Party Favors II

She did not do things like she’d done tonight. She did not take chances, was not wild and reckless, and she sure as hell didn’t put herself knowingly into situations that were in any way foreseeably dangerous to her person or position.

But she had tonight, behaving little better than the “party favors” who always attended these events with the rich, famous, and powerful, looking to brush elbows with the influential and egocentric in hopes of a liaison in a back room or back seat — a frak with greatness, as it were.

She hadn’t come to the party tonight expecting anything of the sort for herself. While not famous, definitely not rich and hardly powerful, she did have some influence in the political realm as the secretary of education. It wasn’t much and absolutely not the sort of authority that would attract the power junkies. And she’d have been frightened if it did.

She also hadn’t come to embroil herself with any of the other players. She was already involved with the highest one in the food chain and none of those under him appealed to her. Sycophants. Every last one of them were sycophants, feeding Mr. All Powerful’s ego to the point he was becoming incredibly insufferable.

She’d grown tired of sitting across from him this evening, watching him play the perfect husband to his wife, then eye everything in a skirt when he had the chance, while ignoring her to the point of being painfully polite.

It wasn’t the ogling or the politeness that irked her, though. It was the sense of entitlement he’d displayed when he’d cornered her in the ladies room and attempted to seduce her into a quickie. Normally, she would have obliged, considering she had been his mistress for the last decade, but there had been something about him tonight that had been decidedly vulgar, not sexy.

As he’d grabbed her breast and rubbed his restrained erection against her hip, he’d seemed more like a dog marking his territory than the skilled and desirous lover she’d known in the past. The smug self-possession had put her off, had set her off, and she’d let him know in no uncertain terms that he did not own her and would be getting nothing from her tonight.

Ironically, it had only made him try harder but she’d left him without a second thought only to collide with a graying, bulldog-faced soldier built like an oak. The instant his hands had made contact with her body, steadying at her waist in a grip both formal and informal, she’d found herself wanting him.

She had no explanation for it.

He was not handsome, though she wouldn’t say he was ugly. He wasn’t tall, but he wasn’t short either. He was not lean, but thickening around the middle. He was not fair-skinned but ruddy and scarred. Hell, he wasn’t even the highest-ranking officer in the room.

Frankly, he was not even close to what she’d consider her type, but then again her type had just made her feel the need to wash head to toe and get stone-cold drunk, making the soldier a sudden and welcome breath of fresh air.

She’d suggested they get some and he’d obliged, confused at first at her request for an escort considering they didn’t know one another, but he’d caught on the instant she led him not to a balcony, but up the stairs and into one of the bedrooms.

He hadn’t asked her a single thing. Not her name. Not why. Not anything.

He’d just helped her undress, helped her with the intricacies of his uniform and then proceeded to frak her brains out, as she requested, leaving her smiling and giggling like a carefree schoolgirl.

She’d liked that feeling, which is why she’d invited him home with her. Okay, she didn’t so much as invite as order him. Well, it wasn’t an order, but it might as well have been because he’d obeyed her unspoken desire for the night to continue as if it were a barked order from his commander in chief.

And now they were naked again, her legs wrapped around him, her naked chest pressed against his as his hips pistoned into her, driving her ass against the panelling with a satisfying slap while sucking hard at her neck.

He was going to leave a mark in a place she couldn’t hide but she didn’t give a flying frak. The steady, repeated drilling of his cock into her pussy felt too frakking good for her to care about much of anything.

Sex hadn’t been this good in ages. And what they were doing wasn’t really all that provocative. She’d done it against the wall often enough to render the position mundane, and she could tell he’d had practice at it, too. His hands were perfectly placed on her bottom, holding her into position for him to reach exactly where he needed to drive her wild.

And she was wild, gasping and moaning, one hand gripping his shoulder while the other slapped at the wall in punctuation to each bottoming out of his cock.

Godsdamn, he might not be all that handsome in the traditional sense, but he appealed to her in ways she considered it was probably dangerous to consider.

Sexy. Virile. Hungry. He fed in her a hunger for more, and more, and more, of this, of him, making her wonder if she’d ever have enough.

That thought should have frightened her, but it didn’t for some strange reason. Of course, the fact she was becoming the personification of incoherence on the end of his cock, probably had something to do with it. The whisper of her name by that raspy rumble of a voice had a whole lot to do with it.

Hands sinking into his hair, she drew his mouth up to hers, kissed him hard and deep, almost savagely, and he returned it in kind.

Then he was pulling her away from the wall, a move she protested until he dropped her down onto her mattress. As she bounced, he knelt and then his mouth was between her thighs and she thought she’d die.

Just die.

He ate her with a fervency that had her crying out even though she wasn’t cumming. She heard him between her keening moans. He was saying things. She listened and flushed hot.

“I’ve missed pussy,” he was confessing as he delved his tongue inside her, probing her folds and dipping inside her, where his cock had just been. “Missed it. Missed it.” He opened her with his fingers and all but growled, “frak me,” before shoving his tongue deep.

Laura didn’t stop to analyze exactly what that admission meant. She didn’t care at the moment, wasn’t sure she ever would, or that she might never have another thought from the logical part of her brain. Logic and reason didn’t matter when she felt this good.

Clutching his head to her, she drew her legs up until they were hanging over his shoulders. He surged up against her at the move and ate with even more vigor, grinding his face into her, his tongue reaching so deep a part of her swore she could feel it at the back of her throat. That thought alone had her orgasming.

Awareness returned when he pulled her off the side of her bed and down into his lap, onto his cock.

“Oh yes,” she heard herself saying then watched him grin.

Not smirk. Not snarl. But grin. Bright and happy.

The expression was accompanied by a rumbled “yeah,” and then he was frakking her again, lifting her against the side of the bed as he drove up into her.

There would be no more frakking with Richard, she decided as this man took her.

How could she go back to that after this?

She’d rather have nothing, and that thought had her shutting her eyes, throwing back her head and frakking her unknown soldier with everything she had, riding him until he was jetting hot inside her with a triumphant bark of her name.

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