She hissed in reaction.
“I thought about dragging you down in the middle of the living room carpet and doing this in front of all of them.” He bent and sucked the turgid point of her nipple into his mouth. She squirmed against him.
He pulled back, skimming his hands along her arms. “You’d have liked it, too.” It would have shown Garrett exactly who she belonged to in no uncertain terms. He shook her lightly. “Tell me you would have liked it.”
Her eyes searched his face. “There’d be consequences.”
“Fuck the consequences.” He leaned in, letting his breath bathe her skin. “You would have loved it.”
Her nostrils flared, and he knew the answer. He’d tasted it in her hot, hard nipples. But she didn’t capitulate; instead, she pushed at his shoulders. “We can’t do this now.”
“I’ll have this now.” He took her mouth and ate off her lipstick, then invaded with his tongue. She didn’t fight, she simply allowed, and he couldn’t stand her nonparticipation. He wanted her in the act completely.
“And I’ll take this.” He pulled up her skirt, hearing the pop of several stitches. And then his hand was between her legs, his fingers tracing the folds of her bare pussy. No panties. Ah God. She was hot, her thighs already wet with her juices.
“It’s made me fucking crazy all night wondering what you were wearing under this skirt.” He breathed against her lips. “I should have bent you over the sofa and fucked you from behind. My cock sliding deep inside you for everyone to see.” He held her chin in his hand. “And you’d scream for every inch.”
“Brett.” Her pupils had dilated to the point of obscuring the blue of her eyes. This time, she didn’t deny him completely. “We can’t stay up here too long.”
He buried his lips against her throat and sucked her skin. Hard. Enough to mark her. She was his, no one else’s. “We’ll stay as long as it takes for me to have what I want.” He sucked off the last traces of her lipstick, marking her that way, too. “And it’s going to take a very long sweet fucking time.”
She put two hands to his face and forced him to look at her. “This is crazy, Brett.”
“You don’t know the half of it.” Exactly what he’d said to that bastard Garrett. He dragged in a breath and slammed her up against the door. “Fuck me, Virginia. I’m gonna go nuts if you don’t. And you really don’t want to see what I’m capable of then.”
Chapter Seven
Brett had such a look on his face. Need. Desperation. All for want of her. This was her fantasy, to be desired so badly a man would risk anything for her. More than physical, it was an emotion that touched her core desires. Brett made her burn, set her skin on fire, lit an inferno in her belly.
He’d fantasized about taking her in front of their guests. It rang with primal need.
It was what she’d dreamed of as she’d donned thigh-high stockings, forsaking panties. An illusion she’d wanted to create, walking amid his guests as the perfect hostess yet a burning woman beneath the surface. When she’d dressed, it had been a game. When Wilson Garrett congratulated her on perturbing her imperturbable husband, it had become something much more. With one glance at Brett, she’d felt her body heat and her nipples peak to aching, needy points. Something dark, seething, and delicious had been in his gaze.
One little push, and he very well might have fucked her in front of their guests. That was how badly he wanted her. He was on the edge of control.
He shook her lightly, bending slightly so he could see her at eye level. “Now,” he whispered, just a breath of air. “Don’t make me wait. Or I’ll just take what I need.”
What woman could resist this level of desire? Just this once, she told herself. With their party going on downstairs, it was crazy, extreme, even stupid. Just this time, never again, she promised. They were supposed to keep this kind of thing limited to The Sex Club. But she had to have it now, because he might never be like this again, not her controlled, imperturbable husband.
“Yes. Now.”
That was all she said, and he became an animal. At the club, he’d taken her with the need of a man teased for a few hours. Tonight, he was a wild beast.
He grabbed her chin and took her mouth, devouring her with more than just his lips and tongue, devouring her with his unleashed passion. She clutched his arms and hung on for the incredible ride, barely able to keep up as he yanked her skirt above her hips. He was all over her, nipping her lip, biting her throat, squeezing her buttocks. Then he slipped down the crease of her ass to push one finger inside her wet core, the underside of his knuckle pressing the spot between her pussy and anus. He groaned as if it weren’t enough for him and came at her from the front with his other hand, sliding another finger inside and working her clitoris with his palm. The sensations burned her.
“Undo my pants.”
She gasped as he hit an acutely receptive spot. “I can’t when you’re doing that.”
“You can do whatever I want you to.” He backed off her clit to caress between her buttocks, using her own moisture to slide a fraction inside and create a blaze with a slow, gentle massage. She didn’t do rear entry, but somehow he made it incredibly sensual. “And do it now, Virginia.”
She loved the command in his voice. Fumbling with his buckle and zipper, she pulled his cock out. He was already dripping for her, his crown purple with need. She bore down on his finger and stroked his cock at the same time, squeezing from his base and back up again. Brett groaned, and another droplet of come glazed his tip.
“You’re killing me,” he uttered in a deep growl. “Stop playing and spread your legs for me.”
His eyes flashed, and he grinned, a teeth-baring, feral, I-will-consume-you grin. Every thought went out of her head as he lifted her, spread her legs to rub her pussy along his cock, and set off sparks in her clitoris. She locked her feet behind his butt. His head falling back in ecstasy, a low rumble pushed its way past his clenched teeth. She sucked in a breath at the sheer pleasure, the immense power in his need.
He bent his knees and rocked against her, sliding in her moisture. His hot, dark gaze on her turned her insides to butter.
“You make me fucking crazy.” He slammed into her and closed his eyes, a deep groan rising from his belly.
He’d done a complete one-eighty from the controlled seducer of their wedding night. Her mind reeled. If this was a fantasy he wanted to give her, she’d grab onto it with both hands and never let go.
“I’m going to make you come. Make you scream.”
He thrust into her with a hard, high stroke, pumped fast and deep, and she lost her senses. The first orgasm rolled over her without a single preliminary warning. Her pussy contracted around him, drenched him with her desire, and he took her cries into his mouth.
He tucked his lips to her neck and demanded, “Again. Do it again.”
“Please, please, please.” He didn’t have to tell her to beg. The plea simply fell from her lips.
He started a relentless rhythm, his cock stroking deep, his body rasping against her clitoris. She pushed back against the door, bracing herself for each thrust. Clutching her bottom, he used his fingers to spread her, taking his penetration deeper, higher. She tore at her jacket, pulling the lapels apart to pinch her nipples. A streak of lightning shot down to their joining, and she blasted off yet again just as she felt him throb and tighten inside her, filling her with his need, his desire, his very essence.
* * * * *
They were on the carpet, a tangle of limbs, the skin of her thigh soft under the stroke of his fingers. Leaning with a shoulder against the door, Brett was still encased in her body, steeped in her scent, and his cock gave a final throb.
He’d lost his mind inside her. What the hell had he been thinking? Uncontrollable jealousy and need. Feeling, not thinking at all. But Jesus, it was so fucking good, he’d do it again in a heartbeat.
“Do you think anyone heard?” she whispered, her breath warm on his throat, her body snug where she
’d collapsed atop him.
“I don’t care.” He’d pounded her against the door, the wood beating in the frame, and shouted her name in that seemingly unending moment of pure frenzy. He’d felt her keen of pleasure pulsing in his gonads.
She pulled back and put a hand to her hair. “I must look a fright.”
The neat knot had fallen, her blond locks frothing about her face and shoulders. Mascara smudges darkened the skin beneath her eyes. Her lips were a kissed-to-oblivion cherry despite the lack of lipstick, and a hickey marred the flesh of her throat. The tantalizing perfume of her sex hazed his mind. She looked so gorgeously loved and pleasured, her blue eyes a dark shade of midnight desire.
“You look perfect,” he murmured. Never more so.
Would everyone know what they’d been doing? Hell, yes. Without a doubt, even if by some miracle the sounds of their lovemaking hadn’t made it down the stairs. She looked utterly pleasured. He would have used the word debauched, but there was nothing debauched about Virginia. She was a lady.
She eased back farther still, his cock falling from her body, and he felt the loss in his chest.
“We need to change,” she said but made no move to do so.
Her suit was wrinkled beyond redemption, and a button had torn loose. Her nipples were still ripe buds begging for his lips. He reached out, dragging his pinkies across the peaks as he pulled the lapels of her suit closed.
She looked down. His pants bore the traces of her orgasms, and dabs of her lipstick were stark against the white of his dress shirt. For the life of him, he couldn’t remember how it had gotten there.
She put a hand on his chest and leaned in. Her lips were sweet, her tongue tracing his mouth, then delving inside.
“Thank you,” she whispered against his lips.
He’d just dragged her up the stairs in full view of all his guests, then fucked the hell out of her in a frenzy. And she was thanking him? Warmth spread through his chest. He should be thanking her. It had been beyond description.
She took his chin between her thumb and fingers. “But maybe the club is a better place for that kind of thing than the middle of a dinner party. There’s so much more”—she tipped her head to one side, then the other—“freedom at The Sex Club. You do want me to indulge myself without inhibition, don’t you?”
What was she saying? That she didn’t want sex at home, only at the club? Or that she wanted the freedom to indulge herself with any man she chose, and she’d get that at the club? That subtle exchange with Wilson Garrett leaped to his mind. He didn’t give a damn what she meant. Like hell he’d let Garrett or anyone else touch her. Ever.
But in the only remaining sane brain cell he had, he knew his actions had compromised her reputation and his business principles. His jealousy had taken a pleasant exchange involving his best customer, Wilson Garrett, and turned it into something improper, imbuing the most polite of smiles with sexual innuendo.
He needed to work on retaining at least an ounce of control for the remainder of the evening. After all, there was business. And then there was pleasure.
* * * * *
No one had noticed a thing. Virginia explained her change of attire, choosing a high-necked blouse that covered his mark, by saying she’d spilled red wine on her jacket. And no one batted an eyelash. Brett had changed also, into a suit of the same hue as the one he’d been wearing and another white shirt. No one noticed.
Brett had brought the two halves of their double life together, and there hadn’t been a single consequence. Best not to tempt the fates again, though. She didn’t want to expect that kind of intensity at home, in case she didn’t get it.
In a few minutes, she’d call her guests for dinner. Brett was now mingling, seemingly involved in important discussion with...Harris? She’d forgotten the man’s name, but who could blame her? Brett had blown out a few of her fuses, and it would take time to recover. She smiled. Softly. Just a lifting of her lips that only she felt but no one else would see.
It was all so delicious, her body still warm and moist. She was pleased with herself. She was pleased with him. They’d gotten away with it, and the knowledge beat an exhilarating pulse between her legs. Still, they had The Sex Club. It was a more suitable place to indulge themselves.
She couldn’t wait for his next invitation to pleasure.
* * * * *
Two mornings later, Brett stood in front of the mirror. He’d nicked himself shaving, a spot of blood welling on his chin.
Three facts. Number one: a marriage both he and Virginia intended to be safe, comfortable, and controlled now had control of him. And, after due consideration, he’d decided he liked it that way. A little jealousy on his part had driven Virginia to new heights. Hell, she’d let him fuck her in their bedroom with their guests downstairs. What more could he ask for?
Which brought him to fact two. He could ask for a lot. He wanted that uninhibited woman in his bed every night. And he didn’t want her thinking she could wander off at The Sex Club and take anyone she wanted any time she wanted.
I wanted someone to do that to me.
Fact number three. Virginia was going to learn that someone was him. She needed a lesson. And he was so going to enjoy giving it to her. He’d decided it would be a dual message. He’d show her how utterly desirable she was, wanted by a horde of men, and by him most of all. Then he’d show her that she belonged to him. Him alone. And she’d never need another.
Christ. He knew in ways he sounded like his jealous, possessive ex-wife. Yet he was man enough to admit that calm serenity, and hot, hot sex made for a potent mixture he now craved. As long as he got Virginia to accept that she craved the erotic blend, too, jealousy on his part could do no harm. It was when goals were diametrically opposed that a problem arose.
Or was he just rationalizing the new rules he wanted to lay down for their marriage? He risked ruining a damn good thing if she said no.
He stared at his reflection in the mirror, then let a smile slowly rise. “She’s not going to say no.” He wouldn’t let her.
“Did you say something, honey?” Virginia called from the bedroom.
“Just talking to myself, darling.”
Darling, honey. They’d taken to pet names. She’d seemed none the worse for his debauchery the night of the party. She had, however, fallen asleep on the couch last night while they were watching TV. He’d tasked her with a grueling social schedule, not to mention that she still refused to give up her day job. So he’d let her sleep, though his cock and balls screamed for her attention.
He smiled once more into the mirror. Tonight, there would be no sleep for either of them.
She poked her head into the bathroom. “You’re not even done shaving.”
“I’m running late. Go on without me.” He had plans to set in motion before he left for the office.
“You’re bleeding.”
“It’s a scratch.” He dabbed at the nick.
She grabbed the tissue from his hand before he even realized she entered the bathroom. “You silly man.”
She finished the dabbing, then kissed him on the chin. Her perfume, neither floral nor fruity but something more exotic and musky, filled his head.
“See you tonight,” she whispered, then left him with a tap-tap of her heels on the tile floor and the intoxication of her scent. The exchange, like sweet love play, flipped his heart over. He craved this new tenderness between them as much as he craved the heated, overpowering sexual encounters.
With Virginia, he wanted it all.
He followed to the head of the stairs, making sure she was gone, then headed back into the bedroom. Inside her closet, he rummaged. He found what he wanted, what made him hot, his cock hardening in his briefs, and laid the dress out on the bed. He located black shoes on the floor of her closet and set those out, too. Finally he scribbled a note and topped it with an invitation he’d had since Friday.
Then he went to his office to make some calls and set his plan in motion.
>
Tonight at The Sex Club, he would give her what she wanted. Men that wanted her badly. Lots of men. But only one man would get the pleasure of having her. Her husband. And no one else.
* * * * *
Brett hadn’t been in the condo when Virginia arrived home from work. Instead, he’d left her an envelope, a note telling her to meet him at nine attired in the dress she’d worn on their first date. It was a simple black evening frock. She was surprised and touched he’d remembered. And hot beyond belief imagining what he had planned for her this time.
She handed her invitation to the same efficient blond hostess who’d greeted them the night of her bachelorette party. “Ah. We’ve been expecting you. Your gentleman requests that you allow the contessa to attend you in your preparations.”
This was different. And intriguing. The contessa, a woman of about her own age draped in yards of white, led Virginia to an antechamber off the main hall. The Sex Club had more hidden rooms than a Halloween funhouse. This one was outfitted like a lady’s boudoir, with vanity, striped chairs, and a small dais in the middle. With a flourish of her hand, the contessa bade Virginia to stand on it.
Moving behind her, the lady tugged on the zipper of her dress. “First, we shall remove your clothing,” she said with an old-world accent.
Warm air rushed down her back, then the woman’s fingertips slid the fabric down her arms and over her hips. Virginia was naked beneath. Brett hadn’t left her any underwear at all. Next, she was divested of her shoes. It was the oddest feeling being exposed by another woman. Sensual and erotic, yet devoid of desire.
With a whisper of slippers across the carpet, the woman approached the vanity, opening a flat velvet case to reveal the sparkle of diamonds. “He requests you wear his special gifts.”
Virginia knew she’d been selfish in not allowing Brett to buy her presents. Gift-giving was as much for the giver as for the recipient. She wouldn’t disappoint him again.
Invitation to Pleasure: Open Invitation, Book 2 Page 8