by Penny Wylder
Five
Beyond the curtain is a giant space, all burgundy velvet drapes and purple lights. Aerialists hang from the ceiling and alcoves filled with couches and candles are visible behind misty curtains. It’s magical and the energy is purely sexual. It’s not as blatant as downstairs where everything is on display, instead here the music is quieter, and the moans from the alcoves provide their own soundtrack, with half-hidden glimpses of the acts being performed as we walk by.
“This is our special event space,” Hudson says. “We open it whenever we have a party like this. You should see it when we decorate it for Christmas.”
“I’m sure it’s gorgeous,” I say. He pulls me all the way to the end and into an empty alcove with a luxurious couch and table where there’s champagne in a bucket and a centerpiece of candles on the low table. “How did you already have this set up?”
Hudson smiles. “There are some advantages to being the owner.”
“Meaning you asked for this to be set up when you heard that I was here?” I slide myself down onto the couch, crossing my legs and letting the sheer robe fall open.
He sits down next to me, close enough to touch, but not. “Exactly.”
Everything in here is perfect and gorgeous from the butter softness of this couch to the crystal champagne glasses. He’s the one who leans forward and fills those same glasses and hands me one.
“Why champagne?”
“Why not?”
I give him a look and he laughs. “I thought it was appropriate.”
“Okay, what are we celebrating?”
“Well,” he clears his throat, “we can celebrate that you haven’t spilled anything on me.”
“There’s still time.” I clink my glass against his and take a sip. It’s like a bottled cloud, perfectly dry and fizzy and easily the best champagne that I’ve ever had. “Wow.”
Hudson is smirking. “Here at Club Deep we go above and beyond to make sure that our clients have only the best.”
I take another sip. “But something tells me that not every customer gets this.”
He nods, conceding the point, and I take another drink. It’s hard not to when it’s so damn good. Emptying the glass, I put it on the table and lean closer to Hudson. I can see his eyes are a deep brown in the mask, but not a flat brown. It’s the kind that has depth. If you looked into them when the sun was shining you’d see all different shades of brown and maybe even some green around the edges. All I know right now is that they’re focused on me with an intensity that drags up that arousal that’s becoming familiar tonight. “But really,” I say, lowering my voice. There’s a sensation in the air that feels like it might be broken if I raise my voice any more. “What are we celebrating?”
Hudson tips the rest of his champagne back and places his glass on the table next to mine. “Have you ever felt like something was meant to happen?”
“Depends on what you mean,” I say, giving him a coy smile. I know what he’s referring to. But the champagne is making me bold, and I’m here in my underwear with a sexy man and I want nothing more than to not be myself. So I won’t be. He’ll like this version of me better.
“I mean that when you spilled coffee on me this morning, it felt…” his voice disappears, and he just stares at me.
“Yeah,” I say. “Me too.”
His throat moves as he swallows. “I didn’t actually think that you would come. Even though I hoped that you would.”
I move closer again. “And what did you hope would happen if I did show up?”
“I think we’re moving closer to the realm of fantasy,” he says, smiling.
“Does that mean I’m not allowed to hear it?”
Our lips are so close it almost feels like we’re touching even though there’s a sliver of air between us. One of us has to make the first move, but this feeling is electric—we’re on the verge of something we both know we won’t be able to take back. It will be too big to take back.
“I don’t know if it’s fair for me to tell you my fantasies when I’m trying to help you find yours,” he says softly.
Confidence slithers up my spine and I arch into him, pressing my body into his even though our lips still aren’t touching. “I have a better idea. Why don’t we use your fantasies in order to find mine? That way we both get what we want.” Reaching out, I put my hand on him. Right where he’s hard. I have never done something like this, and it feels good. Exhilarating. I try not to marvel at how big he is through his pants, try not to move or breathe, just let my statement sit. Let him take it in.
Hudson closes the gap and his lips are on mine. Oh god, it’s been so long since I’ve just been kissed, I’ve got butterflies in my stomach and everything. His lips are soft, and as he presses them harder onto mine, I feel his hand on my waist, fingers stroking the skin there. Even just that touch lights me up. My body is reacting so strongly, so quickly, that I blush. Even though it’s been a long time, I didn’t realize that it would feel like this. It’s never felt like this. Ever.
He pulls away and I see the shock in his eyes. I’m glad he felt it too. “Wow.”
“Yeah.”
His hand slips around my neck and pulls me to him again, and I’m flush against him: lips and breasts and legs and I love the feeling of being this close. At the studio, I only politely touch people to show them how to pose, barely brushing them. My own work has no people in it. This closeness feels wild and freeing, like a lightning bolt straight to my brain and I want more. More. Hudson’s mouth opens and his tongue strokes across my lips, a silent request. I open for him, and oh god it’s so much better. He presses deeper into my mouth, his hand firm on the back of my neck, holding me in place while our tongues twist together.
I pull back from him just enough to reach between us, feeling for his buttons. I want a glimpse of what I saw this morning when the coffee spilled. There are abs under this shirt and I want to touch them. Hell, I think I might want to lick them. I undo the buttons, one by one, pushing the fabric aside and letting my fingers drift down his skin. Even with just my fingers, the way his skin feels on mine is intoxicating. I trace my way from his collar bone all the way to his stomach, memorizing him by touch because my eyes are closed.
He pulls back for a breath, and I drag my eyes open. Somehow it feels harder to breathe now that he’s not kissing me. Like now that I’ve started, I can’t stop.
“You never told me,” I say, “what your fantasy was.”
“That’s because it wasn’t just one,” he says, smiling. “In between this morning and now I think I imagined you and me a hundred different ways.”
Those words steal my breath in an entirely new way. I want to know every single way he thought about me. I want him to play out his imagination with my body. I never want him to stop. “Show me.”
“Okay.” He reaches out, behind the couch, and pulls a cord that had been hidden. A tiny bell sounds and that same gauzy back curtain falls in front of our alcove, and I see a girl dressed in black slip in to take our glasses just as Hudson kisses me again. I could get lost in these kisses, surrendering myself to them like a drug. But instead, I kiss him back. I push forward and climb into his lap, straddling his lap and kissing him harder. I can feel his cock between my legs, pressing right where I want it, separated by just a layers of fabric. That suddenly seems like a couple of layers too many. Hudson’s hands find the ties on my robe. “As sexy as you look in this, I can’t wait to see you without it.”
He pushes the robe off my shoulders and I let it fall to the floor behind me. Even though the robe was completely sheer, suddenly being without it feels ten times more intimate. My instinct is to pull away and hide, embarrassed. So I do the exact opposite, shrugging my shoulders out of the straps of my bra and dropping it next to the robe. Hudson’s eyes are locked on my breasts, and his hands slide up my ribs, not stopping until he has one in each hand. My nipples harden as he touches me, and the chill runs through the rest of me.
There’s a small
smile on his face. “Look how perfect they are,” he says. “It’s like my hands were made to hold them.”
“They might have been made for your mouth too.”
He pulls me against him, a glint in his eye, and then his mouth is on me and I’m gasping. His lips are sinful fire. Every pull of his lips drops straight through my stomach and now I’m even wetter than before. My body is practically begging for him. He takes his time, sucking me in long, slow, pulls that make me moan. My nipple is flushed and swollen before he moves to the other one and gives it the same treatment. I’m out of breath when he decides that he’s finished. If this is what it feels like to have his lips on my breasts, I’m honestly not sure that I’ll survive the night. Because I know that we’re not stopping here. “Fantasy number one,” he whispers.
“You wanted to do that?”
“If I wasn’t dying to touch the rest of you, I’d keep going, see if I could make you come with just my lips and my hands on these.” He squeezes, running his thumbs over his handiwork, and it makes me moan. “I bet I could, couldn’t I?”
“I don’t know.” I really don’t. I don’t think any man I’ve been with had ever spent as much time with my breasts as Hudson just did. Possibly combined.
“Well, let me mark that down as something to try in the future.”
“Okay,” I say, still breathless. Meeting his eyes through the mask, I realize I want to see him. I don’t want us to be anonymous for this. I reach for it. “Can I take this off?”
He nods, and I gently pull it away from his face. It’s amazing how something as small and simple as a mask can transform someone. He’s just what I remember—tan skin and perfect features, and now I know how expressive his eyes are and it makes them stand out even more. Hudson’s hands slide under my hair and he unties my mask too, and my breath catches. When he takes off the mask he’ll see me. One layer gone away from this confident persona that I’m putting on. Anxiety crawls in my gut, and I’m not sure I’m ready for him to see me like that. I don’t know that he’ll like the me that’s boring and normal and not a badass in lingerie. But he pulls my mask away from my face and then we’re just two people. My heart is still beating out of my chest. “Hello,” he says.
“Hi.”
I kiss him again, and this time I feel like I’m on fire. He’s turned me on and now I want all of him. I know he’s right there with me. His hands slide up my back, stroking my spine and holding me to him. He lifts be up and back, and I feel the table underneath me. “Lie back.”
“Is this another one of your fantasies?”
The corners of his mouth tip up into a smile. “Maybe.”
I do as he asks, leaning back until I’m flat on the table, even though my legs are still tangled with his. He runs a palm down my body, from my breasts to my stomach and lower, catching my underwear and pulling. I have to lift my hips in order for them to come off, and doing that gives him an absolutely perfect view of my pussy as it appears. The look on his face when he sees it is enough to send heat roaring through my body. I don’t move, holding myself still and letting him look even though my normal instinct would be to blush and close my legs.
“You’re so wet already.” His eyes flicker to mine and back.
“There’s a reason for that.”
He grabs my hips, fingers caressing and supporting, keeping me lifted, and suddenly I realize just how close I am to his mouth. I remember that these curtains are sheer and that I’m naked. “People will be able to see.”
“Maybe I want them to see,” he says, moving his mouth closer to me. “Maybe I want them to watch while I make you squirm and moan.”
My breath goes short in my chest. “How are you going to do that?”
“I’d rather show you than tell you.”
I expect him to dive in quickly, to devour me. I’m hoping for that. I want him to plunge deep inside me with his tongue and make me moan. But he doesn’t do that. Just like earlier, he takes his time, he’s deliberate. I feel his breath first, gently blowing on my clit. It feels intimate in a way I’m not used to and sends chills running up my spine. I’m sensitive and he hasn’t even touched me yet. There. The barest touch of his tongue on my clit, the very tip of it. And again. An again. Slowly, he licks his way into me, every time he touches letting me feel a little more of him. It’s both glorious and maddening. He doesn’t let my hips move, even though I try. I can’t make him let me closer to his mouth. I was wet before he undressed me, but now I’m dripping. I can feel it running down my thighs. I want him to taste it, to drink me in. But he’s still using that tongue of his to drive me crazy, one lick at a time.
Slowly, pleasure takes hold low in my gut. My body latches on to the rhythm of his tongue, and suddenly every stroke feels like pure pleasure. Drawing me closer and closer to a waterfall of pleasure. I want to go over the edge and I want to stay here in this limbo that’s nothing but pure feeling. I can’t do both, and I know what he’s going to choose because Hudson doesn’t stop. He doesn’t hesitate, just keeps going, and I can’t keep quiet. The moans coming out of me are sure to be heard outside of our alcove and the thought makes me even hotter.
I grip the edges of the table, my back arching, trying to both get closer and run from the edge of sensation. I see movement past the curtain. People, more than one, watching me, and I shudder with the knowledge that I’m seen in this state. That I’m not only arousing Hudson but also the strangers beyond the curtain. I’m shaking with the pleasure of his mouth, begging for him to just let me come even though I know—I sense—that he’s only going to do it when he chooses. I collapse back down onto the table, gripping the edges of the table with all my strength. I’m so close.
Hudson covers my clit with his mouth and sucks, and I break open. I scream, wetness gushing from me in a flood. I can feel him drinking me up as the orgasm tears through me, pure white pleasure twisting through my nerves and making me blind and deaf. It feels like fireworks going off inside me, fierce and bright and beautiful before they disappear. His mouth is still on me, fully now, tongue lapping inside my entrance and feasting on me.
I think that he’ll stop. That he’ll let me down easy so I can recover. He doesn’t. Everything just gets more intense. He seals his mouth over me, sucking hard. Again and again until I’m suddenly on that edge again. I’m biting my lip, shaking my head to keep from screaming. I can’t come again. Not this close together. I’ve never done that. I don’t think it’s possible.
But then, tonight has been a night for the impossible.
Between his tongue circling my clit, dragging down across my pussy and back, and the way he’s sucking me like I’m the best thing he’s ever tasted, I can’t stop it. I fall over that invisible edge into a sheer ocean of pleasure. It’s greater than before. So big that I get lost in it, float in it, never want to come down. And still his mouth is there, tasting me, drinking me, consuming me. This time though, he lets me go. He releases my hips onto the table as I come back from what felt like a journey into the dimension of pleasure. My body is limp with it, and I look at him, impossibly aroused again by the sheen left on his lips.
“Fantasy number two.”
I’m still out of breath, and it shows in my voice. “How many fantasies do I get tonight?”
“Just three.”
“Good,” I laugh, “I’m not sure I could handle more than that.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Are you sure?”
The way he’s looking at me, I’m not anymore. I could very well stay here all night, letting him play out his fantasies. My mouth goes dry at the thought. “What’s number three?”
Hudson stands, towering over me, spread across the table as I am. He drops his shirt next to my clothes, and undoes his pants with quick, sure movements. My eyes are glued to him as his pants disappear, and then his underwear, and I’m staring at what must be the most gorgeous cock I’ve ever seen. I’m not the kind of person that would normally describe a cock as gorgeous, but it is. It’s thick and straight
and perfect, and it makes my mouth water just looking at it. I was right to have him use his fantasies to find mine, because I just did. I want to see the look on his face when I put my mouth on him. I want to do to him what he just did to me.
He rolls a condom onto his cock and leans down, pulling my hips to the edge of the table. “Number three. Fucking you while you’re spread out for me like this.”
I feel a gush of wetness, and I blush. The way his words reach into my gut and turn me on, I’ve never felt anything like it before. It’s raw and animal and I don’t know if I’ll ever have enough of it. “Do it,” I say. “Fuck me.”
This time he doesn’t hesitate. Fitting his cock against my entrance, he sinks into me in one long stroke. I groan, the sensation both familiar and new. God, I missed this. I swear, I’m never going this long without sex again. Hudson pushes inside until he’s pushed up against me, his skin flush against mine. It feels so natural to wrap my legs around his hips and lock him against me. I squeeze down on his cock and watch him close his eyes, see the muscles in his jaw jump as he grits his teeth. I like the feeling of him inside me. I like the way it feels to adjust to him, to suddenly be bready for more than this closeness. To want movement and energy and that raw more more more.
I roll my hips and he groans. “Stop waiting,” I say. “Fuck me.”
He does. Pulling back, he thrusts in and pleasure explodes in my body. I’m already so sensitive from my two orgasms that it’s like a door to pleasure has opened. Hudson is filling me up over and over again, and that fullness sends off crackles of furious pleasure racing across my skin. I can feel it already building, and I know that I’m going to come again. I’m moaning again, and I press my heels into his ass, urging him on harder. My hands explore like they have a mind of their own. His chest, his hair, his back. It’s too much and not enough. “Harder,” I whisper in his ear, even though it sounds more like a moan. “Please take me harder.”