Mardi Gras

shoulders, he leaned down to whisper in her ear as a guy moved past them into the newly vacated bathroom. “You haven’t made me come just yet, but I have a feeling you will.”
He felt the words travel through her in the sexy stretch of her shoulders, the forward thrust of her breasts.
“I’ll go wherever you want me to, honey,” he added. “Just lead the way.”
* * * * *
Mia’s skin tingled with heat by the time she led Ty up Bourbon Street toward her aunt’s apartment. The mood outside only added to her excitement. People milled about, girls were still flashing for beads, and a party atmosphere permeated the warmer-than-average February night.
She was still quaking over the name she’d told him—Mina. She’d feared she’d given herself away even as it left her lips, but he’d seemed to accept it without thought.
Thank God she’d never told him Mia was short for Mina, which was short for Wilhelmina—a great-grandmother on her father’s side. Apparently, Tim had never had occasion to mention that little bit of trivia to Ty, either, for which she was now eternally grateful.
She’d also nearly fainted when he’d tried to take off her mask. Thank goodness he hadn’t persisted. Everything depended on keeping her sexy mask on, and her face
hidden.
She didn’t look back at him as she walked—she didn’t dare. She was too amazed that this was really happening, really working. She’d been confident, but maybe she hadn’t been truly prepared for how it would feel to have his hands on her, his mouth on hers. To finally kiss the much-lusted-after Ty had been at once magical and the most natural thing on earth. He kissed exactly like she’d imagined, with a soft, insistent heat and a slow urgency that could drive a woman insane. She’d almost thought she could 28
Mardi Gras
come just from kissing him. And when his perfect and delightfully large hard-on had pressed into her—mmm, her cunt had nearly melted from the flames he’d ignited there.
Now her anxious pussy hummed with desire. But she had a long way to go before she’d actually have him, his cock, inside her. She had plans for her man. Plans for an evening he’d always remember.
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Lacey Alexander

Chapter Three
She drew him across the street and through a group of twenty-something guys, aware they were staring, aware that her blouse remained unbuttoned past her bra. She decided she must be an even naughtier girl than she realized, since she didn’t mind being displayed for them, didn’t mind that it was probably very clear she was about to seduce the man following behind her.
Leading Ty through a wrought iron gate, she climbed the stairs to Aunt Sophie’s second-floor apartment. She couldn’t help wondering if her ass was in his face with each step she took, and if perhaps he was tempted to reach out and push up her skirt, and go after her right here and now. If he did, she wasn’t sure she’d have the will to stop him.
But you have to stick to your plan, she reminded herself. If you want to give him a night to remember, you have to take it slow and do it right—get him where you want him. Get him where he wants to be, too.
When they arrived on the landing, she reached into her bra, sliding her fingers across the soft lower curve of her left breast, and pulled out the key.
Raising her gaze, she found he’d been watching.
“That’s damn sexy,” he said in a low, pointed tone.
She replied in her super-sophisticated voice. “I like to travel light.” He grinned, his eyes all fire and anticipation.
When she unlocked the door and pushed it open, she didn’t reach for the light switch, instead letting the glow shining through the front windows guide them through the apartment.
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Only when she stepped into what Aunt Sophie referred to as her front parlor, just off the balcony, did she turn on a lamp—one operated by a dimmer switch. She kept it low, both to protect her true identity and create a seductive mood.
Next, she walked to the French doors that led onto the balcony. As much as she wanted to be alone with Ty, she also regretted having to leave the infectious decadence of Mardi Gras behind. On impulse, she opened the doors wide, admitting the sounds of music—snippets of Dixieland, jazz, and Zydeco all emanating up from the street below.
With it came the vague static of voices, laughter, and the wafting aromas of sweet pralines and any number of spicy Cajun delicacies. It all drifted inside, seeming to inhabit the room with them.
She’d dropped by the apartment on the way home from work yesterday to situate everything just the way she wanted it. Turning to see the kitchen chair she’d placed in the middle of the parlor floor reminded her that—with her passion already at a fever pitch—she’d best put her strategy into play before he grabbed her and started kissing her and the whole plan was forgotten.
“Sit down,” she said. Not too harsh or bossy. Just a request.
He moved toward the sofa that rested against one wall.
“No. There.” She pointed to the wooden chair.
He lifted his gaze. Grinned slightly, uncertainly. “Uh, why?” She returned a small, pointed smile. “Just do it, lover.” He tilted his head in speculation, as if maybe he was tuning in to the idea that she was about to fulfill his private desires—then he moved toward the chair and took a seat.
Of course, the way he was looking at her now made her simply want to leap on him and decide Screw the plan, so she had to work to stay calm in order to go on. Still, her thighs ached and her cunt pulsed with need. Even her arms and hands felt heavy, hungry. Pure want soaked her entire body in a way she’d never quite experienced before.
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Lacey Alexander
“What now, baby?” he asked in the sexiest, raspiest voice she’d ever heard leave his mouth.
This is what it’s like to be