Lachlan held my hand. “Let me buy you a drink.”
After Lachlan delivered my drink, I settled in a quiet corner.
He then whispered something to a burly security guard, and the big man nodded sternly.
“He’ll make sure nobody hits on you.” Lachlan grinned. “I’ve got a tab at the bar, so knock yourself out. Not too much, though.” He leaned into my ear. “I want to make you come until you draw blood.”
I grimaced. “Draw blood?”
“Those fingernails of yours are rather sharp.” His eyebrows rose, and he leaned in close again, making my heart race. “And what’s more, I fucking love it.”
“Oh. I thought you meant you would fuck me so hard that I would bleed.” The thought of that made me burn, for some twisted reason.
“I want to fuck you hard, all right, but not to that extent. Just have you coming on my cock all night.”
My pussy throbbed. Lachlan’s dirty talk was turning me upside down. He planted a soft, warm kiss on my lips.
I indulged in his sexy, purposeful stride, which was emphasized by his jeans, which showed off his long, lean legs and very pinchable ass.
Thumping, wild, and stirring, the music started. Lachlan drove the pelvic-thrusting rhythm. He played like he fucked—hard and skillful. Just like at the Red House, I was mesmerized. Although seated, I moved my body, hypnotized by the beat.
By the gig’s end, women swarmed around Lachlan, even while he packed up. I couldn’t believe how forward they were. He glanced over at me with an apologetic smile. But always the gentleman, he nodded politely, excused himself, then joined me.
“Let’s get out of here. It’s a feeding frenzy,” he said.
Some of the women had followed him, anyway.
I laughed. “You’re not wrong. With those big, sexy arms exposed, you’re radiating animal attraction.”
“My arms?” He grinned. “I would’ve hoped it was my musical talent.”
“That too. But…” I placed my hand in his back pocket and squeezed his firm ass. “You’re sex on legs, Lachlan.”
“And so are you.” He stroked my cheek tenderly. “In a natural, sensual way. My type of woman.”
“That’s nice to know.” I narrowed my eyes. “How often are you working here, again?”
“Not for too long, if I can help it.”
“You don’t enjoy it?” I followed him to the band room.
“As much as I like R and B, as any drummer might, jazz is my passion.”
“This is definitely more of a pounding, primitive style. I loved the complex and colorful rhythms at the other gig you played. But it’s all great.”
“Thanks for noticing my brushwork. I spent years cultivating that technique.” He drew me close, crushing his hard body against mine. “You’re making me fucking hot. Your nipples never seem to go down.” He licked his pillowy lips so suggestively that steam issued from my damp panties.