‘I do believe I could eat off that table.’
The male voice came from the direction of the bar and she almost jumped out of her skin. She’d thought she was alone.
Heart in her throat, she turned warily to face the voice. It belonged to a big guy, his jaw dark with a few days beard and his eyes a toffee brown. A tight black tee was stretched over a heavily muscled torso, and she would have drooled. If she hadn’t noticed the bottle of champagne he’d lifted from the cooler. Drool-worthy was a thief.
She aimed a glare at him. ‘Put it back. That’s stealing.’ The flash of steel in his hand had her trying to reel her words back. Maybe not the best move.
‘It’s not stealing if you own it. I’m Brandr.’
Great. First shift and she was going to get fired for accusing the owner of being light-fingered.
‘Crap. I’m so sorry. I didn’t realise.’
‘You must be the new girl. Sive?’ His perfect pronunciation of her old-Irish name had never sounded so sexy as when he said it. She stepped towards the bar and he clasped her outstretched palm in a firm shake. Skin to skin, the touch was innocent, but the intimacy unnerved her. Close enough, she could see what the blade was really for. He had a dish of fresh oysters and he let go of her hand to pry one open, working it carefully until it offered up its juicy insides. The way he sucked that wet, succulent flesh between his lips made her insides quiver. ‘Would you care for one?’
She made a face at the offering. ‘No thank you. Not my thing.’
His lips curled in a smirk as he placed a pair of champagne flutes on the bar and filled both, sliding one in her direction. ‘What is your thing, Sive?’
‘Me? I like my meat. Bacon. Sausages.’
‘Oh, I just bet you do.’ His laughter was wicked and she blushed. What had she just said? She reached for the champagne and gulped it down. Shouldn’t be drinking on the job, but he was the boss.
‘I’m a farmer’s daughter.’ As if that explained her meat fetish.
‘I see. And what brings an innocent country girl like you to take a job in my club?’
‘I’m not so innocent.’ She wasn’t a virgin, exactly. Her ex had managed to get it in, after a lot of fumbling, but that was all the experience she could claim.
‘I’m working my way through university, studying veterinary medicine.’
Eyes the colour of liquid caramel lit up and his mouth spread into a devilish grin. ‘So you like animals?’
She frowned, indignant. He made her feel so young and gauche. ‘I’m not some little girl who wants to cure sick puppies. I grew up on a farm. I’ve won a scholarship to work on a big-cat breeding programme.’
His brow quirked, impressed. ‘So you know how to handle large beasts ...’ He dragged his teeth over his full lower lip, holding her gaze as he drank from the glass. ‘You’ll fit right in here.’
Refilling the glasses he walked around the bar and offered her one. God, he was huge. Instinctively, she backed up. Her ass collided with the edge of the table she’d been cleaning. She vaulted up and took the glass, drinking nervously.
He dragged a chair over and sat in front of her, those brown eyes intense, focussed on her as though she was edible.
Another sip and she was feeling a little tipsy and a lot turned on. The uniform rode up her thighs and his eyes fell to her tightly clamped knees.
He took her drink and set the champagne glasses down. ‘You know the best oysters to eat are the most tightly closed? The ones you need to prise apart.’ His hand was hot on her knee, and she swallowed hard when strong fingers slipped to the tight-pressed seam of her legs, pushing between her knees like the blade had done with the oysters. She yielded.
‘You want this?’ Hooded eyes held her flushed gaze as she bit her lip and nodded.
‘Yes,’ she breathed huskily, heart kicked to a gallop as his rough hands stroked up her inner thighs. Fingers hooked in her panties, sliding them down her legs. God, she was so exposed and the pressure of his hands on the insides of her knees only spread her wider to his hungry gaze. He was really going to...Holy cow. Of course, she’d heard about it, but sex with her ex had never been more adventurous than the Church-approved missionary position. She braced herself, hands gripping the chains that suspended the table from the ceiling...
His head of dark curls dipped and she felt the scruff of his beard graze her inner thighs, soothed by the cold softness of champagne-wet lips. His hands coaxed her wider, and she felt his hot breath on her intimate skin, followed by the muscular stroke of his velvet tongue, parting the seam of her cleft. A shiver ran up her spine, relaying down her legs to curl her toes as he flicked his tongue over the pearl of her sex, sucking softly on her outer lips.
‘You like that?’ Molten caramel eyes lifted to meet her glazed expression.
‘Oh God yes!’
He smiled wickedly, growling into her dripping folds. Her thighs tensed but he prised them open, torturing her with sensations. Slick and hot, she was squirming on his tongue, her head fuzzed by the slow, rhythmic dragging, her hips writhing. To get away or to get more friction, she wasn’t sure. She was on overload as he ate her alive. Her hands squeezed around the chains and her breath stuttered. He was stealing her ability to think, overriding everything with the burn of his beard rasping her inner thighs, the merciless lap of his tongue feeding on the liquid heat of her arousal. He stroked a finger inside the wet core of her and she cursed, head falling back, body kicking up. By the time he eased a second in, she was exhaling senseless noises and grinding into him, begging for more when bliss tightened low in her belly. His teeth scraped softly over the bead of her pleasure and she jerked, shuddering closer to the orgasmic edge. She stifled a whimper as he pulled his mouth away and cool air brushed her exposed skin. Her thighs were trembling, her sucked, swollen flesh throbbing for release. His thick fingers continued to pump as he ran his tongue slowly over lips glossed with her arousal, prominent canines dimpling his full mouth. She watched him take a mouthful of champagne, not realising his intention until his head was back between her legs and cold bubbles were trickling a tantalising kiss down her cleft. Her hips knifed up as the strength of her orgasm tackled her into jolts of ecstasy, pulsing around the girth of his fingers as he drowned her quivering flesh in champagne kisses. So wet, she couldn’t tell where the cold stream of bubbles began and her arousal ended, Brandr licked and sucked and drank her up in a stuttering cascade of orgasms. There was no room to catch breath before she was taken under again and again, an assault of pure, undiluted pleasure, bucking and whimpering until she was reduced to nothing but a puddle of sated female, sprawled across the table. Her brain was fried, up in the clouds and she couldn’t give a damn about being exposed. Wasn’t even sure she had the ability to move her legs, but Brandr wasn’t complaining. He was still between her thighs, satisfied, like he knew he was the source of her revelation. She never could have imagined sex could be so...
Beard bristling sensitive skin, his lips were silky on her thigh, a brief kiss before he pulled back and gently pressed her legs closed. Returning her modesty. She pulled herself up by the chains to find him looking up at her with low-lidded, self-satisfaction.
‘I would never have expected to find such a pearl. And here, of all places. You are exquisite, my delicious little oyster.’
She blushed and wet her lower lip. ‘I may have a new-found appreciation of oysters and champagne.’
He reached up to brush his thumb across her mouth. ‘Just a beginner’s lesson in educating your palate, Sive. Imagine the possibilities ... if you will open your mind.’
The job's prospects were suddenly looking up.
Raven and Black's paranormal romance novel BECOMING RED is available from Amazon HERE