‘Night Owl’ Erotic Extract
What follows is a sexy extract from the popular Night Owl trilogy, from M. Pierce.
Matt took my hand as we left the restaurant and strolled up Pearl Street.
If he was in a rush to get inside me, he gave no indication. His eyes trailed over the shops. Sometimes he smiled down at me. Holy height discrepancy. Good thing I love tall men.
I caught people watching us. Oh . . . we obviously looked like a couple. A good- looking couple, I hoped. I felt eclipsed by the elegant man at my side.
I followed his gaze to a neon sign at the entrance of an alley. It read DYNAMITE.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he said drily.
“Ha. Wow.” I shook my head.
His eyes were trained on the glowing orange letters. What was he thinking, looking so somber? “Mm. Let’s go in.”
“Wait, what?” I laughed.
Matt tugged me down the alley and I traipsed after him, struggling on my heels. I’d never been inside a strip club. This was about to get interesting.
“You’re crazy,” I said as he paid our cover.
He smirked down at me. Uh- oh. I recognized that smirk.
One hundred percent trouble.
The club was surprisingly busy. I couldn’t think over the music. The lighting was garish, red and yellow. A beaded curtain hung in front of some booths, and there were red velvet chairs arranged
beside a stage.
Three topless girls were strutting along the stage, floating toward men with bills. Everyone I saw had a drink.
I got on my tiptoes to whisper in Matt’s ear. “I think we probably have to buy drinks.”
Matt glanced at the girls, then smiled down at me.
“Now this is seedy as fuck,” he whispered back.
“I’m glad you think so! It really is. What are we doing here?”
“Having some fun,” he said. He pulled out his wallet and headed for the stage. He’d caught the eye of an attractive dancer with chin-length blond hair. They leaned together to chat briefly, and I saw Matt pass the woman a bill. Her eyes widened and she smiled. Shit, how much money did he just give her?
Matt made his way back to me and took my hand. We followed the blond stripper toward the back of the club and down a hall. It got dramatically quiet when we stepped into a midsize room with mirrors on every wall. There were a few ottomans, a black velvet couch, a simple armless chair, and a table. I edged closer to Matt.
“Hi, hon,” said the stripper. “I’m Kelly. Don’t be nervous, darlings.”
Darlings? The girl looked maybe twenty- five. She was pretty, though, and amazingly calm for someone wearing only a G-string and stilettos.
“Your boyfriend said you two wanted to have a little fun,” she said, looking meaningfully between Matt and me.
Boyfriend? I glared at Matt. My glare dissolved as soon as I met his eyes. Oh . . . no. There it was— that starved, absorbing look that made me wild to please him. My heart went double time. I smiled faintly.
“Yeah,” I said quietly.
Matt squeezed my hand, then prowled over to lean against a wall and watch us. Typical, he couldn’t even sit. Restless . . . controlling. Intoxicating.
“Sit,” he ordered, nodding at the chair. “Give her a lap dance,” he said to the stripper.
I sank onto the chair. I was agonizingly aware of Matt staring at me, but I couldn’t meet his gaze. I knew I was beet red.
The stripper straddled me and began to dance. She ignored Matt. She winked at me, ran her tongue along her lips, and brought her breasts close to my body as she ground her ass against my thighs.
I realized with a jolt that I was getting wet.
I wasn’t into girls, not really, so what gave?
It had to be Matt. Matt watching me, enjoying my discomfort. Probably getting hard.
“Touch her,” he said softly.
When I gave the stripper a questioning look, she took my hands and brought them to her breasts. I squeezed and she moaned.
Okay, I thought, I got this— but Matt’s next order brought me up short.
“Show her yours, Hannah.”
The stripper went right on grinding into my lap.
Show her mine? He wanted me to . . .
“Do it,” Matt growled, leaning forward. “Show her your nice big tits, Hannah.”
With shaking hands, I unzipped my dress enough to peel it down. Thank God I’d chosen a strapless dress. I rolled down my bra without unclasping it. My nipples were hard. I heard Matt exhale
“Good,” he said.
The stripper lifted my heavy breasts and pressed them to hers. I moaned. Fuck, there was definitely a wet spot on my dress.
Matt stalked toward us suddenly.
“Get out,” he snarled at the stripper.
Unfazed, the stripper accepted another bill from Matt, smiled at us both, and breezed out. The door clicked closed behind her. Matt stared down at me, tilting up my chin as if I were a disobedient child. My legs trembled.
“God, Hannah,” he whispered, “you’re perfect. Did you like that? Did you like making me hard like that? Look at my cock.”
My eyes traveled down the buttons of Matt’s shirt to the tent in his slacks. I swallowed.
“Looks good, right?”
“Did you enjoy showing your tits to that woman?” He chuckled and reached for my breasts, squeezing them mercilessly. “You’re a slut for me, aren’t you, Hannah?”
“Yes,” I gasped. I covered his hands with mine. My brain screamed: Feminine power, feminine power! It was my turn to drive Matt crazy, goddamn it.
I slid off the chair and fell to my knees at Matt’s feet.
Before he could react, I yanked down his slacks and boxers, grabbed his cock— damn, I’d forgotten how huge it was— and began to suck hard on his head.
“Mm!” Matt groaned. “Ohhh . . . fuck . . .”
Success! His noises spurred me on. I swirled my tongue around his head and stroked his shaft with one hand, fondling his balls with the other.
“H-Hannah,” he stammered. “Oh, God . . . what . . . are you doing . . .”
I looked up at him. His eyes sent a shiver through me. He was gone, totally gone. A soft shock of hair swept across his brow. His head was lowered, his lips parted slightly. He watched in a stupor as my tongue and mouth made his cock glisten.
“Mm,” he moaned again. He clenched his teeth. Fuck, he was fighting it— fighting his pleasure, fighting for control. So hot.
I worked faster. With long, deep sucks I drew his head into the back of my throat. I ignored my own little gagging sounds as his huge member filled my mouth. I could never have taken the whole thing, but I did the best I could with my hand and the seal of my lips.
Soon I tasted cum. I moaned onto his cock.
Matt staggered back. He pressed himself against one of the mirrors. I eyed his shaft.
“Hannah,” he growled.
I crawled forward, smiling up at him. My breasts swayed pendulously.
“It’s okay, Matt,” I whispered, licking my lips. Oh, it felt good to have control this time. “I know you need this. Come on. I bet you’re already about to explode.”
I was teasing him, but when I took him back into my mouth, I realized with surprise that I was right. After just minutes, Matt was close to coming. His balls were tight in my hand. His shaft throbbed in my mouth.
I saw him glance aside and then I saw what he saw: us, reflected in a mirror.
His chest rose and fell fiercely. He looked stricken and delirious. God, I loved it.
“My cock, God, my cock Hannah,” he pleaded.
I began to bob my head on it, looking up at him.
“A-ah, yes . . . fuck . . . no . . . not yet, f . . . fuck not yet, Hannah, don’t.”
I would have crowed in triumph if I could.
His protests notwithstanding, Matt was giving tiny, helpless thrusts into my wet mouth. I squeezed his shaft harder and picked up the pace. He arched away from the wall, tugged at my hair, and came hard, coating the back of my throat with cum.
“Fuck!” he rasped.
I had no doubt Matt’s moan was heard beyond the door.
I swallowed and sat back on my heels.
“You taste amazing,” I murmured.
Matt swayed against the wall.
Before he could turn the tables on me, I yanked up my bra and dress, gave Matt’s tight ass a squeeze, and scrambled for the door. To be honest, I was afraid to linger in the room with him. He was watching me with his steady green eyes, though he had yet to do up his slacks, and I felt precisely like I was standing in a cage watching a tranquilized tiger wake.
I blew him a kiss at the door.
“I’ll meet you outside,” I said, and then I got the hell out of there.
Donna is a Volonté contributor and freelancer who lives in San Francisco with her understanding husband and not-so-understanding teenage sons. Her work has been published in The Journal of Sexology and she is currently writing a book on love languages.