SinfullyYours by Lisa Fox Page A

The sharp kick of cheap vodka burned pleasantly
as it slid down her throat. She put the empty cup aside, balancing it on top of
a garbage can already heaped with at least twenty others. The alcohol went
straight to her head, and she laughed as beads rained down out the sky. Music
blasted from the Cat’s Meow speakers, a pulsating beat that commanded the crowd
to dance. With no desire to resist, she moved her hips to the rhythm, letting
herself get carried away.
    “I think I just found my new favorite song,” a man said from
somewhere beside her.
    He had a deep voice, a panty-melting baritone, and she was
already smiling as she turned toward him. What she found only made her smile
wider. He was tall, well over six feet, with close-cropped caramel-brown hair,
and blue-gray eyes. With his ramrod-straight spine, firm body and air of
tightly controlled dominance, he had to be military. She met his gaze and a
prickly thrill tiptoed down her spine. This was a most fortuitous turn of
events. If she had her way, he was going to be the one she fucked tonight. “It
is a pretty good song.”
    His gaze roamed over her, a lazy, blatant perusal of her
entire body. He started with her face, taking in her eyes, her lips, her
throat, working his way down to her breasts where he lingered for a bit, then
to her hips, over the low-riding waistband of her jeans, farther down to her
platform sandals, and then all the way back up again. Layer by layer of her
clothing fell away under his intense scrutiny, until she was stripped naked
before him, bare and trembling. Her cheeks were flushed when he finally met her
eyes again, and she was ready to take a huge bite out of him. He held her gaze
and smiled. “I definitely like it.”
    Bailey silently thanked the gods of Mardi Gras for providing
her with this man. He was just what she needed. Her gaze flicked to his crotch,
but his pants weren’t tight enough to reveal any interesting details. She wasn’t
worried though. She could already tell from the way he held himself that he had
a ginormous cock. And that he knew how to use it.
    A group of scantily clad, middle-aged women pushed past
them, leaving the rich scent of floral perfumes in their wake. The crowd
thundered with approval when they hit Bourbon Street and promptly flashed the
masses. They were pummeled with beads from all directions, and they cackled as
they collected their rewards.
    Bailey’s new friend laughed as well, amusement lighting up
his handsome face. “This is crazy.”
    She nodded. It was crazy. “Yeah, it’s awesome. I love Mardi
Gras.”
    “Is this your first time in New Orleans?”
    “No, I live here.” She waved her hand in the general
direction of her house. “In the Quarter.”
    “Convenient.”
    “Yes it is.” A man staggered past them, one hand gripping
his unbuckled drooping pants, his semihard cock flapping against his thigh.
Bailey took a step closer to her companion to avoid colliding with the man. The
drunken fool clipped her anyway, knocking her into her new friend. Their eyes
met and tension gathered in the air between them, an electric current that
stirred the fine hairs on her arms. “You know what my favorite part of Mardi
Gras is?”
    He moved closer, towering over her, dwarfing her with his
size. “What’s that?”
    Her gaze flicked to his mouth, then back to his eyes, and
then down to his mouth again. “Getting beads.”
    A slight dip of his head brought his lips close to hers. She
could taste his breath—sweet alcohol, mint, and heat. “I have some pretty good
ones.”
    “You do.” Examining his beads was a great excuse to grope
him, and she took full advantage. He was a solid wall of muscle, his chest warm
and firm beneath her palms, and it wasn’t hard to locate his dog tags under his
cotton T-shirt. She smiled. It was always nice to be right. There were several
military bases not far from the French Quarter. Maybe he was stationed close
by. Bailey bit down on her own tongue to curb