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and
direct. He may as well have been touching her with his bare hands. Her response
would’ve been the same—heat between her legs, a return of the desire to climb
astride him and grind her pussy down against his cock, which now stood stiff
behind his fly.
    “I’ll find another club,” she said, clinging to a shred of
good sense. “And I’m not a bottom all the time. That isn’t something I need to
live.”
    A slight smile quirked his lips. “Prove it.”
    She frowned. “Prove what?”
    “Show me what else you have hiding behind those eyes of yours.”
He crooked his fingers, beckoning her closer. “Door’s locked. So prove you
won’t give every time I stand behind you and demand.”
    “I have nothing to prove to you,” she replied, stiffening at
his assumption.
    He inclined his head. “Maybe not. But I can tell from here
that you’ve got something to prove to yourself.”
     
    She stood silent, staring at him with fire in her eyes.
David wouldn’t have put money on the source of the red stain across her high
cheekbones. From where he sat, fury or arousal made no difference. She was hot
as hell either way.
    While he watched and waited, balls aching and his dick as
hard as granite, her eyes changed. She adopted an invisible mask. And reached
back. The sound of a zipper hissed in the silence.
    “I don’t have anything to prove,” she repeated evenly. The
snug-fitting material of her skirt loosened at her hips. She slid her thumbs
behind the waistband and shimmied once. The black sheath slid down her legs and
puddled on the floor.
    Killer heels. Black fishnet thigh-highs. Scarlet panties,
matching garter belt, six inches of pale, bare flesh before her red corset
nipped the dip of her waist. David had never guessed himself to be a lingerie
man but he found himself with a new appreciation for corsets and stockings.
    David skimmed past the generous swell of her breasts and met
her narrowed eyes. He patted his thigh. “Come here.”
    Jovanna produced a tube of lip gloss from her cleavage and
painted her lips ruby, studying him all the while. After, she shook her head
slightly and sat on the sofa opposite him.
    “ You come here .” Perched on the edge of a
cushion, she spread her legs wide and planted the spikes of her heels. The
crotch of her panties parted, displaying pink flesh through the slit.
    “I don’t take orders, Jovanna. I’m not a bottom.” But desire
punched him in the gut despite his refusal. A game took shape in his mind, a
contest to decide whose will was stronger. He was determined to win.
    Her shrug didn’t surprise him. “Suit yourself. But we both
know how bad you want to fuck me now after denying yourself last night. And the
anonymity rules no longer apply. You made sure of that.”
    After saying her piece, she closed her eyes and eased back
against the sofa’s burgundy cushions. Pale hands, black-tipped fingers—she
spread them across her abdomen and lower, teasing her pussy through the damn
opening in her panties. Smooth and silky, her bare lips smiled at him through
the tempting slit.
    David’s cock twitched. He disregarded the eager length and
leaned forward, forearms braced on his knees. “The anonymity rules might not
apply but I’m still not taking orders from you. Show me your clit.”
    She parted the fabric and slid her middle finger deep. His
breath caught and pulse quickened as she withdrew and speared herself with a
second finger. The long, sleek muscles of her inner thighs tensed and relaxed
and he vividly remembered the tight, wet contraction of her flesh around his
fingers. But she didn’t give him what he wanted. Instead, she hid the tiny bud
beneath the heel of her palm.
    “Jovanna.” Need roughened his voice to a growl.
    “No,” she said, forceful and clear despite the quiver he
noted in her thighs. “I’m in control today. Not you and not some prick who
sneaks around in the dark. If you want something, you come get it on my terms.
So you come here .