Give Me More. P.J. Mellor
Drew raised his hand, summoning a waiter. Within seconds they had fruity rum drinks in their hands. Shocked, he watched Maggie drain hers in record time.
“Another?” he asked, signaling their waiter.
“Please.” She smiled.
He watched the pink tip of her tongue swipe the last of the fruity concoction from her lips, wishing he could do the same. Unfortunately in public it would be suicide, jobwise.
A few sips later, she’d once again drained her glass.
“Maybe you should take it easy on those drinks. I know the bartender on duty. He tends to be generous with the rum.”
“Oh, pooh!” She swatted at something and then grinned up at him, her good eye shining. “Less dance! You can tango, can’t you?” Standing a bit unsteadily, she began undulating to the beat and then fell to the side.
He caught her and returned her to an upright position. Maybe dancing was a good idea. It might sober her up.
“Sure, I can tango,” he assured her with a smile. “It’s a job requirement.”
But he’d never tangoed quite like they tangoed.
Maggie threw herself into the dance. Literally. He had to catch her to prevent her from doing a face plant on the dance floor. In his arms, she became boneless. It was like dancing with a gyrating statue of Jell-O.
To free up both his hands, Drew tossed back another drink and set it on the tray belonging to a passing waiter.
Maggie rubbed against him, all but purring. Personally he felt more like roaring. Or howling at the moon. Or both.
He dipped her and then panicked when her short curls all but touched the hardwood floor. He pulled her back up for a sweeping turn.
“You’re a very good dancer, Drew,” she whispered, sending renewed desire ripping through his body. “Among other things.” Her giggle ended on a hiccup.
“You’re not too shabby either.” It was true. Even in her altered state, she followed his every move as if they were connected. Connected. Bad analogy, if the fit of his dress trousers was any indication.
“I need another drink,” Maggie said to their waiter as he walked by. “Make it a double!” she called to his back.
“They don’t make those drinks in doubles, Mag.” Drew executed a series of hip turns and steps to divert her attention.
“S’okay. He can just give me two.” Plucking a rose from the vase of a nearby table, she placed it between her teeth and batted her eyelashes as they danced dramatically across the floor.
Drew noticed the other dancers had stepped back. Whether it was in homage to their dancing or to stay out of their way was a toss-up. He found he didn’t care.
He was having the time of his life.
Too many drinks to count later, Maggie jumped from her chair and dragged Drew back out onto the dance floor. Her lips were numb, but the restless feeling had to be assuaged.
Or else she might do something really naughty, like strip herself and Drew bare and have her wicked way with him right out there on the dance floor. Hmmm. Naked ballroom dancing. It definitely appealed. She glanced at the other couples at their table. True, naked ballroom dancing was right up there on her list of fantasies, but not with an audience.
A slow ballad played, giving her an excellent excuse to cozy up to Drew’s hard body. Beneath his jacket, she slid her hands around to discreetly palm his butt. Buns of steel, and all mine.
“Excuse me? What did you say?” His breath fanned her ear.
Oh, no, did I actually say the buns thing out loud? She licked her lips and smiled up at him. “How ’bout another drink?”
“They just announced last call.” He shrugged and pulled her closer, his erection evident, even through all the layers of their respective clothing.
Bumping and rubbing against him, she felt his heart thundering against her ear.
“Is it hot in here?” Her nipples ached beneath the thin layer of silk. And between her legs was a growing ache only Drew could relieve.
Their eyes met.
Drew swallowed. “Sure is. And it’s getting hotter every second.”
Now swaying more than dancing in order to attain maximum rub, they locked together, staring eye to eye, breathing accelerated.
“Let’s go back to my room and get naked,” she suggested with a little shimmy against his hard chest. “Maybe a dip in the grotto will help cool us off.”
His nostrils flared, firm lips flattened. “I doubt it. But it’s worth a shot.” He glanced around at the dwindling passengers. “I have to stay until they close.” He nuzzled her hair, further increasing her heart rate. “Stay with me.”
“No problem.” She snuggled against him and felt the rhythmic sway of his body, following blindly. Was it possible to dance in your sleep?
No doubt about it, she had to get some physical gratification. Soon.
Her gaze swept the room, empty except for a few couples at the bar. Did she dare make a move?
One look at Drew’s smoldering gaze told her: she dared.
All it took was a slight readjustment and her breasts were freed from the sundress bodice. A flick of a few middle buttons on Drew’s shirt provided enough skin for perfect alignment.
He pulled her closer still. Breast to breast—well, okay, breast to upper abdomen—was a lovely way to dance. It amazed her to think of all she’d been missing over the years.
Her hand slid between them to discreetly unzip Drew’s trousers.
“Maggie,” his voice warned in her ear, “behave.”
The warning was obviously for show because she noted that his abdominal muscles contracted for easier access. So…she accessed.
Drew’s breath hitched when Maggie’s hot hand cupped his rampant erection. Now what? He glanced down and was somewhat relieved to see that his coat hid her activities. Her hard nipples rubbing against his skin sent him into overdrive. Just when he thought he might survive the evening and remain employed, she unzipped him and slipped her hand beneath his boxers. Concentrate. He had to concentrate on not thrusting into her soft hand. If anyone knew what they were doing out there, he would definitely lose his job.
The song ended, and the band began packing up.
In Maggie’s hand, his cock throbbed with each beat of his excited heart.
To his horror, she began to step away. He jerked her flush against his body.
“We can’t just walk away!” He nodded toward the band and cleanup crew. At her confused look he explained, “We’re exposed, Maggie. If we don’t want the whole world to know what we’ve been doing out here, we need to dance to your room.”
“Won’t that look a little weird?” To his disappointment, she tucked her delicious breasts back into her dress. “There.” She grinned up at him. “Now to get you, um, back where you belong.”
It was a stretch, but his boxers more or less covered him. They weren’t so lucky with his pants. Maggie pushed and shoved, generally making him harder with her attempts.
“Stop,” he hissed in her ear. “You’re making it worse!”
“But I—”
“Unless you want me to come in your hand, please stop rubbing me like that.”
“Oh.” She raised her eyebrows and gave a little smile. “Dance?”
“Dance.” He nodded and moved toward the nearest door.
On