“So, Olivia. If I were to slip my hand between your thighs, would I maybe find your pussy eager to be touched? Or would it be weeping—begging—for me to fill it up? To touch it, lick it, suck on it?”

“Kent,” she breathed, not admitting anything.

“Let’s find out. Give you a little something to hold you over.”

She held my gaze the whole time as I moved my hand between us and slipped it between her thighs, using my fingertips to graze up the inside until I felt her wet heat greeting me. No cotton or lace. Just her wet cunt leaking onto her bare thighs.

“Olivia,” I tsked. “No panties?”

She gasped and thrust her hips as I slipped my finger between her wet folds and rubbed against her hard nub. I rested my hand on the wall by her head and drifted the other lower to her opening, gathering her wetness before moving back up. Her eyes slid closed and her back arched into me. The silk finally gave way and fell from her breast, baring the most beautiful pale nipple I’d ever seen.

Leaning down closer to her like I was going to kiss her, she parted her lips, but I wanted to torture her a bit more. Besides, If I tasted her—swallowed her heaving breaths—I didn’t think I’d be able to stop. Instead, I dropped my head and latched on to her perfect tit just as I shoved two fingers in her wet cunt.

Her moan burned down my spine, igniting a need like never before. Fuck, she was so tight. I couldn’t wait to be inside her. Her hands dug into my hair holding me to her. I moved my thumb up to her clit again and moaned against her flesh as she began riding my fingers. Harder and harder she moved over me until finally she let out a mewling cry and came.

Her wetness coated my hand as she clenched around me again and again. Once she was done, I slowly pulled my fingers from her and unlatched my lips from her breast, scraping my beard along her now rosy tip.

Standing upright again, I held her gaze and licked her cum from my fingers, the sweet tang exploding inside my mouth. Would it be sweeter coming directly from the source?

Just as I’d finished, my wristband began to vibrate.

“That’s our cue,” I said, moving her strap back up over her shoulder, mourning the loss of her breast. I consoled myself that I’d see them bouncing from my thrusts later.

Grabbing her hand, I turned to head toward the rooms, but was stopped when she didn’t move. I looked back at her to find her standing still with her head down. Oh no. No, no, no. She couldn’t have changed her mind. My erection wept at the loss.

“Listen, Kent…”

“If you’ve changed your mind, it’s okay.” I didn’t want her to be nervous that I’d be angry if she bowed out. But before I’d finished giving her an out, she was already shaking her head.

“No. That’s not it. I, um…I have a confession.” I clenched my jaw trying to prepare myself for the worst. “I’m only nineteen.”

I could feel my eyebrows raise, trying to reach my hairline and I stared, processing her words. Nineteen. Nineteen. A fucking teenager. I’d just had my fingers buried in a teenager. That thought alarmed me, but the memory of her taste, of the way she rode my hand, pushed her age to the side.

Did her age really matter? She was an adult and I, in no way was forcing her. So, if she wanted this, then who was I to question her decisions?

But one thing didn’t fit. “How did you get in here.”

“Um…” She looked away again. “My uncle owns the club. So, I know someone who got me in.”

This time, my face didn’t change, but everything in my body dropped to the floor in dread. I was no longer concerned about her age. I was worried about the fact that I’d just fingered my best friend’s niece

Chapter Three


“Is that a problem?”

Kent stood there, his face blank as he blinked, breathing heavy. He hadn’t let go of my hand yet, which I took as a good sign. But he also hadn’t moved to drag me to our private room. The silence stretched on for what seemed like five minutes and each second that passed squeezed my heart a little tighter. I hadn’t realized how much I wanted this—wanted him—until the possibility of him pulling away was laying before me.

“Kent,” I prompted softly.

His eyes slid closed and he heaved a sigh. Fuck, this was it. He was going to pat me on the head, call me a mistake and send me home. Maybe even report me. Tears burned that backs of my eyes from embarrassment.

“Olivia,” he began.

He still hadn’t let go of my hand but stepped into me and lifted my chin so I had to look at him. I wished I could read his eyes, see some hint as to what he was going to say.

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