Body Moves. Jodi Lynn Copeland
her tongue and teeth and made his heart and cock hammer in tandem.
She made her way to the rear of the cart, hips swinging in seductive time with each step. She traded the nine iron for her sand wedge and then came to stand in front of him. “Normally, I would say no. I like you, and I love the way your eyes are the same turquoise blue as the sea, so just this once I’m going to say yes.”
Her palm came out. Part of Jordan hoped she wouldn’t accept the money, but the second he set the bills in her hand, she scooped them up. The top buttons of her short-sleeve black-and-white striped shirt came undone with the twist of her fingers. The sides parted to just above her navel. Milk-white cleavage rose generously from a bra the same shade of purple as her panties.
Flashing a brazen smile, she stuffed the money beneath the strap joining the cups of her bra. “Sure you don’t want to throw in another five hundred and be the first to witness the alternative use for a three wood? It’s a one-time offer at that rock-bottom price.”
His dick jumped against his zipper. Things had passed well beyond the “getting to know her better” zone. If he had another five hundred on him, he knew he would be forking it over and not entirely for the sake of proving her immoral. Fuck, not even close to entirely.
Jordan nodded at the bills sticking out from above her bra strap. “I’d love to.” The edge in his voice was as hard as the rest of him. “That’s all the cash I have.”
“In that case”—her hands came to his chest, and she shoved him back onto the bench seat—“sit back and relax. Things are about to get good.”
Kicking off the golf shoes she kept stored in the clubhouse, Danica brought her bare left foot up on the side of the cart. The skirt skated an inch up her thighs. He held his breath for another five inches to follow. The skirt didn’t budge. The movement of her hands more than made up for it.
Gripping the sand wedge near the top of its aluminum shaft, she ran the rubber end along the inside of her thigh, traveling slowly, sensuously higher, until the rubber grip disappeared beneath her skirt.
The subtle rasp of rubber against cotton screamed through his ears. On a hiss of breath, her eyes went wide, darkening to solid smoky gray. The rasp came a second time, and her hips arched toward him, as if seeking out his face, his lips, his tongue. Her foot slid higher on the side of the cart. The skirt hitched up her thighs.
One inch.
Two inches.
Jordan’s heart beat a wild tattoo. His fingers curled and uncurled with the want to shove the skirt up to her waist and uncover the erotic show happening below.
The bucking of her hips stopped. She jerked the club from her skirt and leaned it against the side of the cart. He sucked in a hard breath. That wasn’t the goddamned show. She would not end it so fast. Not without getting off.
Five hundred had better buy him the right to watch her orgasm.
He didn’t have a chance to voice the words before Danica stepped back from the cart and removed her panties. They teased from beneath her skirt and came down her legs as a silky caress. She outstretched her fingers and stroked them along her pale, glistening skin, pushing the sodden purple lace to her ankles.
She bent fully to step free of the panties. Her breasts pressed together, one of the bills slipping to the grass and tumbling away on the breeze. It could have been a ten. Just as likely a hundred. He didn’t give a damn. All his attention was focused on her breasts, waiting, hoping, praying her ample tits would pop out of the top and she would somehow work them into her show.
She straightened. Her breasts moved back into place still secured within her bra. He was disappointed for the two seconds it took for her to retrieve the sand wedge.
Her foot returned to the side of the cart, the club’s rubber-coated handle between her thighs. The skirt had settled back into place with the removal of her panties, concealing even her upper thighs from his view. The skirt was no match for sound.
Jordan’s blood thrummed with the slurping sound of the handle entering her pussy. Danica’s chin lifted while her eyelids drooped. Her lips parted on a pant, her breasts rising and falling rapidly. “Ah…yeah,” she sighed. “There’s nothing like the feel of hot, hard rubber filling me up. Nothing like being fucked by this big bad boy.”
His cock pulsated with each upward thrust of the club. Each slick sound of her cunt accepting the thick handle inside. Each deliciously throaty gasp tripping from her blood-reddened lips.
He fisted the edge of the seat, clinging for control. “Lift up your skirt.”
The club stilled. Her chin came down. Their eyes met. The lust in her gaze was raw and burning. “How much?”
Whatever she wanted…if only he had the money. “I told you I don’t have any more cash on me.” The words growled out.
She considered his face a few seconds and then looked at his fisted hands. Her eyes gleamed. “Pet your dick while you watch me. Don’t let yourself come until I say so, and we’ll consider your debt paid in full.”
Jordan sent a look around. They were hidden from view up here, and she’d insinuated the course belonged to her alone.
With a nod, he uncurled his hands from the seat, unbuttoned his shorts, and carefully jerked down the zipper. He eased off the seat far enough to tug his shorts and boxers down his thighs. His cock sprang free, jutting up hard, throbbing, and deep purple.
Danica’s tongue rimmed her lips as she eyed his erection. “Nope. No phalloplasty needed there.”
Keeping her eyes trained on his dick, she removed her skirt. He caught a glimpse of fire red curls glistening with her essence in the sunlight, and then the handle of the sand wedge was hovering centimeters from her swollen cunt. She returned her foot to the cart. Every ounce of air in her lungs seemed to screech out as a throaty cry when she guided the club handle inside her pussy.
He grabbed hold of his cock out of desperation, stroking it in a method meant to ease his aching need to explode. The sight of her juicy pink folds devouring the black handle was too erotic for words. Still, he tried in a voice so thick he could barely understand himself. “Christ, you’re beautiful. I would have paid triple to see this.”
She tipped her hips toward his face, opening her sex as wide as her stance allowed. Far enough for him to watch the rubber taunt her clit with each pass. Far enough to seep her cream along the handle and down the club’s shaft. Far enough to have Jordan’s dick ready to burst despite his agreement with Danica not to come without her permission and his attempts to waylay his orgasm.
“Do you want to help me?” she purred. “I let my past customers help. It feels so much better not knowing when the shaft’s going to move inside you.” She shoved the club handle deeper inside, her moan punctuating the words. “Whether it’s going to take you slow or fuck you so hard you can’t stop from screaming.” She decreased and increased the slide of the sand wedge, her pelvis shifting with each shove, her shallow cries becoming quiet shouts of ecstasy.
“How many past customers?”
She laughed loudly and huskily, in a way that said she was too far gone with passion to control the sound. “Too many to count. A place like this takes a lot of money to keep up.” The timing of the club went wild. Her hips gyrated riotously, juice streaking along her thighs in a seemingly endless flood.
The heady scent of her musk filled his senses and sizzled his blood. “Last chance to help, Jord—Oooh, God. Too late.”
Jordan’s fingers closed hard around his dick, fighting off his climax as he watched orgasm roll through her. Rapture claimed her features, parting her mouth wide, narrowing her eyes, flushing her cheeks crimson.
Her thighs gave a last tremble, and her pussy erupted, cascading cream along the thrusting club as she screamed her elation.
He thought jealousy had made him assume the worst about her. Thought she would never be the type to