The other women lift their glasses and Naomi calls out. “We won’t cut the cake until you get back.”
Giving a thumbs up, I hurry past the stage, where the bar backs are disassembling the catwalk. Top-Forty country music is playing over the sound system until Ghost Town Double Wide takes the stage for their second set, and a few enthusiastic couples are already spinning around the edge of the dance floor again.
I quicken my pace, wanting to be back before the band starts up again so I can get some more dancing in. It has been way too long since I cut loose on the dance floor.
A minute later, I’m pushing open the door to the manager’s office, ready to grab my gift and head back to the party.
And then I get a good look at what’s waiting for me inside, my jaw drops, and all thoughts of rushing back to the party evaporate faster than ice on a Georgia sidewalk in July.
There, on the left side of the office, wearing nothing but a leather loincloth and some strategically placed Roman Gladiator’s armor, is my husband-to-be. Jamison’s got a shit-eating grin on his face and his bronzed skin is oiled so that every delicious muscle pops, accentuating his already drool-worthy body.
“What have you done?” I ask, grinning so hard I can barely form words.
“I’m your surprise.” He flexes his biceps and shoots his most wicked smolder my way. “Faith and I have been planning it for a week.”
“I thought you were angry about the strippers!”
“All part of my plan, hot stuff.” He prowls across the room to lock the door behind me before taking me by the hand and drawing me over to a chair he’s placed by the desk, near a boom box. “I had to act cranky to throw you off the scent. The scent of…manliness.”
“Oh my God, I can’t believe you.” I snort as he hits play on the boom box and a sultry bump-and-grind, much sexier than the club music the strippers used, fills the room. “You’re the worst! I was so annoyed with you, and it was all a dirty trick.”
“Hush, woman, you know you love me.” He presses me gently into the chair and braces his hands on the back, leaning down until his face lingers inches from mine and his Jamison scent fills my head, making me tingle all over. “Now, are you ready for the lap dance of your life?”
My breath rushes out as he knees my legs apart, making my black skirt rise higher on my thighs and my pulse spike. “I think so. But I have one question first.”
“What’s that?” He nuzzles his face into the crook of my neck, making my nipples tighten and my belly swoop.
“Do I get to touch the merchandise?” I trail my fingertips down his oiled abs to the top of his loincloth, where I tease my nails back and forth along the top.
“I’m counting on it.” He shifts his hips, bringing my hand into intimate contact with where he’s already hard. “Because this show isn’t stopping until I’ve made you come in this chair.” He kisses my neck. “And on the floor.” He drags his teeth over the sensitive skin at my shoulder. “And up against the wall, with this sexy little skirt shoved up around your hips and your panties—”
I cut him off with a kiss so deep and hungry that within moments he’s moaning into my mouth, hooking his hands behind my knees and spreading my thighs even wider. He drops to his knees and dips his face between my legs, pressing kisses up one thigh and down the other, teasing closer and closer to where I’m dying for him to touch me.
Just as I’m about to beg him for mercy, he puts his mouth where I need him, kissing me through my underwear before nipping at my clit, trapping it between his teeth in a way that sends a jolt of hunger through my core.
I call his name, grateful for the music pulsing from the boom box, hoping it’ll be enough to cover the noises I’m about to make.
Because I will be making noise.
I can’t seem to control myself when it comes to his hands, his lips, his tongue…
God, his tongue…
He fists his hand in my panties and jerks them to the side, going to work in earnest, tracing every inch of my slick, swollen flesh before circling my clit with a pressure that makes my head spin. He angles his head, kissing me deep and hard, doing things with his tongue that should probably be illegal but I’m so glad they aren’t.
Within minutes, he has me on the razor’s edge. I’m trembling, aching, threading my fingers through his hair and clinging to him for dear life as I come so damned hard. I squeeze my eyes shut, struggling to hold on as my nervous system threatens to overload with pleasure.