by Calista Fox
Not one to push her luck, she returned her attention to the fine art of walking without stumbling in front of her hosts again.
But Drake’s head bent to hers once more and he said in his deep, sexy tone, “I suppose I could break the rules this one time. The models sign a waiver acknowledging they’re being videotaped.”
A very wicked thrill shot down her spine so fast, Shana nearly missed a step again. Even with her concentrated effort.
“You really believe all of the models succumb to primal mating instincts because they’re naked and the opportunity presents itself?”
He grinned down at her, making her feel as though she’d actually posed a relevant question. Surprise, surprise.
He countered by asking, “You really believe they can resist the temptation?”
Shana’s teeth sank into her lower lip. Lucky for her, she was wearing twelve-hour, stay-put lipstick in crimson, or she’d be wearing more of the lipstick on her teeth than her lips.
As she contemplated her answer to Drake’s query, he continued to watch her, a scorching-hot look on his handsome face, an intriguing challenge in his dark eyes.
Even a social misfit could sense physical attraction. It existed between her and Drake in spades. It also existed between her and Jane. She couldn’t deny it, even being as inexperienced as she was in this arena. Their interest in her was genuine. She had a lifetime of false flattery under her belt to know the difference. The men who’d come onto her during her international touring years had all wanted something from her, yes. But it wasn’t her body, per se. It wasn’t whatever charm or wit or intellect she might possess that enticed them. It was her name. Her prestige. Her fame. Her fortune.
These two fascinating people knew her past. They’d admitted as much. But that was not what drew them to her, she was certain of it. What she felt right now was their attraction to the person she’d become. The person she still strove to be.
It was strange how it all fell into place for Shana, but it happened quickly and it couldn’t be denied. These were two people with honest intentions. Potentially wicked intentions, sure. There was no missing the naughty sparkle in Drake’s eyes or the quick rise and fall of Jane’s chest, echoing her excitement as though she’d shouted it into a canyon for all to hear.
In the end, Shana knew enough about human nature, had met enough people with pretenses only meant to suit their needs and fulfill their desires, to know when someone was shining her on.
Drake and Jane were not.
Of course, that didn’t mean she had a clue as to what they were really up to and what she was supposed to do about it. But she felt comfortable in their presence and she wanted to know them better. She wanted them to find her interesting enough to let her into their world.
A shocking turn of events from the simple invitation she’d thought she’d be accepting this evening, but one she found appealing. There was a certain fear that walked hand in hand with her vulnerability, but she’d never felt more inspired or motivated to unravel herself from that fear than she did at this moment. With Drake. With Jane.
“Well,” she said in that breathy voice that had replaced her normal one. Her heart picked up several extra beats as her pulse seemed to radiate from every single erogenous zone she possessed, making her body vibrate. “If it wouldn’t cause you any problems to show me what really happens on stage, I think witnessing the reality of the situation might be…beneficial…to me.”
The idea of spying on a few of the scenes heightened her arousal, already in high gear because of her two new acquaintances.
They reached an elevator where a security guard stood sentinel before the gleaming brass doors.
“My office is upstairs,” Drake informed her. “Shall we?”
The guard pushed the button on the richly paneled wall and the doors slid open with a soft whoosh that made Shana’s stomach flip. Were it not for Yvette’s obvious advocacy of this unique opportunity, Shana might have changed her mind. Cowardly backed out…just so she didn’t make a fool of herself. Not that it’d been smooth sailing so far, what with her two left feet and bundled nerves. But she was ready to experience something different. Something significant. Something outside her realm of normalcy and reclusiveness.
So as Drake made a sweeping gesture with his large hand, she stepped inside the elegantly appointed elevator and silently said “to hell” with her insecurities.
Chapter Three
Shana stood between Drake and Jane, tightly clutching her small purse with both hands. Drake stole a glance at her, captivated by the way she trembled ever so slightly, revealing both apprehension and exhilaration.
He found it impossible to believe some of the things Jane had said about this woman earlier, particularly about her not being comfortable with her body. Drake found every inch of her alluring. She had a striking face, with wide-set, amber-colored eyes. They were as rich as the finest scotch he’d ever poured and they sparkled beneath the soft glow of the elevator lights. Her cheekbones were high and well-defined. Almost delicate looking and very prominent. Her lips were full and painted a deep crimson color that complemented her bronze skin.
From his research, he’d learned her father was from Playa Del Carmen outside of Cancun and her mother was American. She’d been born in the States and had dual citizenship, but she’d lived her first few years in Mexico. Her real name was Shania Gonzalez. In her younger years, she’d been an international sensation in the classical music world, and of course Drake’s curiosity burned to know what had made her step out of the limelight after she’d turned eighteen.
Not step out, he mentally amended. Drop out. The woman had put an entire ocean and the US legal system between her and her past existence in Europe, where she’d toured. She’d solicited a court order to help her change her identity and had reemerged a completely different person.
He found this both intriguing and confusing. What had been so bad about touring with a world-class, critically acclaimed orchestra—which she’d headlined as Shania Gonzalez—that had caused her to completely reinvent herself?
He’d been fascinated by her before he’d ever met her in person. But now… He was thoroughly intrigued. And entranced. Making him worry again that perhaps letting Jane have her way this evening wasn’t such a good idea. His usual steel resolve when it came to maintaining some distance between himself and humans was slipping fast with this woman.
Not helping his plight, from the other side of the elevator Jane said to Shana, “I hope you don’t find us too forward. We’ve both been anxious to meet you. Ever since Yvette mentioned the two of you were friends.”
Drake slid a glance toward Shana. Surprise flitted across her face before she said, “That’s very flattering. Thank you.” She was quiet a moment as they exited the elevator and strolled down the marbled hallway to his office. They entered the spacious room as she added, “I’m curious to know how you came up with the concept for the club.”
Her gaze lifted to Drake. For a split second, he wished he possessed Jane’s gift. He’d give anything to know what made this woman tick. He could see quite clearly from the inquisitive spark in her eyes that she was as fascinated by him as he was by her.
That realization made him charge ahead when he knew he should tread lightly.
Taking her by the hand—which she allowed—he guided her over to the sofa and sat, subtly coaxing her to join him. A low fire burned in the hearth across from them. Jane poured the champagne and handed out full glasses. Then she sat on the other side of Shana and reached for the iPad on the end table. She scrolled through a few camera angles before settling on one. The first curtain was about to rise on a body mural and the three male models were placing themselves accordingly, skipping the foreplay and getting right to it.
Or perhaps, given the fact they all had erections, they’d already familiarized themselves with one another and were primed for the intimate body connections. All of them wore condoms in preparation for the completion of their mural.
Two of the men faced each other, with a modest gap between them. They were painted from head to toe in a mahogany color with high- and lowlight streaks that produced the grain on the pseudo-wooden sides of the bookshelf they were creating. Another man, painted from the hips down in the same fashion as the others—for the obvious purpose of blending in with his wood-painted partner—but covered just above the hips and upward in a nearly translucent green color against his pale skin, comprised the glass shelf. He pressed his backside to one model and bent over. The standing model gripped his partner by the waist and thrust his cock into him. Both men groaned in pleasure as Shana gasped.
Drake bit back a grin. “I failed to mention that all pairings aren’t necessarily boy-girl.”
“Um, yes. I can s-see that.” Her cheeks flamed and the rosy color complemented her skin tone. Her amber eyes were wide with shock, but she continued to watch the onscreen action as though captivated. Her mouth gaped slightly though, confirming her surprise.
With his arms plastered to his sides, the man serving as the glass shelf took the other cock in his mouth, drawing it in deep and sucking hard, if the grunt of ecstasy from his partner were any indication.
Drake leaned in close to Shana and whispered in her ear. “The concept for the club wasn’t actually mine,” he said, answering the question he suspected she’d forgotten she’d even posed minutes before. “Not entirely, that is. I intended to open an upscale, exclusive nightclub, but given my love of art, it wasn’t difficult for Finn to talk me into adding the gallery and the Sunday brunch where we auction off photos and commissioned paintings of the work from the Friday and Saturday night shows.”
The model whose cock was being enthusiastically serviced—until he placed the potted plant he’d been holding on the flat back of his glass-shelf-painted lover—seemed to hold his breath as the velvet curtain began to rise.
“They hold this position for two minutes,” Jane chimed in, her voice delicate and refined, but laced with a hint of arousal. “No moving allowed.”
Shana drew in a deep breath, then let it out slowly. “That must be torture.” Her eyes were glued to the screen. “In such an erotic way…”
Drake’s arm draped along the top of the sofa, brushing against Shana’s shoulders and making her squirm in her seat. Still leaning close to her, he murmured, “I know how tormenting it is to not be able to act on primal instincts and physical needs. In this case, were it us required to stand perfectly still like that, the need for me would be to pump my cock in and out of your tight pussy. For you, the natural need would be to squeeze and milk my cock.”
She gasped again. This time it was a soft, sexy sound that was tinged not so much with shock as it was excitement.
She was quiet, and for a moment, he wondered if he’d gone too far. He watched her intently as her head slowly swiveled in his direction, her gaze meeting his. The flash of lust in her eyes was impossible to miss, but it was mixed with uncertainty and confusion. Yet for all her supposed insecurity, she didn’t look away from him. She did, however, lick her crimson-colored lips, which drove him absolutely wild.
Her enticing chest rose and fell with her accelerated breathing. She appeared stunned into silence, but so entranced she couldn’t tear her gaze from his. Two minutes passed. They continued to stare at each other. Drake saw the curtain drop from the corner of his eye and Jane turned the sound up a notch as the models succumbed to the natural desire to finish what they’d started.
One let out a low groan.
“Suck me hard,” another said in a strained voice.
The model positioned between the other two did as instructed as the man behind him pumped his cock into him while gripping his hips. The fake plant on the “glass shelf” took a violent tumble to the stage floor.
Sharp grunts and lusty groans filled the quiet office in which a now-captive audience of three sat. Shana broke her gaze with Drake, though he still studied her closely as her attention shifted to the flat panel above the fireplace.
He could see what happened onscreen from his peripheral vision and was completely in tune to how Shana reacted to it. Her body was rigid as she sat perfectly still on the sofa, her back ramrod straight. She’d set her purse on the coffee table when she’d accepted her glass of champagne from Jane and now wrapped one hand around the stem of the crystal flute and one around the bowl, surprisingly not shattering it with what appeared to be a tight grip.
Her breathing was shallow and she pressed her legs together as she watched the threesome behind the red curtain.
The model fucking the bent-over partner reached around and wrapped his long fingers around his lover’s cock, his hand feverishly stroking the erect penis in time with his quick, forceful bucking.
“That’s it,” the man receiving the blowjob said. “Fuck him harder. He takes me deeper each time.”
“Oh!” The word seemed to fall unbidden from Shana’s parted lips. Her eyes widened and Drake saw another patch of pink on her flawless skin as it crept up her neck. She swallowed hard and her pulse jumped at her throat, tempting Drake.
He didn’t drink human blood anymore, but that did not keep him from craving a taste of hers.
A dangerous yearning, to be sure. But a natural compulsion he couldn’t help.
He tore his gaze from the beauty beside him and focused on the screen as he sought a distraction from his errant and torturous thoughts. Her blood wasn’t the only thing he wanted to taste. Her scent was intoxicating—downright mouthwatering, in fact. He was painfully aroused, his cock straining against the confining material of his boxer-style briefs and his suit pants.
Sitting so close to her was hardly wise. His arm along the back of the sofa could easily drape over her bare shoulders. His fingers burned to touch her skin. He’d already learned it was warm and supple. Simply holding her hand for the two brief times he had made him desperate to stroke every inch of bare skin that covered her gorgeous curves.
He fought the temptation, though. No easy feat. Somehow, he managed to summon enough willpower to keep from reaching over and grazing his fingers along the line of bronze flesh exposed by the high slit in her dress.
His diversionary tactic of watching the models didn’t work. The onscreen action wasn’t particularly stimulating to him, so his thoughts continued to drift to Shana, sitting right beside him, her nipples pebbled tight and tenting the satin material of her dress. Her breathing was uneven and her pulse raced, as evidenced by the vein in her neck that kept drawing his attention.
The voices echoing in his dimly lit, cozy office rose as the thrusting and sucking and stroking reached a fevered pitch and the sexual tension mounted.
“Fuck that tight ass,” said the model whose cock was in the mouth of the one being fucked. “I’m going to come.” His fingers were twined in his partner’s hair, making the painted strands stick out in all directions.
“Oh, yeah.” The man bucking wildly as he jerked off his lover grunted. “Clench your cheeks and squeeze me tight. Fuck my cock.” The grinding against his pelvis made him groan loudly.
The model getting blown detangled one hand from the strands of hair and cupped his own balls, rolling them and lightly tugging on them as his breathing turned ragged. “That’s it,” he said as his eyes drifted closed. “Just like that. Suck me hard. Oh…oh…oh, yes!”
His body convulsed as he came. His partner released him and let out a sharp groan as the fist encasing his cock pumped faster.
“Give it to me good,” he said in a hoarse voice. “Yeah, that’s what I want. Oh fuck, yes!”
The spasms from his orgasm clearly caused him to squeeze his lover tighter, because the man hammering into him finally allowed his own release. He let out a satisfied groan as his body jerked and his cock pushed deep into the haven it’d found.
More grunts and sighs of pleasure followed when they finally detangled themselves from one another.
The room fell silent as Jane turned off the security monitor.
Shana blinked several times, still staring at the now-blank flat panel. She was clearly at a loss for words.
Drake wanted to reach for her hand again, but she was quick to move forward in the seat and set her champagne glass on the coffee table. He noticed her hands shook.
“Well, that was…enlightening,” she said in a provocative voice that ignited every sexual craving Drake had worked so hard to suppress this evening.
He wanted to crush his mouth to hers and kiss her hard and passionately. He wanted to haul her body up against his and feel every luscious inch of her pressed to him. He wanted to lift her skirt and thrust his cock deep into her, sating every animalistic desire gripping him so tightly. He could barely hold back. It was hell to do so, but uncertainty marred her lovely features, making her brow furrow. He wanted to smooth away the wrinkle and reassure her that it was okay to be aroused, to be swept away by the sensuality of the moment.
Yet she was already retreating from it, running scared. He could see it in her eyes.
“I should probably, you know, get back to Yvette.” She stood. He let her go.
Disappointment washed over him, but it was followed by a hint of relief. He’d dodged a silver bullet. Letting her walk out on him was the smartest thing he could do. If she stayed a minute longer, he feared he’d pounce.
He watched as she collected her handbag and rounded the sofa a bit shakily. She pressed her clutch to her breasts and made a beeline for the door.
Over her shoulder, she said, “I appreciate your time. I’ll email you with any questions I have, if that’s all right.”
“Certainly,” Drake said, forcing the displeasure from his tone. She wasn’t even interested in seeing him again. Not even a phone call. Rather, she intended to contact him via impersonal email. If she contacted him at all.
That dismal thought had him on his feet in the next second, just as she reached for the decorative lever on the door.