When the song ended, a new song came on, but she didn’t start singing this one. Instead, without moving her head from his chest, she said huskily, “So, what are you doing here, preacher man? Are you here for the alcohol? The drugs? Sex? All of it?”
“Ruston,” he rasped, wanting to hear her say his name.
“Ruston,” she repeated after him, mimicking his tone.
“I was here with a friend. He left, I think.” Ruston didn’t even care anymore; Thomas was old enough to take care of himself.
“Why didn’t you leave?” She asked the question he had been asking himself.
“I was going to, but then I heard you singing. I had to stay. You have a beautiful voice, Hazel.” They swayed back and forth.
“No, I don’t. I just like to sing sometimes.” Her words were almost too quiet to hear over the music, but then she started quietly singing the song that the band was playing.
Swaying in a bedroom of a stranger, all he felt was that this was perfect. That all that had happened in his life had led him to this moment, this place. This woman.
As the song ended on a low, sad note, he felt her go still as the band stopped playing. Just holding her in his arms, he had a disconcerting feeling he wanted to kiss her, needed to kiss her. But before he could make a move, she pulled out of his arms as a fast song started up. She started to dance with fast, rhythmic movements that seemed so natural for her and said, “I love this song.”
Ruston couldn’t tell if he had heard the song before or not. He just stood there trying to decide if he could even dance like she was dancing; he wanted to, but he knew it wasn’t as easy as she made it look. After all, she had been right—he had no rhythm.
“Come on, Ruston, dance. Don’t make me dance alone.” She moved around the room.
“I don’t really know how to dance fast,” he admitted.
At his words, she stopped in the middle of the room and walked back to where he stood. “Well, first, you look like a preacher man. A little too uptight.” She grabbed the button-up shirt he wore and pulled it free from his jeans. Then she unbuttoned the two buttons on top. “There.”
“Will that make me dance better?” he teased.
“No, but it will make you not look so out of place.” Then she looked into his eyes, and with a sly smile, she reached up and ran her hands through his hair. Cocking her head, she did it again. “Not so uptight now.”
With her hands still in his hair, her small body was pressed tight to his. Her every curve pressed into him as those hazel eyes held his while she pulled his head down to hers. Sliding his eyes from hers to her lips, he watched her bite down on that delicate, plump lower lip as she brought his head the rest of the way to her lips.
No gentle kiss for Hazel, he realized immediately as her tongue plunged through his parted lips. Electricity ran through his body as he pulled her tight to him. Had it been so long since he had actually kissed a woman that he instantly needed to feel more of her? Have more of her?
His hands slid up from her waist to her hair—he needed to touch the blonde spikes. To his surprise, they were softer than he had imagined they would be. With his hands on her head, he tilted it so he could have better access to her mouth as their tongues battled.
Feeling her hands leave his hair, she slipped them under his untucked shirt. Over his stomach and chest, they slowly slid, raking her fingernails across his skin as she moved. At his shoulders, she switched directions and sent the nails down his body in the same way they had come.
He knew he needed to stop right now, but the feelings flooding him were overruling his head. Months of celibacy and this woman in his arms won out, and with a groan of defeat, his hands slid from her hair to her shoulders. Then, without thought of what he was doing, he slipped the thin shoulder straps of her tank top and bra strap over her pale shoulders and slid them down her arms. Pulling back from the kiss, his lust-fueled eyes focused on her breasts as they came into view, pink nipples already peaked, temping him to touch. Giving in, he ran a thumb over each one at once and was rewarded by her moan of pleasure.
His mind returned for a moment, and he knew he should stop—had to stop—but when she leaned back, shoving her breasts more into his hands, he decided to wait a moment longer. Enjoy the pale, perky globes for just a bit longer since they were a perfect fit for his hands.
Needing just a simple taste, he leaned down and took one of her nipples into his mouth. Circling it over and over with his tongue, he felt her hands in his hair again. Somehow, she had freed her arms from the sleeves of her tank top and bra and had her hands in his hair, holding his head as if she needed it.
With force, she lifted his head away from her breasts and back to her lips as she plunged her tongue into his again. His hands going to her hips, he ground his ridged cock into her.
Ruston, stop this, his mind said, but his body was overriding his mind as her hand slid under his shirt again. Her nails bit into his skin, and he groaned, mind lost.
Tearing her mouth from his again, she buried her head in his neck and bit down lightly, kissed the spot, and then raised up on her toes and bit his ear lobe. His complete focus was on what her mouth was doing to him, which made him miss what her hands were up to. Until her small hand closed over his cock, hot and firm. Hissing out a breath, he swore as her hand ran from base to tip and back again ever so slowly. Her hand did it again as she plunged her tongue back into his mouth.
All senses were focused on what her hand was doing that he could barely concentrate on the kiss. Her hand motions started to increase, and all he could do was close his eyes, lean his head back and moan. When she stopped abruptly, her thumb caressed the tip, and he hissed a curse. It was then that he felt her tongue replace her thumb as it slid over the tip, and then she blew on it.
He was completely lost as she pushed his pants down until they were at his knees. There was nothing that could make him leave this room right now; his job be damned, he was staying. He was hers as she took him fully into her mouth.
Cursing again, he let her push him over, and he fell flat on his back on the bed behind him. Her mouth never left his erection, never stopping the steady caress of her lips and tongue. On his back, all he focused on was her mouth and watching that spiky hair.
Closing his eyes, he focused on not coming in her mouth, something that he was surprised he could even control anymore. He was out of practice, but she wasn’t. As if she could feel he was losing the battle, her mouth gave his tip one last swirl, and she replaced it with her hand again. With slow and steady caresses again, he was getting back some control, so he opened his eyes and pushed up on his elbows, wanting to see Hazel again, needing to see what she was going to do next. Instead, he was met with the scene and sensation of her sliding him into her hot, wet folds. Slowly, he watched as his erection disappeared under her hiked-up leather skirt. The tight, wet feel of being inside her made him swear.
“You say a lot of dirty words when you fuck, preacher man.” Her voice was raspy as she started to rock her hips.