by Kira Barker
But I didn’t need to see what was going on, really, when I felt demanding hands grope for the hem of my dress and lift it up, folding it neatly so that the lower half ended up around my waist. My pulse spiked, not just with arousal, but because it was obvious that, should anyone walk in on us like this, we’d likely cause a scandal, and I wasn’t sure if Alison would have approved of that. The glare of the spotlight would easily hide us from curious eyes from the main floor, but it only took a single person venturing closer to the podium, and we’d be in full view.
The sound of a zipper was almost drowned out but the murmur of conversation below, but I immediately felt Darren’s body heat as he stepped up to me and drew me flush against his body, one arm slung across my waist. Then that hand dipped between my legs, finding my clit easily, and he started rubbing me with alacrity. I bit down on my lower lip, trying to stifle a moan, but was unable to stop myself from grinding back against where I felt his hard cock press between my naked ass cheeks.
“You like that, do you?” he whispered into my ear as his fingers dipped lower for a second, gathering up lubrication to make his stimulation even more powerful. “Do you get off on being fucked like this, where everyone can see us?”
It seemed more of the matter of him greatly enjoying that, but I couldn’t deny that the idea did a certain something for me.
“Yes.”
“Aren’t you worried that someone might see us?” he went on, then briefly withdrew his hand so he could put on a condom.
I waited, a little surprised at how impatient I suddenly felt, but before long Hunter’s almost completely covered body was pressed against mine. His hand slid between my legs again, but he didn’t protest when I reached between us and guided his cock to my entrance.
“Worried? Yes. But right now I don’t fucking care—“
“Me neither,” he ground out and thrust into me, sending me onto my toes from the amazing sensation alone. The gasp I uttered was loud enough to be audible above the murmur of the crowd, and Hunter used his free hand to put a finger lightly over my mouth.
“Hush. No need to invite anyone else to the party.”
There really wasn’t, but it was damn hard not to react as he withdrew, then put both hands on my hips so he could hold me steady as he started plowing into me from behind. With nothing in front of me to brace myself against, my heels a tad bit too high to help steady me, I relied on him to keep me balanced, which incidentally made me clench even harder around him.
Already I felt need and lust roll through my body, the onslaught of sensations almost too intense but making me ache for more stimulation all the same. Under different circumstances I would have felt annoyed at how quickly my body was ready to succumb to him. Highly unprofessional, that, but the fact that Darren got off on making me come was stark in my mind right then, helping me relax.
I felt my gaze glaze over, my attention drawn inwards, centered on his cock driving into me, but then my eyes latched onto a single figure casually lounging at the foot of the stairs leading to the opposite side of the stage. Ray was watching us intently, his eyes drinking in my half-naked body, a smirk on his face.
I tensed, momentarily taken off guard, but whatever twisted set of fetishes made me get off on doing what I do in the first place got a nice boost from this, and I felt myself start to orgasm, incapable of holding back another moment. Hunter must have felt it—not that hard, from how my body went still, then dissolved into shudders—and drew me closer, until his lips could press against the side of my neck with abandon. My eyes rolled back into my head and I let myself go, riding out the high.
When I looked again, there was no trace of Ray anywhere in sight.
Hunter suddenly stilled, but not in his own release, and a moment later he turned me around, using my momentum to drag me further away from the stairs so he could press my back against the wall that separated the stage from the ballroom. It was dark enough that I could barely make out the hungry look on his face before he leaned in, his lips seeking mine, and I was quick to grab his dick and lead him back into me. With my arms wrapped around his neck and one leg hitched up to his hip, he had even better leverage than before, and I swallowed the sounds of his climax with deep, then languid kisses as he followed me over the edge.
Our quick tryst left both of us panting heavily, and I felt him smile against my lips before he parted from me after a last, lingering kiss.
“I don’t think you should wear underwear anywhere I take you,” he offered, laughter ringing in his voice. I smiled back at him, relishing the moment as he stroked a warm finger down the side of my face, unsticking a lock of hair that had become plastered there.
“I can see the merit of this executive decision,” I offered, then reached for the hem of my dress to put it back into place. There were some creases now due to how we’d manhandled the material, but most of that could be explained away but sitting several long hours earlier.
Briefly, I wondered if I should tell him about Ray, but I decided that now was not the time for that.
Darren removed the condom and disposed of it in a nearby trash can, then put himself away neatly. He looked at me for a moment, then shook his head, somewhat ruefully.
“Something wrong?”
“Not at all,” he assured me upon his return and stole another kiss from me. “It’s just that part of me resents the necessity of using protection. The idea of you spending the rest of the evening with my cum dripping down your thighs with no one the wiser does hold a certain, almost possessive fascination.”
I hastily bit down on my tongue to keep myself from replying, but he must have seen something on my face, because he snorted. “I’d pay for dry cleaning, don’t worry.”
“It’s not that,” I offered, although the unsanitary state of my lower regions in the scenario he’d described was part of my less than favorable reaction. “And it’s not like my cleaner hasn’t had to deal with similar stains before.”
“What, then? Besides your work ethics and the obvious safety concerns?”
He got me there, because that had been the easy answer I’d wanted to offer next, trying to hide the truth. But his wits—and the hard look he taxed me with—made that impossible now. I hated breaking one of Brigitte’s golden rules—always try to make the client feel like he’s the only one in the world—but he was pretty much leaving me no other option.
“For tonight, and however long you pay me, I’m at your disposal, and my desire is to fulfill your every need. But that doesn’t mean I have to feel comfortable when you treat me like just another luxury item that you choose to put on display and then piss all over to mark your territory.”
A lesser man might have been annoyed by that statement, but Darren’s lips drew up into a wry smile.
“So you don’t like the idea? None of your clients ever get possessive?”
“I try to keep them from developing the notion that they can actually possess me, yes,” I deflected.
“And what if that exactly was my kink? You have to admit, it’s part of your job description to work as an accessory on my arm, and that technically, I get to use you as I see fit.”
Years ago his words might have stung; now they just left that hollow feeling inside me that spoke of acceptance, if of the rueful kind.
“A delusional whore is not a good whore. And I excel at what I do.”
He mulled that statement over for a moment, guessing at all its implications.
“So how do you see yourself in that situation?”
I shrugged.
“I come with a high price tag—the fact that you can afford me is one thing. The fact that you’re worth garnering my attention is quite another.”
He pursed his lips, still amused, but the look in his eyes spoke of darker considerations.
“What you really say is that I should feel honored, or at least vindicated by the fact that you allow me to engage your services?”
“Pretty much,” I replied, putting a certain levity in
to the words. He didn’t resist when I stepped up to him, my body again flush with his, and pressed a kiss onto his chin. “I don’t just fuck everyone who can afford me. To become my client, you have to be special. And to be a regular I clear my schedule for, you have to be extraordinary.”
I was sure that he could see right through my attempt to placate him, but that didn’t seem to diminish the power of my words. His arm came around me, holding me close, and he replied with a long, deep kiss that made my head spin just a little.
“So nice we can agree on that,” he murmured, then let go, humor back in his eyes. He held his arm out to me and nodded toward the ballroom. “Shall we rejoin the dwindling masses so they can bask in the glory of our company just a little longer?”
“Why, of course!” I trilled, coquettishly blinking my eyes at him. “For you? Everything.”
Chapter 8
Darren stayed until the end of the benefit, and by the time we had returned safely to his house, we were both too tired for anything but undressing and crawling into bed. He made up for that in the morning at what felt to me like an ungodly hour, but thankfully he seemed quite pleased to do most of the work. Then he got up for a run, leaving me to luxuriate a little longer between the sheets and soak in the bathtub to leech the weariness from my body.
Breakfast—unlike our usual lazy morning routine when I stayed overnight—turned out as an almost bizarre affair where the butler did his best to heap disdain on me while serving coffee, Darren didn’t speak a single word because he was on the phone constantly, and I observed all that with the levity that comes from years of detachment. As funny as it was for a moment, it made me kind of uncomfortable to just sit there and scroll through my phone, munching a croissant, being completely ignored by the man who was still paying for my presence.
Then we were off to the country club, where I hoped things would brighten a little, and not just from the dazzling sunshine greeting us outside.
Country clubs were generally not my preferred hunting ground, and within the first ten minutes there my conviction was strengthened further. Soirees, dinners, even conferences were usually not a problem, even if wives mingled with women of less permanent states of affection. But the country club had, for a long time, been the retreat for all those women who were at least aware, if not appreciative, of the fact that their husbands liked to get a little something extra on the side. It was their turf, their territory. Oh, a single woman of whatever profession might be welcome there as a member, if she could gain entrance, but as a guest?
And just like I could easily pick them out at a glance, they saw right through my bright sundress and huge shades, and formed up the ranks accordingly. Where yesterday the same women had smiled—if insincerely—at me, now there were sneers, stares, and comments whispered to each other without bothering to tone down their voices or the malice held therein. Darren had, either by ignorance or for whatever nefarious reason, broken the unspoken rule of social conduct and brought a whore where not even mistresses were tolerated to tread.
And it wasn’t just the women who reacted like that to me.
As the third waiter zipped by me without giving me an opportunity to replace my empty champagne flute with a new one, I realized that I was doubly glad that Darren had procured the first. Maybe it would have been different if he’d stayed by my side, but after a few murmured comments to ensure that I knew not to disturb him, he headed off for a more private conversation with a group of gentlemen, leaving me smack in the middle of the pitchfork-wielding masses.
Sighing inwardly, I did my best to put on my most pleasant, if neutral, smile and aimed for the open bar in the back. A fifty under the hand ensured that the bartender decided it wasn’t wise to put on similar airs as the other staff, and he kept me supplied with a never-ending string of very watered-down Mimosas. After all, getting drunk and actively contributing to the hatred people directed at me just wouldn’t do.
I was surprised when after what felt like hours, but was closer to thirty minutes, a vision in beige and burgundy settled onto the bar stool right next to mine and flagged the bartender for a Scotch on the rocks.
Swishing the golden liquid in her glass, Alison Moss studied the crowd before she leaned over to me.
“Stuck-up prudes, the lot of them, if you ask me. I cannot tell you how refreshing it is to have someone along who doesn’t delight in chatting at length about the woes of how her horticultural stylist has totally missed this summer’s trend, again.”
Smirking into my own glass, I took a last sip before I abandoned the drink on the bar, half turning to face my unlikely companion.
“I keep my subscription of ‘Home and Garden’ current. If you wanted me to, I could entertain you with my wealth of knowledge of exactly that.”
Her smile grew a little brighter.
“I’m sure you could. Just please, don’t.”
Her laugh was light but held a certain edge that let me know that she was done with small talk now.
“I understand that with your passion for your work, your interest in gardening might not be that profound, but why sully your doubtlessly perfect reputation by engaging the social pariah?” I inquired.
Elegant, black brows drew up, and she considered me shrewdly for a second.
“I’ve grown up in country clubs like this one. My mother spent an awful lot of time trying to overcome the stigma of being new money rather than founding fathers aristocracy, and she badgered me to fit in whatever the cost. It amuses me to no end that now I am a lifelong member because they want me here, not because I have to socialize, but that doesn’t mean I’ve forgiven them all the looks and remarks where they pretended to hide them from my ears but knew all too well I would be aware of them. Call me vindictive if you like, but now that I have more power than they do, I love rubbing it into their botox-deadened faces that I am at liberty to associate with whoever I like, and I strongly prefer your company over theirs.”
I wondered for a moment if her husband had told her about watching Darren and me yesterday behind the stage, but while Alison clearly basked in exactly the attention she had just described, there was nothing sexually charged about her demeanor. Which was likely for the best, because the last thing I needed was getting propositioned by my current client’s mentor.
“Whatever your motives, I appreciate a delightful conversation just as much as the next shunned woman.”
“Oh, don’t let their ignorance get to you, dear,” she offered, briefly patting my hand. “They’re just jealous. Because you’re young, beautiful, could easily have any man in the room, and likely have had several of them already. They can’t burn you at the stake outright, so they have to play their petty games, not realizing how much beneath you that puts them.”
“I’m not bothered,” I quickly replied, not even having to work on the sincerity ringing in my tone. “I just don’t want my presence to negatively reflect on Darren.”
Alison made a dismissive gesture with the hand that wasn’t wrapped around the tumbler.
“Never mind him. You’re not the first girl of questionable morals that he’s brought here, and unless you are the exception, you won’t be the last. Of course, the board members disapprove, but with me and my husband holding half of the firm’s power and capital, they can’t really do anything about it unless I disapprove, and as I obviously don’t…”
She let that hang in the air.
“It must be nice to be powerful enough not to care,” I offered, not knowing what else to say. I didn’t really like her dismissive attitude, but then it clearly played out in my favor.
“Oh, it is,” she drawled, then laughed, also very unladylike, turning a few heads. “Connections run the world.”
That they did, I silently agreed with her, but didn’t get a chance to say anything else, because just then Alison saw someone across the room who seemed a little more interesting than associating with me. She excused herself without looking back. And just like that, I was, again, discarded like
a wet washrag.
Darren returned from his impromptu private meeting eventually and swept me up with one arm across my lower back, thus forcing me to return to the fray. I was a little alarmed when he steered me toward the outside, considering that my heels would not do too well on the thick grass of the golf course, but thankfully it was only so he could continue to converse with a few people hanging around the pool.
“It’s a pity I didn’t bring my bikini, then it would have been so much easier for some of these geezers to stare at my tits,” I whispered to him after the fourth such happenstance during a conversation no one had let me join in otherwise.
Darren pulled away from me just enough to be able to scrutinize my face, a light frown drawing his brows together.
“It’s bad enough that you seem to have lost interest in anything but thrusting your cleavage into every available guy’s face, but I don’t think there’s reason to flaunt it further.”
That rebuke left me dumbstruck and at a loss for words, but before I could apologize—even if it wasn’t my fault that everyone ignored me—he pushed me on toward the next huddle of people, once again smiling brightly. I didn’t miss how the fingers of his hand on my lower back kept pressing into my skin, not exactly uncomfortably, but not a casual touch, either.
Thankfully, the young wife of one of the clients Darren was talking to now took pity on me—or she hadn’t gotten the memo yet that whores were to be shunned—and our easy conversation made Darren relax gradually. But whether it was lingering resentment on her part, or just my imagination, I still couldn’t shake the feeling that I was utterly out of place here, and when I got the chance a little later, I fled to the restrooms, intent on hiding there for as long as was socially acceptable—and then some.