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Dirty Aristocrat

Georgia Le Carre
CHAPTER 1


Ivan de Greystoke

The Dirty Aristocrat club, London

‘Lord Greystoke? You wouldn’t be related to Tarzan, would you? You sure look a lot like him,’ she said with a brainless little giggle.

‘I could be, if you’re into that sort of thing,’ I drawled lazily.

‘I am,’ she said eagerly, her hands greedily skimming the muscles of my upper-arms.

So I pulled her, I think her name might have been Kitty, into the dark shadows of the club, and slammed her up against the wall.

‘Oooo,’ she cooed, her breath reeking of peppermint and alcohol, and her eyes wide and begging me to fuck her. Against the thin material of her outfit her nipples were straining.

I grabbed her dress—well it could have been a dress if it had not had such a drastic hemline: the poor girl had to fight all night to keep it down—and pulled it right up to her waist, exposing a black satin thong. The material had crept into her pussy and sliced her lips into two juicy pieces of luscious flesh.

Nice.

I got down on my haunches, and with her pussy at eye level, curled my fingers around her sweaty waistband and pulled the ridiculous scrap of cloth down. The lips had been shaved bald, but she’d left a small triangle of curly dark hair above them.

Awww … fuck. Not another fake blonde.

Still she was plenty sexy with a big red mouth that looked like it loved being stretched over a cock, real boobs, a round ass, and extra long legs, but her golden hair was the thing that had pulled me to her like a magnet.

It would just have to be doggy style.

She stepped out of her thong. It was still warm from her body heat. I brought it to my nose and inhaled. The wonderful musk from a night spent rubbing up to a lusty, moist vagina filled my nostrils. I became hard immediately.

‘Oh kinky,’ she squealed. It occurred to me then that her voice was too high and a tiny bit irritating.

Honey, you don’t know the half. I stood up and pulled her dress down over her ass cheeks and gave one of the round globes a good slap. ‘Now, get back on the dance floor, you dirty little slut,’ I growled.

‘Pervert,’ she accused.

‘I like to think so,’ I said and stepped aside.

She giggled and pushing herself off the wall, began her bottom-wriggling walk towards the dance floor. Already her dress was beginning to ride up her ass, and I could see a glimpse of one smooth ass cheek peaking out from under the material. She made no effort to pull her dress back down. Instead she looked back over her shoulder at me, sultry as a summer night in Istanbul.

I smiled slowly, approvingly.

She pretended to drop her purse and with her legs apart and bottom pushed up and out, bent down from the waist to pick it. Yup, both her pussy and asshole were on full display. The flash of so much pink drove my cock crazy.

She made it to the edge of the dance floor and turned to face me, pushed her breasts out, and started rubbing her nipples as she gyrated her hips. With every movement she made, her skirt was creeping higher and higher. There was something animalistic and raw about the way she stood, her thighs spread apart and glistening with sweat, utterly unashamed of the fact that she was making a spectacle of herself.

Looking intently at me, she deliberately lifted her hands over her head so her pussy lips poked out from under her dress. She was giving every man in that club a show. I looked around. Hundreds of eyes were crawling all over her body. Who doesn’t recognize wet pussy? A man dancing next to her accidentally/purposely rubbed his hand along her bare ass cheek.

Crude drunk.

That ass was made for this dick.

I gave him the stink eye as I prowled towards her, hornets in my blood. He jumped out of the way as if he had come across a rabid dog. It was hot and crowded on the dance floor and the beat of the music was as relentless as jungle drums. I stuck my leg between her spread thighs and she ground her hungry pussy onto the leather of my trousers. Her tits were bouncing and shaking with excitement.

She wanted a show.

And fuck was she going to get one.

Picking up her left leg, I curled it around my waist. Her naked pussy splayed open. With one smooth movement my hand slipped down her stomach. Here kitty, kitty. I cupped her pussy.

Fuck she was wet! I ran my middle finger down her slick slit and slipped it into her. I had planned to be subtle, but she grasped my hand with both hers and shoved my finger deeper into her hot, hungry hole. I pushed another two digits in and she groaned in ecstasy and frenziedly ground herself on me.

The other dancers stopped their pathetic little moves and stood in a circle to cheer me on. It was that kind of club, seedy. And this was her thing. Exhibitionism. Letting people watch while strangers finger fucked her. This was what she whispered into my ear at the bar earlier.

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