I love this fucking music.

It’s the kind of stuff that you can dance to all night. Or fuck to all night if you’re in the mood for that. Which—let’s be real here—I’m always in the mood for.

I can’t tell what about this music speaks to me.

Maybe it has to do with me seeing the notes dancing around me. And I don’t mean seeing them in my mind or imagination. The notes are literally dancing around me right now in rotating neon colors, coming straight from a bag of Skittles.

Fucking absinthe, man.

It’s trippy as fuck, especially since I’m watching two bass clefs double team a treble clef like it owes them money.

Maybe it’s the booze, but it’s actually hot to watch.

This place may not have been on my list of places to visit here in Amsterdam, but I’m so happy Becky suggested it.

Between her and Liam, they always know the best places to party, regardless where on the planet we find ourselves.

Speaking of Becky—or the other girls for that matter—I have no fucking clue if they’re even still here. We showed up as a team, grabbed a couple of drinks, and then split apart like Guns N’ Roses. I’m not overly worried about them though; they’re big girls and more than capable of handling themselves should anything pop up.

And given Becky’s current situation, I’m sure she’ll be more than capable of keeping Sammi and Mysti May out of too much trouble.

Not that she really needs to worry about those two.

Everyone knows I’m the party instigator.

If anyone is going to start an international fucking incident, it’s going to be me. And it’s going to be a damn good one I can guarantee that.

Go big or go home I say—and I always like to go big.

Rough hands reach around and grab my exposed, glitter covered tits.

I nearly forgot that I hadn’t been dancing alone.

My mystery man tweaks my nipples between his fingers, and it feels fucking amazing.

I reach down between my thighs and slip my fingers in myself.

“Mmmmm yeah,” I moan.

The man behind me grinds up against me, as I slide my fingers in and out of my pussy to the tempo of his movements. The scruff of his face tingles along my nape. His teeth pull at my earlobe with a growl that makes my ovaries explode.

“You’re a naughty girl,” he whispers in a husky European voice. Kind of familiar, but whatever. All Europeans kind of sound the same, right?

“Oh baby, you have no idea.”

“How about we play a game?”

I lift my fingers from between my thighs and slip them into the mouth of the hard bodied stranger behind me.

He takes them eagerly. His tongue slides over my fingers—like a man who found water in the desert—as the giant cock that he’s packing throbs through the fabric of his pants against me.

“What kind of game did you have in mind?”

My fingers are slowly released from his hungry lips. He takes my hand and slips it between my thighs. I don’t fight him as he forces my fingers to rub against my clit.

“I noticed you have a couple of bracelets.”

“I do.”

“How would you like to earn more?”

I already like where this is going.

“What did you have in mind?”

Mystery Man’s hand lets go of mine—I still keep rubbing my clit anyway—and I feel his fingers slip into my wet cunt with a hard thrust.

“Fuck yes,” I hiss through my pursed lips. “So, what is this game of yours?”

His head moves to the other side of my neck. His lips find my hot flesh. His fingers thrust deeper into me.

“For every naughty thing you do out here on the dance floor, I’ll give you another bracelet. You collect them all, and you can have the grand prize,” he says suggestively.

That sound of a grand prize sounds rather enticing. More so since I know exactly what the grand prize is that he’s referring to.

“Aren’t you afraid that someone will see?”

“Should I be?”

I can feel my mystery man’s lips curl upward into a smile against my neck.

My eyes look around the dance floor, and I can barely make out all the bodies around us.

It’s not that everyone is dancing too quickly or too close—which they are—but all the foam floating and settling everywhere that is obscuring everything. I can’t tell if the people in front of me are Sammi and Mysti May or a couple of cabana boys.

Nor can I tell what they’re doing covered in all that foam. They could be giving each other hand jobs, but it would be almost impossible to tell.

It’s pretty fucking awesome, truth be told.

Everyone here tonight could strip down and fuck in some massive giant orgy without anyone being the wiser. I’ve never been in a club-sized orgy before, but that’s no reason to stop me. It could be fun.

Correction, it will be fun.

Not only do I bring the party; I am the fucking party.

“So—anything off limits?” I ask.

My head leans against his chest. I look up at him, but I can’t make out his features.

I know he has facial hair and a strong jawline—because I can feel it against my skin—but that’s it.

Maybe it’s the foam or the booze, but everything is like a giant haze. It reminds me of people on those Netflix crime documentaries who have their faces blurred out to protect their identities.

I don’t really give a shit.

His body is rock hard—like sculpted fucking granite—and his cock is like a foot-long from Subway.

“Off limits?” Mystery Man laughs and slips another finger into my hungry cunt. “I have no limits.”

Honestly, I’m really pleased that I can’t make out this man’s face. To do so would ruin part of the mystery and allure of who he is. His anonymity makes what’s happening between us incredibly fucking hot.

Besides, men always make the most fucked up faces when they’re about to shoot their load down the back of my throat.

Happens every time. One minute they go from looking like they stepped out of Magic Mike to looking like fucking Goofy from Saturday morning cartoons.

His fingers slip out of my pussy, and I grab his wrist with both hands.

“All right, hot shot,” I tell him. “I’ll play your game.”

I move his hand to my mouth, my lips wrapping around his fingers.

My tongue swirls around and between them as I clean myself off of him. An approving moan slips past his lips and into my ear as I do.

When I get all these bracelets—and I’m going to collect them all—I’m going to devour my prize. And I’m going to milk every last fucking drop of cum that he has and feel it slide down the back of my throat with a smile of fucking victory on my face.

Because if there’s one thing I like more than games and a thick cock, it’s winning. Winning comes with prizes. And I’m a slut for prizes and rewards.

Especially the big cock kind of prizes. Those are the fucking best.

“Just remember that you’re the one who said there were no limits,” I say with a grin.

I’m going to rock this fucker’s world like a hurricane.

By the time I’m done with him, he’s going to be a drooling wreck covered in foam on this club’s floor.