Wonder Woman turned to leave, only to run smack into Captain America. Could the man stand any closer? His proximity smothered her.
All sound in the club receded, and it was only the two of them in a sea of costumes. Stillness, stark and indefinable, embraced them both until someone jostled her elbow and all the noise crashed back. Instinctively, she raised her indestructible bracelets to ward him off.
Behind his mask, daredevil dark eyes gleamed at her and his lips curved in a slow, sexy smile. “No need to defend yourself against me, babe. We’re both superheroes on the side of justice.” His voice was deep yet distorted against the background noise.
Wonder Woman swallowed hard. She was certain she’d need protection against this man—he was one fine Avenger. She couldn’t fully see his face, yet she instinctively knew he’d be handsome. No doubt too handsome for his own good.
There was no padding to his costume; his bodysuit fit like a second skin. He was six feet of broad shoulders and ripped muscle. Tight spandex cupped his groin, leaving little to her imagination.
Captain America leaned in, his power raw and tangible. His cologne was designed to arouse desire and passion, an orgasm in a bottle. “Are you here alone or in the company of Superman and Batman?” he asked.
Alone made her available. While the pulse of the club had gotten under her skin, she wasn’t looking for a one-night stand. Not even with a Marvel comic book hero who’d mastered the martial arts and was known for his intelligence, strength, and super reaction time.
“The members of the Justice League are always close by.” She raised her voice above the music, letting him assume the trinity was in attendance. “Are you here with the Avengers?”
“Only the Incredible Hulk,” he stated. “He hooked up with a bloodsucker.”
The Victorian vampire. Wonder Woman had noticed the vamp circling the crowd, looking for her next victim. The Hulk would get fanged.
The captain’s gaze narrowed and his jaw shifted. “Are you a regular?” he wanted to know.
Was he wondering if she was a serial dater; if she slept around?
“This is my virgin haunt.” She strained her voice to be heard. “How about you?” She roped his arm tightly with her Lasso of Truth so he could not lie.
“First time for me, too,” he said.
“You’re not into nightly costumes?”
His gaze glittered behind his mask. “Only if my woman wants to dress up privately for me in the bedroom.”
Her lasso went slack. She could imagine a very naughty nurse stripping for this man, as well as the hot, sweaty sex that would follow. He’d have satin sheets and skilled hands. He was satisfaction guaranteed.
She blushed, and desperately hoped it was too dark in the club for Captain America to witness her embarrassment.
His grin revealed dimples, and her whole body flushed. The man was a mind reader.
“Have you eaten?” He nodded toward the buffet. “There’s chicken witch-fingers, miniature bat burgers, and Bloody Marys.”
“I’ve had dinner.” Her throat was so raw from shouting, she now sounded like Minnie Mouse. She’d soothe the scratchiness later with a cup of tea with honey.
The music soon turned eerie and hauntingly slow. The floor reverberated with a deep, sexual bass. Goose bumps skated down her spine. All around her couples pressed together and kissed as if it were New Year’s Eve.
Boldly, the captain propped his shield against the wall. His hands now free, he made his move and drew her body flush against his. Her booted heels raised her to his height. Her palms splayed across a chest as solid as armor plate. Her lasso dangled dangerously near his groin. She inhaled their closeness.
They shared air, breath, and heat. The darkness captured and seduced; their intimacy was compelling. Her heart slammed hard and her stomach shimmied. He consumed her.
The man was physical perfection. For one hot moment, she savored the superhero. They swayed together, their attraction dominant. Her inhibitions slid down her legs like a pair of silk panties.
She could handle one dance before she sneaked into the crowd and out the side door. She’d hail a cab and disappear into the night. Too bad she didn’t have her invisible plane.
Beneath the orange strobe lighting, Captain America’s strong hands now spanned her waist, then worked higher. He brushed the underside of her breasts and her nipples tightened in response. She ached to be touched further.
His warm breath fanned her cheek, a forewarning of his kiss. He claimed her mouth like a conquering hero. The man was all touch, tongue, and temptation. His stubble scraped the soft curve of her chin.
He stroked down her ribs, thumbing her navel.
He squeezed her hips with sexual urgency.
She sighed, and he swallowed the sound.
Wild currents built within her as she wound her arms tightly around his neck. Her fingers dug into his back.
He grabbed her bottom and their bodies were grafted. The spandex made them fluid and seamless as they simulated sex. She rolled her hips to feel him fully, and his bulge pronounced him supersized.
Friction sparked, and their chemistry shot through the roof. Desire zinged between her legs. She went damp for him.
Time swelled, and his kisses deepened. He bit her lower lip and sucked her tongue. The moments seemed surreal. Caped in darkness and anonymity, they groaned and grew impatient. She clawed his shoulders and he stroked the crease of her ass.
The rhythm of the night overtook them. They dry humped, harder, faster, all control lost to her wetness and his rigid inches.
Her skin stretched, taut yet tender.
His erection strained.
His heart seemed to beat in her breast. They were as close to being one as two people could get without being naked.
Sensations fogged her brain. His desire branded her. There was no delaying the inevitable.
The intensity was insane.
So crazy, she climaxed.
She came apart in his arms on the dance floor.
Spasms of release left her body liquid, but shame soon cleared her head. What had she done?
She’d humped a comic book hero at a club known for anonymous pleasure. He’d teased her and turned her on. She’d let herself be taken. She’d fallen to the darkness and decadence and one erect Avenger.
This was so not her. She needed to leave.
Hand-to-hand combat was Wonder Woman’s specialty, and a strong elbow to the captain’s ribs freed her. She forced long, deep breaths into her lungs and clutched the golden lasso protectively to her chest.