened to me. Ever. But, strangely, I felt safe. As if they knew what I wanted, knew how far to push me. They somehow knew I needed to be held down, to give over to them. They knew exactly what I wanted. No, what I needed.
They knew I was horny and eager for it.
The song ended, probably pre-programmed for when the cowboy stripper’s act was to finish. Another stripper came out onto the stage but remained off to the side, watching. He winked at me, just like the other stripper had. It seemed I was the latest act.
“I don’t share,” Mr. Big said, bringing my gaze back to his as his fingertips brushed my panties then. The heat of it, the feel of him being right there, but not touching my clit or slipping inside had me gasp, lift my hips. I was close to coming and I wanted more.
“Except with me,” Bartender added.
“What I want to do to you doesn’t involve an audience.” A finger tapped my clit once and I was lost. I’d do whatever they said, whatever they wanted, even if it were here on stage as long as they made me come.
“Okay,” I said instantly.
From one second to the next, Mr. Big had me up out of the chair and tossed over his shoulder. I grabbed hold of my glasses before they clattered to the floor.
The ladies screamed in excitement, clearly happy with the change in the show line-up and thrilled someone from the audience was being carted off by not one, but two hot men.
All I saw was a tight ass beneath a pair of snug jeans, felt a hand on my upper thigh… beneath my jean skirt, fingers once again very close to my pussy. All I could think was… MORE.
Ava had wanted me to get back out there. I’d say I had.
4
JED
“You know what I thought when I saw you at the bar?” I asked when Duke carefully lowered Kaitlyn to her feet. Her jean skirt had ridden up as he’d carried her off the stage, down the back hall and into my office. I closed—and locked—the door behind us. The music was only a dull vibration here, the air cooler. What mattered was that we were alone.
Leaning against the door, I enjoyed watching the way she tugged her skirt down over her lush ass and shapely thighs in a somewhat shy gesture considering Duke had had her spread wide on a fucking stage. From my view over her shoulder, I’d seen the way the lips of her pussy had been outlined by the wet, clingy silk of her panties, meaning she was into us.
Only that tiny scrap of material had kept us from seeing how eager and swollen she was. And now she was covering herself up. As if we’d ever forget what was beneath the skirt. The prim little thing had a liking for sexy underwear and an inner fucking vixen she kept all buttoned up. I wanted to let her out. All the way out.