Haze Andrea Wolfe (best mobile ebook reader txt) 📖

awkward dancing. Well, I felt awkward dancing most of the time, anyhow.

"There's no right or wrong way to dance," Jack had said, real wisdom for the ages. It was as if he had sensed my initial apprehension.

And even cooler than that, Stacy didn't feel like a third wheel at all. There were no awkward dynamics or anything else. I danced with her sometimes, I danced with Jack other times, and we all danced together most of the time. It was hot and sweaty and loud, but that was just what I needed.

Although I wasn't sure of the exact time when Stacy left, it seemed like she stuck around longer than she had planned originally. It made me feel good to know that perhaps she had had fun in my presence. She was also an actor, so maybe she was just acting—but it felt real to me.

We screamed our goodbyes to her, deciding to remain on our own for a short while after she departed. She waved as the crowd scattered enough to let her through. If anyone had paid attention, they probably would have been begging her for an autograph. I was somewhat surprised to see that not everyone was attacked at all times by screaming fans.

I guess that was a good thing.

Things started to get hot between Jack and I—both figuratively and literally; it was also about a hundred degrees on the dance floor—after Stacy left, so hot that we starting thinking about sneaking back toward our room, desire surging in our veins like a designer drug.

"God, I want you so fucking bad, Effie," Jack said into my ear, his voice loud enough to be audible over the music, but not to anyone other than me. When he pressed his hips against mine, I knew he wasn't lying.

"I wish you could fuck me right here," I said.

Jack ran his hands along my wet forehead, pulling the sweaty strands aside as his eyes stared deep into me. He gripped my ass with his other hand and pulled me against him, meeting my lips with a deadly kiss. There was the saltiness of sweat, our saltiness, present.

His tongue fiercely stroked mine before withdrawing and subsequently focusing on my lower lip. He rolled it between his teeth and tongue, nibbling gently.

"Maybe I should."

It was clear that it was going to take herculean effort to resist him now. I was entirely in his hands now, drowning the only word I could come up to describe how I felt.

I didn't even realize that he had led me toward an empty space on the wall until my back flattened against it. He kept his tongue in my mouth, grinding his pelvis against mine. My hands found a place in his hair, tousling it and caressing his head as I contributed to further chaos.

Honestly, I was never one for public displays of affection, and definitely not a fan of public displays of intercourse. Right now though, I didn't know how far Jack would take me. Would he actually try to inconspicuously fuck me in this open space full of strangers, this pulsing, sexy, throbbing—

"C'mon." His voice interrupted my chain of thoughts as he pulled me toward a booth in the back. We fell into it together, his body dragging mine in behind it. The kissing continued as wetness pooled between my thighs.

Not long after, his fingers had found a comfortable spot up my skirt and self-consciousness hit me. "Jack, what if somebody—"

"What if they what? Nobody cares about us, Effie."

My brain had suggested that we were on stage, putting on some sort of public sex act. People would start throwing money our way any moment now—or calling the police.

But damn, my brain was wrong. No one cared about us. The angle was just right that someone would have to walk right up to our table and drop down to the floor to see anything at all.

And I could not argue when his fingers were inside of me. My uptight nature had nothing to say, not with Jack. It didn't take long to realize that hey, I wanted to have experiences like this with him, wanted to accept whatever he could give me.

I instinctively tried to keep a straight face as he finger-fucked me, trying to hide an expression that might hint that shenanigans were taking place below the surface of the table. Jack's thumb was firmly planted on my clit while two fingers pulsed pressure against my g-spot. My back writhed against the smooth material of the booth, my eyes closing periodically as my neck strained.

Suddenly I heard a voice, but I couldn't respond like I wanted to. "Can I get you two anything to drink?"

Fuck. It was a server, one who had noticed us sitting here and initiated the whole table service thing. I had a hard time deciding whether or not I should speak at all since I had a feeling that Jack just wouldn't stop. I choked back moans as I literally fought to keep a straight face.

"We're just fine for now," Jack said coolly, no hint of I'm finger-fucking this girl while I'm talking to you in his voice. He shoved his fingers even deeper into me, the sensation making my vision blur.

"Holler if you need something." She turned away and walked toward another group of people that definitely needed her more than we did.

"You can come now," Jack said matter-of-factly.

"Dammit," I moaned, partially because I was mad at how good he was, and partially because fuck, I was having an orgasm—in public.

I fought the urge to cry out, my eyes catching glimpses of Jack's each time they opened. Several choked moans escaped, but only Jack heard them over the swell of the music. Jack's deft fingers blasted me toward a deep climax, one that I hadn't expected given the impromptu nature of the act.

I guess that's why people did this stuff in public...

As soon as I came down, my eyes were on the alert again, suspicious of every person that was