After We Fell (After 3) - Chapter 185

I’m thankful for the way we’re sitting. Well, the way I’m sitting. She’s standing between my legs, her back toward me, but I can see her face when I slightly lean back against the bar behind me. The low red lighting in the place, the champagne, and her being . . . her, makes her glow. It’s impossible not to watch her smile and stare at the stage. I can’t even be jealous, because she’s just that . . . beautiful.

As if she can read my mind, she turns around and gives me an eager smile. I love seeing her this way, so carefree . . . so young. I need to make her feel this way more often.

“They are good, right?” She nods along to the slow yet edgy sound.

I shrug. “No.” They aren’t terrible, but they sure as hell aren’t good.

“Shurrrr.” She exaggerates the word and turns back around. Moments later, her hips begin to sway along to the whining voice of the lead singer. Fuck.

I move my hand down to the curve of her hip, and she backs into me, still moving. The tempo of the song speeds up, and Tessa does the same. Holy fuck.

We’ve done a lot of shit . . . I’ve done a lot of shit, but I’ve never had anyone dance on me this way. I’ve had girls and even a few strippers give me a lap dance, but not like this. This is slow, intoxicating . . . and achingly fucking hot. My other hand moves to her other hip, and she turns slightly to place her glass on the bar top. With her hands empty, she gives me a salacious smile and looks back to the stage. She lifts up one hand and runs her small fingers through my hair and places the other hand on top of mine.

“Keep going,” I beg.

“You sure?” She tugs at the roots of my hair.

It’s hard to believe that this seductive girl, wearing a short, black dress, swaying her hips, and tugging my hair, is the same girl who spits her champagne when I talk about fucking her chest. She’s such a turn-on.

“Yes, fuck,” I breathe and lift a hand up to the nape of her neck, bringing her ear to my mouth. “Move against me . . .” I squeeze her hip. “Closer.”

She does just that. I’m thankful for my height as I sit on the bar stool, the perfect height for her ass to move against me, hitting the exact spot that aches for her.

I pull my attention from her, only for a second, to scan our surroundings. I don’t want anyone else watching her dance.

“You’re so sexy right now,” I say against the shell of her ear. “Dancing this way, in public . . . for me and only me.” I swear I hear her moan through the music, and that’s all I can take. I turn her around and push my hand under her skirt.

“Hardin.” She groans when I slide her panties to the side.

“No one is paying any attention. Even if they were, they can’t see,” I assure her. I wouldn’t be doing this if I thought anyone could possibly witness it.

“You liked putting on that show, didn’t you?” I say. She can’t deny it, she’s soaking.

She doesn’t respond; she only rests her head on my shoulder and pulls at the bottom of my shirt, fisting it in her hand like she normally would do our sheets. I pump in and out of her, trying to match the haunting melody of the song. Almost instantly, her legs are stiffening, and she’s coming on my fingers. She hums, letting me know just how much pleasure I’m bringing her. She leans in further, her mouth sucking at the base of my neck. Her hips rock into me, keeping a steady beat with my fingers pumping in and out of her wet pussy. Her moans are drowned out by the music and the voices around us, and her nails could possibly be breaking the skin on my stomach.

“I’m going to,” she groans into my neck.

“I know, baby. Come for me. Right here, Tessa. Come.” I gently persuade her.

She nods, biting down on the tendon in my neck, and I feel my cock pulsing, pressing against the front of my jeans. All of her weight rests on me as she orgasms, and I hold her up. She’s panting, absolutely flushing, glowing under the lights, when she lifts her head.

“Car or bathroom?” she asks when I bring my fingers to my lips, sucking her sweetness from them.

“Car,” I reply hastily, and she downs the last of her champagne. Vance can pay for that shit; I don’t have time to hunt down the bartender.

Tessa takes my hand and drags me toward the door. She’s eager, and I’m hard as fuck from her seduction game at the bar.

“Is that . . . ?” Tessa stops in her tracks near the front of the club. Black hair, styled to stick up wildly, peeks through the crowd. I would have sworn my paranoia was causing me to hallucinate if she hadn’t seen him, too.

“Why the fuck is he here? Did you tell him you were coming to the club?” I hiss. I’ve kept my cool all night, only to have it sabotaged by this asshole.

“No! Of course not!” Tessa exclaims, defending herself. I can tell by her wide eyes that she’s being honest.

Zed spots us, and a mischievous frown takes over his face. Being the fucking instigator that he is, he walks over to where we’re standing.

“What are you doing here?” I ask him as he approaches.

“Same thing as you.” He rolls his shoulders and looks at Tessa. I fight the urge to pull the top of her dress up and knock his teeth out.

“How did you know she was here?” I ask him.

Tessa tugs at my arm and looks back and forth between Zed and me.

“I didn’t. I’m here to watch the band.” A man with the same tanned skin as Zed joins us.

“You should go,” I tell the two of them.

“Hardin, please,” Tessa whines behind me.