Club Saturday: Contemporary Menage Romance (Sarasota Sin Series Book 2)

by Talyn Scott

  And although both men stayed clothed, while Vania kept her panties on, she hadn’t ever been this aroused. So what did that say about her life?

  That thought was lost when her pussy clenched on the first signs of orgasm. “Uh,” she groaned. Drake kissed up her jaw then bit down on her ear. At the same time, Evan pinched her exposed nipple. “I’m going to —"

  Someone knocked on the outer door.

  Evan released her nipple, and the blood rushing back to the tip sent Vania into a tailspin.

  Another loud rap sounded at the door.

  “No.” Drake licked down her chest until his tongue hit the tip of her breast with a curled flick, where he soothed away the slight pain caused by Evan’s pinch.

  “Please!” Her back arched instinctively, pushing her nipple in Drake’s mouth. Her heels dug in Evan’s perfect ass, spurring on his swiping. “Don’t stop!”

  Another rap sounded beyond impatient.

  Drake raked his teeth across her nipple, eliciting a shudder from her sexually deprived body, causing her sex to clench down hard.

  “Ah!”

  “There you go,” Evan said, “enjoy it.”

  She couldn’t really see anything but flashing lights. Nothing could have prepared Vania for the scorching intensity of this orgasm.

  “Stop tensing up, Love.”

  While gulping air amid whimpers, Vania coaxed her body to relax.

  In the near distance, a corridor door opened and closed before a rolling cart echoed in the interior hallway.

  “That’s room service with your breakfast.” Drake kissed her and stood. “I told them to set up on the balcony.”

  Evan kissed her nose and left the bed. He tucked in his shirt and reached for his jacket. “We’re expected at a board meeting.”

  Oscar’s ears perked up at the sound of rattling dishes next door, but he stayed on a leather-studded club chair, licking his fur as he lounged regally.

  “I,” she fumbled with what to say.

  Drake ran a hand through his inky hair, neatly tucked in his shirt, and adjusted what he could behind his zipper. Considering the size of him, and there was a lot to consider there, it wasn’t an easy task. “Bearing in mind you’re a touch hungover, eat first before taking a shower.”

  “Right.” Though standing in a hot pink corset slip and see-through panties, she schooled her features with professionalism. “I’ll work late to make up for the time lost this morning.”

  “Vania, you’re always working late.” Evan tightened his watchband. “There’s no time to make up here. I only ask that you eat, drink plenty of water, and stay in touch with Avery. Okay?”

  “I will.” Vania crushed Oscar to her chest and searched for her suitcase. “I need my clothes and toothbrush.”

  “Your toiletries are in the bathroom.” Drake smiled. “I ordered what you threw in your suitcase to be pressed. Staff already hung your clothes in the closet.” He pointed to louvered bamboo doors.

  Evan added, “If you’re missing anything, call the front desk and charge it to the room.” He gave her a look. “No one knows you’re in this room Vania, so don’t use your name but mine.”

  She couldn't charge anything to this room, wouldn’t take advantage. “Thanks.”

  Drake finished knotting his tie. “I’ve held this villa open for an indefinite time. Use it as long as you need it. I only ask that nothing changes among us three during working hours.”

  During working hours? If that wasn’t a heady qualifier, she didn’t know what was. “I can stay as professional as you.”

  Drake nodded, but he didn’t seem convinced. “We have plenty to discuss, Vania.”

  “The whole dangerous ground thing?” She laughed hollowly. “I guess I’ve been standing on it for a while now.” She shrugged. “I just didn’t know it.”

  Chapter 11

  “Where were you two last night?” Julian marched through Drake’s office without knocking.

  Drake snorted. “Even Aunt Gilda stopped asking us that once we turned eighteen.”

  Evan held his phone to his ear, working on a problem with Club Saturday’s GM. His mouth straightened into a tight line, which was Evan’s equivalent of professional fury, but he kept his tone cool.

  Since he lacked time to go home, Drake decided to shower and change here. He was at odds with his decision. Before Vania, he consistently scrubbed away scents of perfume, makeup, and sex of women within the hour he fucked them. Now, he dreaded washing off Vania’s delicate scent.

  “I’m not trying to bitch.”

  “Ah, Julian, why do I sense a ‘but’ coming?” Avoiding this conversation was necessary. The situation with Vania was fresh, and, no matter her current resolve, she could still run back to her fiancé’s awaiting arms.

  Julian followed him inside his office bathroom, watching as Drake turned on the shower. “But you’ve been acting strange since Trey married Libby.”

  “Strange? Because I’m relieved that I don’t have to deal with Trey’s baggage any longer? Ecstatic that Trey doesn’t have to deal with his baggage any longer.” It had been a long haul, helping Trey release the ghosts of his past. Now that he married Libby, and she was expecting Trey’s children, the stars appeared to be lining up for the man once resigned to a painful and lost existence. “He damn well deserves happiness, and now I can breathe.”

  “You can breathe? Funny, you look tense.” Julian leaned against the wall as Drake shucked his suit. “I mean, when was the last time you fucked? Must be exhausting carrying around wood all the time.”

  “What?” Drake slammed his hands on the vanity. “You need me to send you my sexual itinerary?”

  “No need, I can see you’re off your game.”

  “Off my game? I’m finished with games.” Drake glanced down at his raging erection and jumped in the shower. Even if he had time to jack off, he doubted the empty orgasm would take off his edge. “I need something… else.”

  Drake had fucked plenty over the span of his adult life. But recently? Only once, and the experience had left him cold, colder than any other lay.

  The woman had been a beautiful nightmare, a true Black Widow, readying to dig her fangs in his neck the moment he’d come up for air. Since he wanted no repeats, she didn’t take it too well.

  “It’s happening to you,” Julian interrupted his thoughts, “just like it happened to Avery, Dylan, and Trey.”

  “What’s happening to me?” He moved the soap down his stomach, reaching to wash his cock. As Drake expected, thoughts of the money-grubbing Black Widow softened him right up.

  “You want a wife.”

  “Don’t be stupid. I want a monogamous relationship, the same woman every time.”

  “That sounds like a wife, Drake.”

  He grabbed the shampoo. “Because I’m tired of prowling or picking among the groupies, and then wondering afterwards who might file a bogus paternity suit?”

  “Or go to the tabloids,” Julian griped. “One woman described in great detail how I spanked and bit her ass, even Aunt Gilda’s friends read the garbage.”

  “Poor Gilda, I remember that one.”

  “Then she had the nerve to show back up at Level 69, asking for my discipline.”

  “This is exactly what I’m talking about, Julian. I’m worn from living this way. I want more.”

  “I do, too,” Julian admitted, “but I’m not ready for a wife.”

  “Who says you have to marry? Why not stay comfortably safe as always, but with one woman?” Spending time with a mature woman who didn’t see dollar signs when she wrapped her lips around his dick was all Drake wanted. Right now, anyway. In the future? He could see himself buying a house in Gilda’s neighborhood like Trey did, and renovating it to suit his… wife’s tastes. Shit. Maybe he was looking for a wife after all.

  Evan’s voice sounded from within the bathroom. “Found out that hot raven-hair was sniffing around Club Saturday again, looking for you pretty late, Drake.”

 
He stiffened. The Black Widow? “What do you know about her?”

  “Only that you fucked her.”

  “Tell me you didn’t ever fuck her.”

  “I didn’t.” Evan sighed. “I didn’t fuck anyone last night or the night before that, or the lonely night before that.” He paused before Drake heard something hit the counter, sounding suspiciously like a frustrated fist.

  “Clearly, both of you are changing your personal lives and neither wants that particular woman,” Julian said slowly. “What’s going on?”

  Drake finished rinsing his hair, switched off the water, and stepped from the shower. “As far as the Black Widow is concerned, she’s an Easton chaser, that’s what’s going on.”

  “Aren’t most women?”

  Drake couldn’t blame Julian for his cynicism. “I thought so until I watched Dylan, Trey, and Avery fall in love with amazing women.” He toweled off and walked to a narrow closet that held a few changes of clothing. “So amazing women are out there.”

  Thankfully, Evan stayed quiet, so Julian wouldn’t yet find out about their mutual interest in Vania.

  Just the thought of her prim bun and glasses, or those naughty panties beneath her demure skirts, made his cock stiffen again. Thoughts of her would drive him bug-fuck all day. Fortunately, Vania would spend the day at The Sarasota Firehouse or else Drake and Evan would get nothing accomplished.

  He hoped that he could set a proper example for her. Tossing her fine ass on his desk in the middle of the workday and driving in her heat like a man possessed wouldn’t be professional. And unprofessionally possessed was exactly how he felt when it came to Vania Lange.

  As Drake slipped on his jacket and straightened his tie, he noticed that Evan went unnaturally still. “What’s wrong?”

  Julian lifted Drake’s tossed shirt from the vanity, eyeing the collar with marked suspicion before lifting it to his nose.

  “Okay,” Drake said with lifted hands, “that’s about the weirdest thing I’ve ever seen you do, and that’s saying a whole lot.”

  “Smells like her,” Julian said, his green eyes glittering like emeralds.

  Evan winced. “Like her?”

  Without another word, Julian lifted yesterday’s trousers.

  “Why are you looking at my pants?” Drake growled.

  Julian’s teeth clenched when he saw the zipper. Even from Drake’s vantage point, he could see the evidence of Vania’s arousal dried on the fabric. “What the fuck is your problem?” Julian pushed Drake hard, sending him reeling from the bathroom. “Avery wants none of us to take Vania.”

  Drake stood his ground. “How do you know what she smells like?”

  “How many elevator rides have we shared?”

  “This is none of your business.” Evan muscled between them. “I’ve wanted Vania for months, and Avery’s not going to stop me.”

  “Not going to stop us,” Drake amended.

  Julian turned quiet, which was dangerous. “Did you seriously say that to me?”

  “Do you want us to lie?”

  “I can read women,” Julian said, staying quiet. “Vania Lange is nothing like your other lays.”

  “Don’t you think we know this?” Evan started pacing in front of the windows, his long gait giving him no room to work off the rage, even though Drake’s office was larger than most people’s apartments. “I want to change for her.” He stopped and hitched his hands on his hips. “I can’t say that I deserve, Vania, but I’m not allowing another man to take her. That’s the selfishness in me I can’t fight.”

  “Then it’s the selfishness in both of us, because I’m not letting her go, either.”

  “Vania came on your pants,” Julian pointed out. “And now you’re not letting her go? A man put a ring on her finger. We don’t touch another man’s woman. Where are your ethics?”

  Drake sighed. “Vania caught her fiancé fucking another woman last night.”

  Julian closed his eyes, remembering the bitterness of betrayal firsthand. “I want to kill him on her behalf.”

  “So do we,” Evan said. “But priority-one is getting Vania back on her feet, nursing her pain, and nurturing her self-esteem.”

  “I don’t exactly agree.” Drake sat behind his desk and pulled his laptop from its case. “I don’t want to be Vania’s rebound cock, and she’s too strong to be babied.”

  Julian leaned down, flattening his hands on Drake’s desk. “Admit it. You’re considering her for a wife.”

  Drake could no longer deny it to himself or to Julian. “I couldn't do any better than Vania.”

  “And you’re feeling the same way?” Julian asked Evan speculatively.

  “Any other time I thought of marriage, my heart leaped from my chest.” Evan rubbed his sternum but smiled. “Not this time.”

  “I’m not going to call Avery,” Julian said. He turned and walked to the door. “And I wish each of you luck, especially when Avery gets back.”

  “We’ll meet you at the board meeting. Drake and I have something to discuss.”

  When Julian closed the door behind him, Drake said, “We’re brothers always.” But he wasn’t going to back down from Vania for anyone.

  “Never mattered to me that we weren’t related biologically.” Evan sat down. “Aunt Gilda took us from foster and raised us as family, and I don’t hurt my family. With that said, I refuse to back down now. So where does that leave us, if we’re not talking about sharing for a while but for a lifetime?”

  Drake tapped his fingers on his desk, while thinking Dylan and Avery had made their relationship work to the point of marriage, so why couldn’t he do the same with Evan? “We’ve got a long day ahead of us, but we first need to reach a mutual agreement regarding our Miss Lange.”

  Chapter 12

  By five o’clock in the afternoon, Avery told Vania to wrap up her workday. Even by telephone, her boss was a force to be reckoned with, yet beyond generous. He and his wife were compassionate regarding Vania’s embarrassing situation with Matt and her immediate need of a home. So as of now, she no longer required her villa at The Easton Hotel.

  Though Avery agreed she could lease one of the available apartments here at the firehouse, he suggested that Vania move to Payton and Libby’s old loft, which was nestled above the main art gallery. After all, neither was returning there to live.

  Compared to the firehouse’s other apartments, the loft was the largest, a three bedroom. Vania had no idea what she would do with the extra space, but at least she wouldn’t have to share it with an inattentive, womanizing bastard.

  Vania poured her last cup of coffee, headed outside into the Florida sunshine, and took in the sights and sounds of progress.

  Although she didn’t inspect the leased apartments or the owners’ loft, she combed over the vacant ones, ensuring they were operational while also noting what needed work. At this point, her notes consisted of several pages, which explained why three tenants cancelled.

  Vania waved at the hospital volunteers as she passed. Several were measuring for the white tents that would dot the lawn during the fundraiser. One of the tents would be large enough for a band, an outrageous chandelier, and a substantial dance floor.

  Vania’s nerves would be screaming, if not for Gilda Easton’s reassurances. Gilda spent an hour on the phone with Vania, cutting the workload in half by making several key suggestions. All and all, she thought Avery would be satisfied with the result, which was highly important to Drake.

  Vania breathed easier, felt more comfortable on the property as the hours passed. She couldn’t dream of a better place to find herself again. The views were spectacular and the neighborhood pristine.

  She’d get to work in five minutes or less. So maybe she would sell her old car, and then she could walk to work for a while. Every month, she could put away a little money to buy a newer car with a lower loan balance. Patting her ass, Vania mentally confirmed that plan. A few months of walking would prove beneficial.

  She set her
coffee mug on an iron bistro table adjacent to a trickling, stone fountain and tugged the loft’s key from her pocket. Almost giddy, she took the stairs two at a time.

  The teeth-gritting sound of wheels skidding on asphalt froze Vania mid-step. She turned and looked across the parking lot. Her heart stuttered in her chest as a Mercedes careened into a parking space. “No. No. No!”

  Vania tilted back her head, looking to the sky for divine intervention. “I thought this day was too perfect.”

  Throughout the day, she considered what Alan Murphy suggested last night at the hospital. And even though she wanted to whack Matt’s balls with a weed-eater, Vania craved her dignity too much to fall prey to childishness. For the time being, Matt wouldn’t know she’d personally discovered his infidelity. So she took a deep breath and managed to put a lid on her simmering rage, hoping Matt wouldn’t see the humiliating agony he’d caused.

  She shoved the loft’s keys in her pocket and descended the stairs.

  Matt slammed the car door.

  Vania squared her shoulders as he stomped to her. “Hello, Matt.”

  “Hello, Matt?” He lifted his phone from the pocket of his surgical scrubs. “You texted me a brush off! Who does that? Are we in middle school or something?”

  A few volunteers turned concerned faces Vania’s way. She waved again, hissing behind a smile, “Matthew Lambert, keep your voice down.”

  He glared at her.

  “How did you find me?” Matt wouldn’t have remembered she currently managed the firehouse. After all, he paid no attention to what didn’t involve him.

  “I spoke to some woman named Cora.” Matt stepped forward, until they were inches apart. “Why do you need to rethink our relationship?” He quoted what Drake texted him. “And if the wedding planning was getting to you, why didn’t you consider my Vegas suggestion?”

  When the sun hit his hair, her stomach knotted. He wasn’t Drake Easton beautiful, but Matt was prettier than most. Too bad she’d taken so long to see beneath his physicality, where an ugly, lying sack of crap existed in place of his soul.