(David and Bernadette together again for the first time. What began as an erotic spanking ends with . . . something else. This story is a sequel to "Taken by Surprise," found in the Fetish section.)
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Bernadette didn't walk across the lobby of the casino. She glided. She flowed. She slithered. A vision in a scarlet mini-dress. A hot coal, a ripe strawberry, a valentine. With legs.
And David watched. Jesus, how did she get into a dress that tight?
And what was it about high heels that was so sexy, he wondered. "Oh right," he remembered, watching the hypnotic rock and roll of her succulent round ass when she sauntered to the cashier window. She curled slender fingers around a roll of chips, and turned toward the blackjack table, stopping short when she caught sight of David sitting at the bar. He raised his glass in a silent toast, then turned away.
Still he monitored surreptitiously as she ambled to the blackjack table and hoisted her cute derriere onto the elevated stool. He knew it was cute; he'd become intimately acquainted with it last week when, the first time he'd laid eyes on her, he'd pinioned her over his knee for a sound spanking. In fact, he had done little else but think about that sweet ass for the past week. He shook his head to clear it of the blood-warming image of her taut but yielding bottom. He was supposed to meet an out-of-town client—out-of-towners always wanted to meet in a casino. Going into the conference room with a raging hard-on wouldn't help win the bid on a building contract.
Bernie's dress had crept up her sleek thigh, revealing more leg and causing a lot of squirming and adjusting of crotches among the men at the neighboring table. David couldn't help smiling to himself; the little minx knew exactly what she was doing: teasing every cock in the room that was attached to a heterosexual. Including his own, dammit.
Her pink mouth pursed in a little pout when the dealer took the last of her chips, and she moved in slow motion, easing one long slender leg off the stool—could that skirt ride up any higher and still be legal? Then the other leg, and for a second her legs parted just enough to hint at a promising dark shadow at the apex of those silky thighs. Nobody saw anything, but every man in the place would swear that he did. She bent her knees in a little dip, tugged at her hem with both hands, and did a little one-two twitch of her hips to straighten the sleek lines of that impossibly red dress. A collective groan—inaudible but unmistakably understood—emanated from the male population in the casino.
David was done watching this show. Screw the client, screw the appointment, screw the contract. He tossed back the rest of his drink and stepped in front of Bernie. It was like stepping into the path of an oncoming train, but David Duvane was undaunted.
She bumped right into him and he put his hands on her waist to steady her, kept them there. She didn't try to pull away. He liked that.
"What are you doing here?" he demanded.
"My boyfriend was supposed to meet me. He didn't show. Now he's my ex-boyfriend."
"Any idea the effect that dress is having on every able-bodied man in the room?"
She looked down at herself as if she just noticed that her luscious curves had been poured into the clingy red knit. Mischievous brown eyes sparkled up at him from beneath smoky dark lashes. "Yes."
He couldn't help the chuckle that spiraled up from his chest. He still gripped her waist, making sure that the hard bulge straining at his trousers brushed her flat belly. Aware of the eyes all around them, he took her elbow and steered her to a door marked "Private."
The bleeps and clangs of the slot machines faded behind them as David guided her through several turns of the dark, quiet hallway to the conference room where his meeting was to have been held. The door was locked.
