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

by Talyn Scott

  “That’s it.”

  “Perfect.” A fingertip swiped the divide of her sex. A tongue flicked over her clit — there and gone. “You are pretty down here, Vania.”

  She swallowed audibly.

  Four warm hands glided over her body, two moving between the pillow and her buttocks, soothing and molding her ass — gripping slightly, releasing, repeating. Then hands moved from her lower back to the top of her thighs. They were massaging her, she realized, loosening muscles to prepare for anal sex.

  When Vania opened her mouth to say they should be working on the inside and not the outside, a tongue traveled the length of her cleft, delving down until it stopped at her anus.

  “Oh!”

  While hands still massaged her ass, the whole area started humming with anticipation. Her pussy pulsated from the sudden mouth on her clit that almost sucked her too hard.

  “Hmm.”

  The knot of muscles one tongue was pressing through at her anus started releasing. Hands kneaded and flexed with more demand. One of them moaned with Vania, the sucking on her clit becoming savage.

  But no one had dipped a finger in her sex for a while, so she reached inside her legs and pushed at someone’s head. “Tongue in me, fingers, too.”

  “You’re not in the driver’s seat, Baby.” Evan said, kissing the palm of her hand to ease the sting from his words. He placed it over Vania’s head and lifted her other hand to join the first. “Keep them there. Patience is its own reward. I can prove it in a few minutes.”

  “I can’t wait a few minutes. I need to come.”

  She writhed when Drake dolloped lubricant on her puckered opening. He gently worked the tip of his finger into her rosette. Drake circled lightly, easing her into the foreign sensation that was erotic and forbidden, but the building ache in her sex was fast becoming frustrating.

  “Please.”

  “Patience.”

  Fingers retreated, and then plunged back in, pressing and circling. A fluttering sensation answered deep within her sex, awakening unfamiliar nerve endings.

  Evan’s mouth moved back to her clit, taking it with his teeth and biting gently. The subsequent burn made her gasp. Vania tried to push away, but both men held her.

  She couldn’t fight those exhilarating pins and needles that climbed up her sex. “Ah!”

  When Evan released her clitoris, Drake’s fingers were buried entirely in her ass. She was full, overly full.

  “What did you do?” She knew Evan had distracted her. “It’s odd.” The pleasure was growing. The pins and needles drifted away, a tingling in her spine taking hold.

  “I have three fingers in your virgin ass, Vania,” Drake said, moving to the middle of her legs and working lube on his beautiful cock with his free hand. He twisted his closed fist over the head, squeezing. His eyes were on her ass, where his fingers were lodged.

  Evan kissed his way up her torso, mouth playing lightly with her breasts. But his hand stayed at her pussy, pinching and releasing her clitoris in matching rhythm to the clenching of her internal walls.

  “Mmm.” She closed her eyes again, trying to breathe through it all. But there was no staying calm, no fighting what was happening. “Um!”

  “It’s coming,” Drake whispered. “She’s clamping down hard.”

  “I’m… I’m!” Vania couldn’t believe it. Her head thrashed back and forth until Evan caught her face with his hands.

  “Vania, stay with it.” His coaxing grounded her, when every muscle in her body wanted to shatter with pleasure-pain. “You’ll release fully with it. Just try.”

  “I’m… trying.” Her body hit a painful peak, her empty pussy rhythmically gripping on nothing since Drake was focusing on her ass.

  Evan fastened his lips over hers, plundering her with his tongue until her muscles started to give way. “Mmm,” she groaned in his mouth as she soared higher and then… relief! “Evan!” Her muscles turned to goo when her sex flooded with her orgasm. “Drake!”

  “You’re there,” Evan whispered. “Let yourself float now.”

  Drake lined up his cock to her anus and plunged in what felt like feet, when she knew it was the barest inch or two. Her tension started returning to her body, the burning sting of his invasion making her teeth clench.

  “No,” Evan said, his hand rubbing her jaw then lowering down her body to find her sex. “Don’t tighten on Drake.”

  Vania gasped. “It hurts.”

  Drake stilled. But he kept her legs high and spread, his fingers pressing into her flesh. Anyone could see that he wanted to dig in, to take and give, but Drake was holding back by a thread.

  “Burns or hurts?” Drake asked hoarsely.

  “Burns,” she hissed. He was too hard, too thick, and too everywhere.

  “Do you want to stop?”

  “I don’t think so, not yet anyway.”

  Evan looked where Drake and Vania were joined. “Lean some, Drake.” Evan spread her lower lips apart before spearing two inside her vagina. “Looks like you’re halfway in. She’s stretching nicely, should be okay.”

  “Halfway?” Vania gasped, but the circling of his fingers and the gentle rocking of Drake’s cock started working favorably for her.

  Slowly, Drake threaded deeper inside Vania as Evan’s fingers found her sweet spot. When his thumb strummed her distended clit, playing around with the sensitive bud, it counteracted most of the burning sensation Drake’s cock caused. The slight relief took away that slice of pain and replaced it with something darkly erotic, usually forbidden, and…pleasurable.

  She began rocking with Drake, lifting her hips as he inched in a little more… more… more. “MmHmm.”

  “Vania’s about to come again,” Evan said. “She’s rippling around my fingers. Fuck, I want her around my dick.”

  Drake murmured, “Hold on, Love. Anal orgasms are deeper.”

  “I can’t take it.”

  “Yes, you can,” Evan coaxed. “Drake, I’ve never seen that expression on your face.”

  “I can’t tell you how incredible her ass feels. There.” Thrust. “Are.” Thrust. “No.” Thrust. “Words.” He stopped with his balls pressed firmly against her ass, savoring.

  “Drake!” she cried out.

  Evan pulled his hand from her pussy to give Drake room, his mouth dipping to trace the circle of her navel as his hands traveled up to twist and tug her nipples. Then he started working his cock, his eyes darting to where Drake tightened his hold on her and moved in closer, deeper, pressing his pubic bone against Vania’s clit before starting down on a slow, maddening glide.

  “I’ll take you in my mouth.” Vania was eager to taste Evan, to make him explode on her tongue.

  “I don’t want to blow yet,” he said, “and if you put those pretty lips around me, I will.”

  “Ah!” Clouds were lifting her, higher and higher. “This one does feel different.”

  “An anal orgasm,” Drake reminded. He picked up speed. “Different but good, yes?”

  “Yes,” she cried, “almost there!”

  Evan licked a bead of sweat trickling down her cleavage. “I love how she flushes when she comes, and the way her eyes flutter.”

  “Incredible, so fucking incredible.” Drake shuddered over her, the tendons in his neck straining. “Come with me, Vania. Do it now.”

  Their bodies glided in the most primitive way, slicked with sweat, lubricant, and her orgasm. Vania locked eyes with Drake and fell a little deeper, a little harder, and it had nothing to do with sex but everything to do with her heart.

  She cried out when white lights blurred her vision. Evan groaned next to her, burying his mouth against her neck, while Drake emptied his scalding seed in her.

  And Vania felt so right that tears burned her eyes.

  “Vania?” Drake’s voice sounded ragged to her ears, but she heard his concern. “Did I hurt you?”

  Evan shot up, cupping her face. “Why are you crying?”

  “Girl thing.” She sho
ok her head. “Emotions running rampant.” Licking her lips as Drake left her body, she asked Evan, “Can you make love to me now?”

  “Make love?”

  “Please.” She nodded as the first ray of sunlight sneaked in the bedroom. Another day in Florida, she supposed, but she’d never experienced a sunrise quite like this. “Take your time, okay?”

  “Yes.” His smile was secret, a certain edge to it that made her pause. But he pressed his fingertips to her lips when she opened her mouth, and then plunged into her pussy on a smooth glide, not stopping until he reached the very top. “I would make love to you, Baby, for as long as you’ll keep me.”

  She wrapped her arms around Evan’s shoulders, drawing him in tight, and wondered if he meant forever.

  Chapter 25

  At nearly noon, Vania sat between Evan and Drake on the way to The Easton Hotel. A five-minute trip had turned into a twenty-minute roundabout due to the driver’s attempts at losing the paps.

  Both men had phones pressed to their ears. From what she could hear, Drake was speaking to one of his private attorneys, while Evan was dealing with a publicist.

  Though each held her hand, infusing Vania with warmth, a sense of helplessness chilled her bones.

  “That’s our statement, Olivia,” Evan said. “Miss Lange is not Dr. Lambert’s wife. Nor was she with him when we started dating. Flip this thing around. Turn her into the shining princess of Sarasota.” He laughed without humor. “I don’t care how you do it, or how much money it takes to make this happen. That’s what I’m paying you for.”

  Vania sipped her coffee, wishing she added cream to stop her stomach from howling. After the three had woken from a mere two hours sleep, a breakfast delivery had arrived from The Easton Hotel.

  They feasted on lobster quiche and citrus sweet breads. The whole scene had been domestic, a slice of what she wanted in the future with them… until the phone calls, emails, and texts started arriving, blowing everything apart in minutes. Now, Drake and Evan were stuck putting her life back together while she hung on a cliff by her fingernails.

  Evan’s shoulders tensed. “As soon as I get upstairs, I’m emailing you the attendee list for tonight’s fundraiser. Weed out the press. Limit to six at most.” He sighed. “The press will slaughter me if I cut them out? They do that anyway. This time, however,” he said before he hung up, “they’ve gone too far by involving Miss Lange in this way.”

  “I’ll send the email to your publicist,” she said to Evan.

  He kissed her forehead. “Under the watchful eye of several bodyguards and plain clothes security, you’re spending a couple of hours at the spa before heading to the boutique.” Since the boutique manager couldn’t get to the loft due to boatloads of paparazzi, Vania was forced to go there.

  “Evan and I will handle this.” Drake slipped his phone in his pocket. “This is our mess, not yours.”

  “It is mine.” She closed her eyes, hating how weak she felt, as if a virus had zapped her energy. “Pictures of Evan kissing me are everywhere, alongside that stupid altercation with Gayle.” When Vania heard her phone go off again, she kicked her purse. “My family’s blowing up my phone.” None of this compared to what the vultures said about Matt and Vania.

  “Everything will die down.”

  “I doubt it. I’m getting messages from people I haven’t heard from in years. I swear they all want money or fifteen minutes of fame.” She opened her eyes. “I’m sorry. I said I could handle this.” Vania squeezed their hands. “Obviously, I’m shit at it.”

  “You would handle this fine,” Drake countered, “if Matt hadn’t been hospitalized last night. The press is making this out to be something it’s not: you partying at a club while your ex fiancé was in a terrible auto accident.”

  She looked at Drake. “Matt was on my to-do list this morning. I wanted to confront him, was more than ready for having it out with him after seeing the elevator footage, even before that man touched me again.”

  “We tried to get information from Matt last night,” Evan confided.

  Vania whipped her head around. “How? You were with me all night.”

  “Right.” Evan’s dark eyebrows lifted above his sunglasses. “But I sent investigators to question Matt. I wanted every detail of that night he sent you to Club Saturday’s elevators.”

  “A sicko is after you.” Drake turned on the bench seat and wrapped his arms around her. “And the whole damn deal is Matt Lambert’s fault.”

  Her stomach twisted, but somehow Vania felt stronger for Drake’s expression. She’d seen it before when he was dismantling companies and selling off the chunks like rusty parts. “Did you find out anything before Matt,” she trailed off, couldn’t finish.

  “No.” Drake’s face turned to stone. “To avoid questioning, the idiot jumped in his car when our investigators approached him, and then pulled into traffic going the wrong way. He’s lucky he got by with a few broken bones.”

  She shook her head. “I’m sorry that he’s hurt.”

  “This. Is. Matt’s. Fault.” Evan tore his hand from hers and fisted it on his knee.

  The car stopped behind The Easton Hotel. A few reporters were hiding among dumpsters, though several were waiting in plain sight at the backdoors. Thankfully, they weren’t allowed inside the hotel. If they crossed that line, The Easton Company would have them trespassed, which would make it impossible for them to investigate future stories — most likely would get them fired, as well.

  “I know it’s Matt’s fault. Evan, come on, talk to me.”

  “Might I remind you that a man put his hands and mouth all over you?” Evan snapped, “A stranger, Vania, a fucking stranger who touched you. When our people approached Matt for help, telling him —"

  “Matt knew I’d been attacked last night, and he took off anyway?”

  “Yes,” Evan said curtly, but she knew his anger wasn’t aimed at her. “And I have the distinct impression he knows who was in that elevator with you. Problem is — conveniently, none of our people are allowed in his hospital room.”

  “By what our investigators told us, though, Matt looked nothing short of guilty,” Drake added.

  Vania grabbed her purse from the floor. “I have to go see Matt, make him tell me the truth.”

  “You’re right,” Evan bit out. “I’ve scheduled your visit after the fundraiser gets underway.”

  “I must stay there all night,” she argued. “Remember? It’s Avery’s thing —"

  “You’re going to make an appearance with Aunt Gilda and me,” Evan said. “Press is too hot on this story. You need to make both appearances tonight, Baby. I’m sorry.”

  Drake rubbed her shoulder. “I’ve ordered a villa for us, for afterwards.”

  “Won’t the press follow me to the hospital?” Both men looked at her steadily, not blinking. “Oh, you want the press to follow me from the fundraiser to the hospital.” She wasn’t normally slow but stress did wonders for brain functioning.

  “Yes, for two reasons,” Drake explained. “We want the fundraiser to be successful for the hospital, and these headlines are negative press to fling at it. Secondly, since he was the one kissing you in the pictures, Evan needs to be photographed walking you in the hospital to see Matt. A public appearance this soon would show the vultures and their readers that we have nothing to hide.”

  “We’re making visual statements for the press’s sake?”

  “For my sake and yours, Vania,” Evan said. “The meddling part of the world needs to know that you and Matt may have broken up but you remain amicable, and there’s no love triangle involving me. He’s supposedly suffering in a damn hospital bed and appearing as the victim. It can’t go down this way in the media.”

  “Otherwise,” Drake added, “the press will run with this and end up exposing truths you don’t want exposed. In our world, privacy is a paid-for privilege. You don’t want everyone knowing what really happened between you and Matt, then about Club Saturday’s elevators.
Right?”

  “Right,” Vania whispered. She felt the water rising in her new fishbowl, curious eyes peeking in with flashing cameras and greedy smiles. “No matter what you two have, there’s no room to breathe, is there?”

  “We will have privacy later. When we celebrate your birthday in style. Lots of gifts.” Evan took off his glasses and winked at her. “Lots of skin on skin.”

  Vania leaned toward him. “How can you even think of celebrating at a time like this?”

  “Because our woman’s birthday is today and that means everything.”

  She shook her head, sensing a standoff.

  Drake rubbed a fingertip between her eyebrows, soothing her frown line. “Ready?”

  Evan smiled brightly when the limo’s door opened. “I’ll do all the talking. Don’t cling to Drake.”

  Don’t cling to Drake? Did Payton have to do this? Pretend she was with one man only in the public eye, while loving two in secret? Yes, of course she did. The world thought Payton Easton was Dylan Easton’s wife, solely belonging to him and not Avery.

  She tensed as Evan pulled her from the limo. He ran his hand down her spine until it rested possessively on her lower back. Drake stayed behind them.

  It felt weird.

  And wrong.

  Completely hypocritical.

  “Miss Lange!” A stranger called, his strobe blinking in her face. “Anything you want to say about your fiancé’s accident?”

  Flash.

  Snap.

  Flash.

  “Have you visited Dr. Lambert yet?” another asked.

  Snap.

  “Who is Gayle Murphy to you, Miss Lange?”

  Flash.

  “What brought on such violence on her part?”

  Snap.

  “How long have you been seeing Mr. Easton? The wedding venue hasn’t even been canceled with Matt Lambert yet.”

  Flash.

  Snap.

  Flash.

  Questions and snapping shutters were endless, turning the one-minute walk to the backdoor into ten. But Vania stayed at Evan’s side, keeping her mouth closed while he fielded each question hurdled at them. She had no idea what Evan was saying but she kept her chin at a normal level — not down as though she were ashamed, not up as if she didn’t care. She’d been drilled before she got in the car. No talking permitted because Vania had no experience with the media.