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Friends with Benefits

By:Amy Brent

Chapter 1

Steven


From my spot at the bar, I had the perfect view of the dance floor  below. I sat with my back to the bar, my elbows lazily draped on its  surface behind me. Beside me, my buddy Chance was ordering us another  round of beers. While he paid the bartender-a tall blonde with arms  jingling in gold jewelry-I scanned the dance floor and took note of all  the scantily clad bodies that were just begging for me to approach them.


A young woman with short black hair and red lipstick caught my eye. Her  skin glowed blue and pink beneath the flashing lights of the club, and  she gave me a sultry smile and a small wave. I returned the gesture with  a slight nod of my head and looked up and down the length of her body.  Her long legs led to an ass that was hard not to stare at. She wore a  short leather skirt and a black lace top, and her cleavage was  whispering sweet nothings to me. She turned sideways, her eyes still  locked on mine, and began twisting her hips in a tantalizing rhythm to  the music.


Chance nudged my elbow and passed me a beer.


"Thanks, man," I said, turning to my friend and tapping the neck of my beer bottle against his.


Chance spun around on his barstool and assumed the same position as me.  "Spot any hotties worthy of your prowess?" Chance asked, shooting me a  smug look before nodding his chin toward the dance floor.


"Perhaps," I said, searching for the short-haired girl who had captured my attention. I couldn't find her.


The club, Dante's, was busier than usual. There were so many bodies  packed into the place that the black velvet curtains covering the brick  walls were nearly impossible to see. For a long time, the building had  been used as a bakery, and the new owner had flipped it into a club. He  hadn't wanted to remove the old masonry on the walls, as the bricks were  almost seventy-five years old, so he opted to cover them with plush  fabrics instead. It gave the place a very gothic, intimate vibe when it  wasn't lit up with flashing neon colors and strobe lights.


There was suddenly a hand on my knee.


I turned to meet a pair of sharp green eyes beneath dramatic black  eyebrows. It was the short-haired girl from the dance floor. Her red  lips were curled up in a soft smile, and she was standing with one hip  cocked to the side, giving her body a sensual curve that sent a shock of  excitement straight to my groin.


"Hi," she purred, one of her fingers tracing a circle on my thigh.  "Would you like to accompany me to the bathroom? A man like you doesn't  come around often, and I want to take advantage of," she scanned me up  and down, and her green eyes burned, "all of you."


I wasn't the sort of man who ever needed to be asked twice. In fact, I  usually didn't have to be asked at all. This was a nice change of pace. I  stood and took her hand in mine, winked deviously at Chance, and strode  determinedly toward the restrooms. I led her through throngs of people  dancing in clusters along the way. Most of them parted to make way for  me; this was something I was used to. I was taller than almost anyone in  the club, and I had been told on numerous occasions that I possessed a  certain presence. Upon asking for clarification, I had been informed  that I had the air of a man who shouldn't be fucked with. I used this to  my advantage, always.


The restrooms at Dante's were elegant places-especially the women's. I  had been in it more than a handful of times. So, I knew where the girl  was taking me when she took the lead and marched past the floor to  ceiling mirrors on the east wall, past the high-backed, plush chairs in a  row at vanity tables for women to fix their makeup, and past the sinks.  Finally, she stopped at the door at the end, lifted her fist, and  knocked.


Fifteen seconds later a blonde girl with a definite wobble in her step  stumbled out, gave us a sheepish drunk smile, and continued past us.  Other women were shooting us looks that were divided fifty-fifty between  disapproval and envy.


The short-haired girl stepped into the handicapped cubicle, grabbed a  fistful of my shirt, and pulled me in behind her. Before I closed the  door behind us, I flashed the women in front of the mirrors my best  devil may care grin. One rolled her eyes. The other four giggled.


When I turned back to the girl in the stall with me, she had already  pulled her shirt off over her head and stood proudly before me. She was  wearing a sheer lace black bra. Her nipples were hard beneath the thin  fabric. I stepped closer to her, and she tilted her chin up to look at  me. She wasn't tall by any means; the top of her head came only to my  shoulders, and she was wearing some damn high shoes.


I approved of her choice of location. We had plenty of space in this  stall. It hosted its own sink and counter beneath a large mirror. I  turned her back to the mirror strategically. I had done this before, and  I wanted the view from all angles.         

     



 


Her eyes flicked back and forth between mine as I reached out and put a  hand on her waist. I drew her to me and held her against me before  cupping the back of her head in my other hand and lowering my face to  hers. I pressed my lips against her mouth, tasting her lipstick and her  tongue. She had been drinking vodka crans, and she tasted sweet. A  ripple of desire tore through me. I pushed my tongue between her teeth  and explored her. She moaned breathlessly into my mouth, and it was  enough to propel me into action.


I found the hem of her skirt and tugged it upward. It took a little bit  of effort to get it over her ass. Once it was sitting up around her  waist, I grabbed hold of her bottom and squeezed, holding her to me more  fiercely as she pinched my bottom lip between her teeth. I glanced at  the mirror and admired the shape of her from behind. She had dimples on  her lower back, and the curve of her spine was too much temptation for  me not to run my fingers down the length of the middle of her back. She  also wasn't wearing panties.


My kind of girl.


She cooed in my ear, nibbled my earlobe, and then rained kisses down my throat.


What she was doing felt too good for me to still have my pants on. I was  pressing up against the inside of my jeans and was eager to be free.  She seemed to sense this, and her fingers fell to my belt buckle. She  continued to kiss my neck as she undid the buckle, then my fly.


She leaned away from me once my pants were undone and looked down. She  wanted to see what she was working with, apparently, and I wasn't going  to keep her waiting. My jeans fell down around my ankles, and I pulled  my boxers down.


That gleam in her eyes burned brighter as she stared at me. She pinched  her bottom lip between her teeth and stepped in closer again. Her  fingers found the hem of my shirt which she pulled over my head. Then  she ran her fingers all over my chest and stomach, feeling the ridges  and grooves of my body.


"I was hoping this is what was hiding under there," she whispered.  "Hoping but not really expecting." She smiled coyly at me and took me in  her hand. She worked me over, slowly at first, and built up to a  quicker rhythm that had me thanking my sheer good luck that she had the  nerve to bring me into this bathroom in the first place.


"Turn around," I said, taking her by the hips and spinning her away from me.


She spun to face the mirror and watched me in the reflection. I kissed  her neck and shoulder while I undid her bra. It fell to the floor and  became pinched beneath the heel of her shoe.


Her breasts were perky and firm. I cupped them in my hands and pressed  my cock into her back. She rested her head against my chest and  continued to watch me in the mirror.


"Spread your legs," I demanded.


She widened her stance and never took her eyes off me. "Fuck me," she pleaded. "Fuck me as hard as you can."


I planned on it.


I let go of her breasts. She replaced my hands with her own. I put my  hand on her upper back and pushed her down over the sink. She submitted  and looked over her shoulder, watching as I took my cock in my hand and  pressed it up gently against her pussy. She was so wet and so soft. I  could feel my pulse in the tip of my cock as I rubbed up against her.


"Please," she moaned.


I eased into her, gliding against her velvety soft walls. She was tight,  and she hugged me firmly as I entered her. She moaned once she had  taken all of me. Her back arched more dramatically, and she lifted her  face to the ceiling, closing her eyes.


I withdrew and entered her again. I repeated this until neither of us  could bear it any longer, and then I gripped her hips and buried myself  in her over and over. She reached out and clutched the counter as a gasp  of pleasure escaped her lips. That was all the encouragement I needed.


I fucked her harder. Her legs shook. A cry of pleasure came from her, and the sound only made me want to work her over more.


I pulled out of her when I was about to come and turned her back around.  She was unsteady on her feet now, a sure sign that I was doing a good  job. I lifted her up with my hands under her ass. She wrapped her arms  around my neck and braced herself on my shoulders. I felt the tip of my  cock pressed against her clit. She took one arm off my shoulder, took  hold of me, and eased me back inside her. Her eyes rolled back in her  head, and a smile of delight curled the corners of her mouth.

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