I lean back on the sofa, appreciating the pair of pouty lips working their way up and down the length of my rigid cock.

The glass of Scotch in my hand rounds out the mood as I relax in front of a roaring fire in my private suite at the clubhouse. It’s the first December night chilly enough to warrant a fire. There’s nothing like the sound of crackling logs and the hot, dry air on nights like these.

I look down at the flaming shock of red hair bobbing around my groin. What’s her name again? Penny? No, she’s off with Ted. Stefania? No, that’s the icy-hot little Nordic princess that Chauncey snapped up. That would leave…Melissa? Maybe.

Whatever her name is, she is world-class at giving head. I picked her just for that full, luscious mouth of hers. And sure, I’ve always had a thing for redheads. Especially around the holidays.

“That’s it…” I groan, pumping my hips upward to meet her mouth.

She moans, and the vibrations go right to my balls. Closing my eyes, I rest the Scotch on the end table. My hands are now free to grip a handful of her hair and help her along with the pace I like. Yes, witnessing her bright red pair of perfectly plump lips go down on my dick after a long day at work is reward enough, and this sweet thing has some skills.

My balls tighten, and that pressure deep in my groin begins to expand and take over my thought processes, and pretty much every non-essential bodily function as I get close to exploding.

“Fuck,” I growl through clenched teeth and my body stiffens.

The pleasure becomes too much. Little Miss Gingersnap begins to suck harder, draining me dry. She moves up and down my shaft a few more times as if she does not want to waste a single drop. When she finally eases up, I release her hair and she backs away from my dick, sitting back on her knees with her eyes locked on my face, waiting for my next instruction.

“That was good,” I drawl, closing my eyes.

She crawls up on the couch beside me, winding one of her arms around my neck. I’m about to tell her I need a minute to get my second wind, and I notice the hem of this little black dress she has on is halfway between her thighs and her waist. There are no panties in sight, and it dawns on me that she’s been keeping herself busy with that other hand between her legs.

I take hold of that naughty hand that’s been doing my job without my knowledge. Lifting her hand to my mouth, I suck each finger clean, breathing in her sweet feminine scent as I go. That’s enough to make me rock hard again. I reach over for the box of condoms on the end table. Ripping one open, I pass it to her. She’s so eager, it’s on me in no time, and in the next instant, she straddles me and sinks down my shaft.

Fuck, this woman knows what she’s doing.

“Take off this dress,” I tell her with a groan, wanting to see more of her.

“But you feel so good, cowboy,” she whispers as her hips lift and lower, taking more of me inside of her each time she bobs on my rock hard length. “That Texas drawl in your accent turns me on. You’re from Texas, right?”

“I sure am,” I confirm.

“I don’t want to stop, baby.”

“Fine.”

If she likes this dress, well, she’ll need to get herself a new one. I’m not ready to miss out on her perky breasts as they bounce. My hands go up to her deep V-neckline, and with a firm, sharp tug, I rip the front right down to her waist.

There.

Much better.

Her firm, ample breasts, pink nipples and creamy skin have been hiding out for far too long. She doesn’t even flinch about the torn scraps of dress on her body. Placing my hand on her back, I pull her breasts closer, burying my face into her cleavage for a bit of up close and personal time. She continues to ride me. My lips graze over her nipple, and just as I capture one between my teeth and suck it into my mouth, her body freezes in place.

Her cries of ecstasy make me realize that little miss sunshine is either really quick to get her jollies, or has had too much time to play with herself while she was giving me head. Either way, now that her core is pulsing and fluttering, it gives my dick a wicked massage. I’m enjoying it, but I’m getting restless sitting in this sofa. I give her a minute to catch her breath. As I wait, I run my hands down her legs that go on for miles, and wrap them around my waist. Pushing off the couch, I carry her toward my bedroom down the hall, absently hoping that my dress slacks will stay put around my hips even though my zipper is down, my waistband is unbuttoned, and my belt is somewhere in the living room.

We don’t quite get there. I’m still buried deep inside of her, and at this standing angle, with her voice purring in my ear, I’m close to losing control. Pressing her up against the hallway wall, I pump my hips, driving into her tight, hot center like a man possessed. She’s working her hips too, rolling them around in tiny almost indiscernible movements that have me close to blowing my load. This may be a new time record, and I have to wonder whether she’s my fucking soulmate—in the bedroom at least.

In a few more sharp thrusts, I take her mouth for a hot, rough, breathy, kiss as I empty inside of her, right there up against the wall.

“What’s your name?” I ask when my breathing normalizes.

I’m making sure I remember this time, and fuck, her number is getting a priority checkmark in my phone.

She pulls her head back so she can look me in the eye. “It’s Riley,” she says, stretching her legs downward to stand on her own.

Something in her expression changes. I can’t put a finger on it, but it’s as though she has gone from laid back sex kitten to corporate executive in a New York minute. The look worries me.

“Did you enjoy fucking me?” she asks, steadying herself on her own two feet.

I nod. “Hell yeah.”

“How about my body?”

She smooths out the ripped dress, more or less covering her breasts, and turns in a slow circle. I have a hand against the wall, propping myself up because I’m still recovering from two back-to-back orgasms. But I watch her sinfully perfect body. Huge firm rack, tiny waist, thick ass, long, long legs.

“It’s a temple,” I say with my eyes glued to her.

I want to ask her why she thinks she made it here in the first place, but I keep that to myself. She caught my eye when my buddies and I were at a restaurant earlier, and I didn’t waste any time picking her. I had no doubts about my decision right up to three minutes ago. Now, I’m wondering whether I picked her, or vice versa. It’s that predatory look in her eyes. I’ve seen it before. Hell, I’ve worn it before, so I’m intimately familiar with the look.

“Do I…do we know each other?” I ask, following her as she returns to her winter coat, purse and stilettos at the front door.

“No, but you should. And I definitely know you, Mr. Malcolm Alexander.”

She reaches for the door. I have yet to mention my last name, so the fact that she belts it out doesn’t do anything to stop the lump from forming in my throat. I have to stop her and find out more, so I grip her shoulder and spin her around.

“What’s this about? What’s your name?”

“It’s Riley Hampton. Look it up. Now, can you let me go now? I’d quite like to get the hell out of here now that I’ve stared into the eyes of evil.”

I tighten my grip on her shoulder. “Who are you? You’re not leaving until I know exactly why you’d fuck me one minute, then call my name the next.”

“All I’ll say is that meeting you at the restaurant was not coincidence, and when I saw you, I decided I’d give you a taste of your own medicine.”

“And what kind of medicine is that?” I ask, working hard to control the grin that’s threatening to rise up my face that I can’t control. After all, she had just given me one hell of a blow job and made me come twice in fifteen minutes. I must have been damn good to her in a former life because that time on the sofa and against the wall was sweet as fuck. She hasn’t been anywhere else in my suite, so it’s not like she’s a thief or anything. I’m stumped.

“The kind where you and your family step in, take what you want, then leave a trail of disaster in its wake. Now, let me go right this instant, so I don’t have to add to your troubles.”

My hand immediately retracts. This hellcat has lured me into something, and fuck if I know what it is, but I can’t afford to get any deeper. I don’t even have words for her. Deciding it’s probably better to shut the fuck up, I let her leave. Stepping back a few steps, I fold my arms and I watch as she shoves the door open and sashays across the wide corridor to our private elevator. I notice how shaky she is on her feet. Normally, that after-effect would give me some satisfaction. Today, I’m not laughing.

Riley Hampton.

I won’t forget that name.

* * *

I force myself to wait a few minutes for her to leave the building. It’s not that I don’t want to confront her. I’m just trying not to fall further into whatever trap she has set for me. My phone buzzes in my pocket as I wait. It’s a text from Chauncey downstairs in the poker room. The guys are starting the game, and want to know if I’ll be in for this round. I send him a brief reply with just the word ‘yes’. At the moment, I’m distracted as fuck. I want to pull away and find out who this Riley Hampton is.

It turns out that I’m not the last one to the game. Still, the guys lay into me with a smattering of applause.

“What’s the hurry?” I mutter, looking around as I take my usual seat on the large, round poker table. One seat is still empty. I do my usual headcount before we kick off a game. Carter, Markus, Chance, Prentice, Jeff, Victor, Ted and I are all accounted for. “Are we waiting for Angelo? Wasn’t he at the restaurant with that twin chick he’s been seeing?”

“He sends his regrets,” Chauncey answers, shaking out his long, blonde hair and pulling it back into a man-bun.

One of the scantily-clad poker dealer dolls on staff appears from the service door. She begins to deal us in.

“Does anyone know a woman named Riley Hampton?” I can’t even try to act calm. I’m moving the cards around in my hand, but I’m on autopilot.

“Why the hell would you ask when you can just search her name on your phone?” Jeff barks the question as he scrutinizes his cards. He’s the resident self-made billionaire geek we let in as the ninth member of our tight-knit private clubhouse. Well, Angelo’s two brothers, Dominic and Franko could become the tenth and eleventh members down the road, but for now, we’re happy at keeping the group tight. Angelo’s brothers are still welcomed to come around, but with Dominic in Chicago and Franko off to college down in Baton Rouge, Louisiana, they’re honorary potentials at best.

“Because I figured I’d ask everyone here first,” I say defensively. I pull out my smartphone. The truth is, I didn’t think of Googling her name. Jeff has a damn good point, but I’m not going to stroke his already giant-sized ego right now.

“Don’t sweat it. And what the fuck was all that noise up there? Next time, just shove her panties in her mouth,” Ted suggests. “Or some Christmas garland. There’s more than enough of it around here.”

The rest of the men grimace because Ted is known for his fixation on the kinkiest, most disturbing sexual habits around the clubhouse.

“We’re not all as sick as you,” Jeff jokes.

“You’re into just as much freaky shit as Ted,” I say to him.

“How about you take your vanilla-as-fuck habits and your ten-pound Stetson cowboy hat and go fuck yourself, cowboy?” Jeff answers with a broad smile on his face. “Oh and it’s your move, so get the phone back in your damn pants. Riley Hampton can’t be that important.”

I hope to God that Jeff’s right.