Appetizing

Chapter 3 ( Divine you-know-who puts up a show)

Jack decided he needed to think about the right F words like ‘Future’ & ‘Family’. But Sadly with Grace near him, all his good intentions were easily overpowered by his body’s longing for hers.

In the next moment, the divine ‘you-know-who’ loosened her hair, those shiny brown locks caressed her slim shoulders, flowed over her breasts and teased that tiny waist of hers. Next came off her jacket, exposing a tiny loose half top and Jack could swear, he could see the shadows of her areolas. She stepped on her jacket, which she had dropped so carelessly on the floor and made her way towards the pole, which was placed at the center of the stage. When she gripped the pole with both of her hands and whirled on it, all the while pressing the pole to the juncture between her thighs. Jack nearly choked.

Grace kept on staring at him, as if that performance was his personal private show.

As the notes of the song became more and more sensual plus suggestive, she leveled up her game. She stuck a finger in her mouth and lusciously sucked on it. If that was possible, more blood rushed towards Jack’s cock, reminding him of the time when it was his organ in her mouth instead of that damn finger, her tongue making those slick licks on the head, inciting a buzz that burned his entire body. Even now, he can still remember her tongue game. He trembled.

With a flirtatious smile directed at him, Grace popped her finger from her mouth and slided the wet finger down to her cleavage. She effortlessly palmed her right breast with the offer of nothing but pure wickedness on her attractive face.

Holy shit! No wonder Grace created an empire here. The woman was a walking wet dream and there were no questions asked, she rather did her job absolutely well. It was impossible for any red blooded, heterosexual male to resist such intense teasing.

Out of the corner of his eye, Jack saw Grace’s employee, whose cheek she’d kissed previously, saunter closer to the stage. Jack saw that the giant in the tight red t-shirt looked on edge, panting and was rocking a bulge, that said he really wanted to get busy with a certain something, or rather someone.

And Jack didn’t like the fact that this was pissing him off.

But once again as he looked towards the stage, he damn forgot his own name.

Grace turned her back on him and bent at the waist, staring at him over one mostly bare shoulder with a fuck-me look that stunned him. Jack gripped the arms of his chair, willing himself to stay in it, not charge up on the stage, lay her flat, and get inside her again this instant.

The spaghetti strap of her little top was falling down her arm. And that indecent skirt . . . With her bent over, the hint of the bare ass cheeks flashed from beneath the red silk. Her garters were a come-hither silver. Her thong—he could see only a scrap of it—matched.

Soft fingers teased their way up her shin, her thigh, and disappeared under that little skirt. Her eyes half closed, her sultry mouth parted on a silent moan of seeming self-pleasure. His entire body tensed.

He had to get the hell out of there.

Her hands swept up her undulating hips, gathering the skirt with them. She tugged at the little red garment, and it fluttered to the floor. The tanned halves of her backside, bisected by a bit of silver lace, crashed fresh lust into his chest, making it damn hard to breathe.

Grace had a gorgeous ass. But he’d known that. Jack squeezed his eyes shut so the visual temptation of her bare flesh didn’t taunt him. Memories of tunneling into her ass pounded him instead. Her perfect willingness to take him any way he’d wanted. The tightness of her damp, musky body clasping him. The sweat dripping off of them as he’d thrust deep. Her moans.