Left Field (New Hope #4)

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Blake

Brigid slips the sleeves of her gown off her arms, the lacy fabric catching on her hard nipples, preventing it from bearing her further. I bow my head, biting one of her breasts, flicking my tongue on the erect bud. She arches her spine, and I grip her tiny waist in my hands, guiding her into me.

Mine is the second crown to tumble to the floor, rolling to join hers by the rug. My cloak splays out around us, like a pool of ink on the white marble. Brigid's legs are wrapped beneath it, gripping my hips with fervor. She's so warm, so alive, so very here. I can't stop touching her, licking her, biting her.

Her mouth opens with a sigh, and I claim it with my own. Her tongue darts out, tentatively exploring. I slide mine against hers, savoring her sweet taste. She moans, rocking her sex into my groin. My cock throbs, begging to be released from my zipper. I continue to grind against her hot core, watching goosebumps erupt beneath the miniature starfish dotting her shoulders. Precum drips from my erection, enough to make my underwear wet.

Brigid reaches between us once more, something sharp and metallic snagging against the buttons on my shirt. A moment before she draws blood, I realize the problem.

"Claws, claws, claws," I chant, reminding her she's wearing titanium weapons on her fingers.

"Oops!" she exclaims, ripping them off. "That would've been bad."

"Yeah," I agree, returning her hand to where it was. She cups me through my pants, then fumbles for the zipper. "From what I remember, we're both fond of this appendage."

"Yes," she hisses, freeing my aching cock.

She slides her fingers along the silken skin, eliciting tremors throughout my body. I drop my head, sucking on the pulse in her throat. It usually causes her to giggle—unless she's horny. Then it drives her mad with lust.

She twists her neck, giving me better access. Her grip on me tightens, forcing more precum to dribble out. I groan, nipping her earlobe with my front teeth. My hips begin moving of their own accord, rocking into her smooth palm.

"I'm gonna come if you keep this up," I warn, my spine snapping with electricity.

"Spread it all over my pussy," she demands, her pupils blown with arousal. "Then finish again inside me."

I grin, wondering how the hell I got so lucky to capture this woman for a third time. "Dirty, dirty gir—"

A clatter in the kitchen, followed by a series of shushes, stalls our movements. We stare at each other, wide eyed, before I remember.

"The caterers," I whisper.

"Oh, no!" Brigid squeals, releasing me. "They never left!"

I straighten her dress, then stuff my weeping cock into my pants. Clambering to my feet, I hold out a hand to assist Brigid. She takes it, a blush visible beneath the smeared glitter on her face. And if she's smeared, I can only imagine how poorly my skeleton makeup is faring.

"Go to my room," I suggest, deciding to tuck my dick into my waistband. It's not going to stay down. "I'll get rid of them, then meet you there."

She nods, turning to the stairs. I run a hand through my hair as I pace to the kitchen. I walk through the double doors, pretending not to notice the fact that two young women had their ears pressed against them. Upon seeing me, the remaining five servers and one chef busy themselves, rinsing dishes and placing food in plastic containers.

"Thank you for your services," I tell them, clearing my throat. "You've been paid in full, but please have the rest of the night off. If you haven't eaten, feel free to take as much food as you'd like."