Read Show Off for Free Online Page B

every beat of her heart.
    As limp as she was, Vicente was tense with his own desire. He turned her in his arms and stroked her hair back from her face.
    "Call Arthur, tell him to get the car,” she murmured. She didn't care if the driver watched them. She wanted Vicente inside her and she wasn't above begging.
    He covered her mouth with his and she dissolved into the sexuality of the kiss, dragging her tongue along his as he tangled his fingers in her hair. Then he broke the kiss and turned, catching her hand and leading her off the dance floor. She stumbled at first, her legs still rubbery from her orgasm. He glanced back and slowed, and she realized he wasn't leading her to the exit and the car after all. He was heading in the opposite direction, and she already recognized the determination in his eyes.
    "Not the bathroom,” she managed when she caught up to his shoulder.
    "No."
    But he led her down a hallway and up a short flight of stairs. How did he know where to go? Had he done this before? With whom?
    She didn't want to ask those questions now, but, “Do you scope these places out ahead of time?"
    "I saw it when we came in.” He opened a door and glanced around.
    They were backstage—well, they would have been if a band had been playing tonight instead of a DJ. Veronica could see the dance floor through the heavy curtains surrounding the area. Vicente closed the door securely behind them, scanned the small dark space. He found a wooden speaker cabinet and released her hand to drag it over.
    "Bend over,” he said, his words brisk, tight.
    She did, bracing her hands on the cabinet, anticipation and fear of discovery tensing her muscles when she heard him unzip, heard the rip of the condom package. He flipped up her skirt just as she'd imagine him doing on the dance floor, shoved aside the fabric of her thong and plunged into her, his hands on her hips, holding her still.
    The angle was exquisite, his cock deep and high inside her pussy, different than before, his hips slapping against her ass as she rose on her toes to bring him deeper. He bent his knees to accommodate and her orgasm began to build, tightening her cunt around him, her clit swelling again, aching for his touch, or her own. He leaned over her, lips brushing her ear.
    "You can make all the noise you want this time. No one can hear you with the music."
    So she unclenched her teeth and let his thrusts drive moans of pleasure from her throat. He slid his hand down to her knee, bent her leg to lift her knee onto the speaker cabinet as well, opening her wider for him, and he drove harder, deeper into her slick channel, coasting one hand up her body to free one breast from her dress, stroking, kneading, tugging. She didn't want to move her hips, didn't want to dislodge him, but God, she wanted to come. She wanted to come now.
    "I want to touch myself,” she said over her shoulder.
    His groan vibrated down her body and the rhythm of his strokes stuttered for a moment. “Jesus. Yes. Make yourself come."
    She slid her hand inside her panties. She was so wet she had trouble finding a rhythm to match his, finally gave up trying and created her own, her middle finger flicking her clitoris in quick strokes that made her thighs tense, her ass tighten. When Vicente changed his rhythm, rolling his hips against her ass, pressing deeper, she spasmed, this orgasm thundering through her. She threw her weight back against him again and again until he took charge, pounding into her until his hands clasped on her waist and he groaned his own climax and dropped his head to her back. She could feel him struggle to catch his breath, and as good as he felt inside her, she wanted to turn, to take him into her arms.
    She wanted him to hold her.
    Instead he withdrew, dealt with the condom. She straightened, her back aching, and pulled her panties and dress back into place. Through the curtain, she met the eyes of the same woman who'd watched them earlier, and Veronica's heart