Celeb Fun

"I just wanted to tell you how incredible the show was," he finally managed, his voice a surprising rasp.

Samantha’s smile widened, a mischievous glint dancing in her eyes. "Oh, I know it was. But I suspect you want more than just to tell me that, don't you, American?" She reached out a finger, tracing the collar of his shirt, her touch sending shivers down his spine. "Come in, darling. Let's see what else you've got to say." The bus door, once a barrier, now felt like an open invitation to a world he’d only dreamed of. Liam, no longer timid, stepped inside.

"I suppose you want something?" Samantha asked, her accent heavy in the night air. She fought off a mischievous grin and snapped for him to walk inside. Brain running on empty, he obeyed.

"What is your name, love?" she asked, closing the door.

The lad murmured something unintelligible. There on the bed were a pair of angelically white panties that looked like she had just taken them off. His gaze, even in his dazed state, snagged on them.

When she didn’t get a coherent answer, Samantha shrugged, "I guess it doesn’t matter." Her voice was a low purr, a dangerous sound in the sudden quiet of her apartment. The air was thick with the scent of jasmine and something undeniably female.

Under her cool demeanor, Samantha Fox was hotter than molten lava. This man had a sexy charm. Well-built, a raging hard on that strained the fabric of his jeans, gorgeous eyes that were now fixed on her with a mixture of confusion and raw desire…all he needed was a little coaxing. So she decided the direct approach would be best.

She walked towards him slowly, her hips swaying with deliberate grace. The low lamplight caught the shimmer of her silk robe, hinting at the curves beneath. He stood rooted, his breath catching in his throat as she invaded his personal space. The heat radiating off her was palpable, almost a physical force.

"You're a bit lost, aren't you, love?" she murmured, her fingertips lightly tracing the line of his jaw. A shiver ran through him, a jolt of electricity that brought a flush to his cheeks. His eyes, now less dazed, searched hers, seeking an answer to the silent question that hung between them.

"I think so," he managed, his voice a rough whisper.

Samantha’s smile widened, a slow, knowing curve of her lips. "Good. Because I think I’ve found you." Her hand slid from his jaw to the strong column of his neck, her thumb brushing against the pulse beating wildly there. "And I think you're exactly what I've been looking for."

Her other hand drifted to the front of his jeans, a feather-light touch that nonetheless ignited a fresh wave of heat. He gasped, his body tensing in anticipation, in surrender. She leaned in, her scent enveloping him, her voice barely a breath against his ear.

"Now, tell me," she whispered, her lips almost grazing his lobe, "Are you going to be good for me?" The question was a command, a promise, and a dare, all rolled into one intoxicating package. His hard-on throbbed, a silent, undeniable answer. He no longer cared about his name, or why he was here. All that mattered was Samantha, and the delicious, dangerous game she was about to play.

He'd been absorbed in the low hum of the evening, the clinking of glasses from the next room, but all that faded as she moved. She pressed against him, a soft, yielding warmth that sent a jolt directly through his nervous system. Her arms draped over his shoulders, fingers lightly brushing the nape of his neck, and her breasts, impossibly soft, cushioned against his chest. He felt like his lungs had forgotten how to work.