Pleasure shattered me, sparking through my body with bursts of fire as every nerve ending sprung to life. I glanced over at the people watching us, and my pussy responded uncontrollably, swelling and moistening with need. Their loud cheers and leering eyes were an aphrodisiac—and they fueled me to flaring heights.
The sexual torture went on for what seemed like ages. Hands and tongues swept over my skin. They touched, caressed, teased, pinched, probed, flicked, until I almost exploded in a storm of sensations that washed over every corner of my body. I growled my pleasure and wiggled in my restraints, body quivering and head spinning.
The four men had touched every part of me, except for my clit. They had purposefully left out my most sensitive part—the part that guaranteed an instant orgasm if probed and flicked the right way. I had a feeling that Seton knew this, and that he’d instructed these people to ignore that one vital part of my anatomy. I turned my gaze away from the leering crowd and focused on Seton. He stood in a nearby corner, watching me as his cock appeared and disappeared in his fist. His trousers were held in place by the belt, only his privates were exposed. His jaw was clenched and his eyes bored into mine, studying my reactions to the heady ministrations.
A man in the audience let out a wolfish growl while another one cheered. I loved this—the touching and licking, the audience, Seton’s unwavering gaze—and I lolled my head back and groaned.
Seton called out something to Raven. She was talking with Quinn at the opposite corner of the stage. She brushed a kiss across Quinn’s lips and sauntered over to Seton. He whispered something in her ear, and she turned her gaze to me, her lips curving into a devilish smile. Then she crossed over to me, her leather-clad hips swinging with each move. The crowd let out loud, enthusiastic cheers. Obviously, Raven was very popular around here.
“That’s enough, guys,” she ordered my four tormentors. They stopped at once, turning back. “Now, Miss Fordham,” she purred throatily. “Let’s see if you’ll like a little girly action.”
Trepidation coursed through me. I’d never been with a woman before. I didn’t know if I’d be into this kind of thing, but one look into Seton’s face, his eyes dark with passion, made me want to try it. I wanted to please him as much as he had pleased me.
I held my breath as her palm cupped my breasts, raking her long red fingernails over one nipple as she yanked on the chain. The ruby studs jangled from the effort. I jerked reflexively when she pulled roughly on the chain again, but the brief flare of pain transformed into staggering waves of pleasure.
“Think of your gorgeous master watching us, honey,” she whispered throatily, her breath warm as she leaned over my nipple. “Think of how much he wants you right now.”
Pleasure overtook me as Raven flicked her tongue over my nipple, and I arched my back so that I was fully in her mouth. Her lips were soft and her tongue felt fantastic as she swirled and licked expertly. I closed my eyes and moaned as she rose up on her knees and moved her mouth to my other breast. My hands clenched in their restraints, a dull numbness seeping its way through my outstretched arms, but I ignored the discomfort as Raven’s exquisite mouth brought me closer to a climax. I felt her slide her long-nailed fingers between my thighs to stroke my clit, and I gasped, my voice breathless.
Abandoning my nipples, she rose up, towering above me, and did something that I never thought I would ever experience—she kissed me. Her mouth opened mine, her tongue seeking mine, then slipping into my mouth. Kissing a woman was different than kissing a man. Her lips were softer, gentler, and she tasted better too. She treated me with a tenderness that no man—no matter how thoughtful or skilled—had ever achieved. As she kissed me, I thought that I’d want to be with a woman. Why not? From what I’d seen, women could give each other intense sexual pleasure. But perhaps I was just thinking that way now because Raven was so beautiful and alluring. I’d very likely feel differently once this was all over.
Her fingers worked on my clit, and I whimpered as the orgasm got closer, closer, just within reach. One strong flick was all it would take to make me come. Mmm. Yes. Right there, right there, so close, right there—
I jumped in surprise when Seton pushed Raven away, possessiveness and hunger flickering across his passion-filled face. He swiftly slipped on a condom, eyes glimmering wickedly at me, and I leaned toward him and brushed soft kisses across his face, then smiled, resting my forehead against his. An odd look passed over his face, then his expression changed to one of determined lust as he took the chain that joined the nipples and tugged. Tremors of erotic pain rippled through me, and Seton took advantage of the distraction to remove my pantalets. Loud whistling and catcalls poured into my ears.
“They’re watching us, my pet,” Seton rasped out, cupping my ass and hoisting me up. Instinctively, I wrapped my legs around his waist. “And they’re about to watch you take my big cock into your gorgeous little cunt.”
He plunged into me, slowly at first so that I could adjust to the full length of him. This was the first time he was inside of me, and I wanted to enjoy the sensations as much as possible. He began to move faster and I matched his rhythm, clenching my internal muscles, squeezing, suctioning, pulling him deeper and deeper. I moaned whenever he withdrew far back enough to graze my aching clit. The ruby beads on my nipples clinked and clanked against each other with each rough stroke that Seton delivered. I watched the guests watching us, and basked in the pleasure of their unwavering gazes. The mask gave me enough anonymity to make me feel safe in this glorious place that made people’s erotic fantasies come true.
I felt so ready, so close, that if I could somehow apply pressure to my clit I would reach that much needed release.
Suddenly, an extra set of hands curled around my waist, sinking me down onto Seton’s rocking hips. Growling with pleasure, I turned my head to see Quinn’s silver-blue eyes gazing lustily at me. As he held me, the tip of his tongue curled out to flick my ear. He was aroused. An impressive erection pressed against my ass.
“David is a lucky man,” he whispered in my ear. “I would hold on to you if I were him.”
Spinning out of control, I gazed back at Seton. He was looking at me as he fucked me, emerald depths gleamed with lust and determination. Then, out of nowhere, he withdrew from me.
“What do you say?” Seton asked hoarsely.
My brain was too foggy to follow. “What I say? What?”
“Say please.”
I groaned in frustration. “You are such a bastard.”
He teased the flaring tip against the opening. “Let me hear you beg for it.”
“Come on, mate,” Quinn said from behind me, voice amused. “Don’t make the lady beg. I’ll be more than happy to take your place, if you like.”
Seton glared at Quinn, then he leaned forward and bit me gently on my bottom lip. “Say it.”
Nah, what the hell. “Please,” I whispered, my voice so low that it was almost inaudible.
His eyes darkened. “Please, what? And say it loudly so that everyone could hear it.”
Oh, for crying out loud! “Please, Sir!” I bellowed. “Please…I want you.”
In one swift movement, he surged into me with a force so powerful it shook every part of me. My body felt overwhelmed at the suddenness of his thrust, but it welcomed and reveled in it nevertheless.
“You are mine, my pet,” Seton said roughly, possessively, as he plunged harder inside of me. “And I have every intention of putting my mark on you in every possible way.”
My mind whirled with confusion at his words, but all thoughts escaped me when pleasure erupted between us, my orgasm ripping through my body in hard, shuddering spasms. He climaxed right after I did, a hoarse growl of pleasure rumbled from deep within his chest.
I collapsed against him and heard loud cheering coming from our spectators. I felt Quinn move away. He brushed a soft kiss across my shoulder as he unhooked my bound hands and freed them from their silky restraints. Then he mumbled something about calling it
an early night and rushed out of the stage. I had no idea where Raven and her four trainees were. Nothing mattered to me at that moment. All I cared about was the man that held me in his arms, sweeping feather-light kisses all over my face. I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him back.
“Marjorie,” Seton whispered hoarsely in my ear. “My sweet darling.”
Why did he suddenly sound so sweet, so affectionate? So… loving? An aching feeling of longing shuddered through my soul and tears threatened to trickle down my face, but I held them back. I didn’t cry. I’d never cried. Not since I was a little girl. So why was I feeling this way? Why the sudden rush of sadness?
Ignoring the sounds that stirred around us, we remained there, holding each other. Seton had the look of a smug, contended man and I smiled to myself. This was just sex and nothing more. I knew that. And yet something passed between us when we fucked, especially when he said that he’d mark me in every possible way. I had no idea what he’d meant by that, and I wouldn’t ask him. He may mark me in every physical way, but that was as far as it would go. I may relinquish my body to a certain degree, but I would not relinquish my soul.
That I would never do.
“Marjorie! Wake up!”
The air was rich with cologne, aftershave and man when I stirred to life. Yawning, I opened my eyes and squinted at the darkness.
Seton sat next to me, and then I knew where I was. We were in his car, parked in front of my house, having returned from a sexy tryst at a private fetish club in Albany, New York. I must’ve fallen asleep some time during the quiet ride home.
For several seconds, I simply sat back in the comfortable leather seat, staring almost blindly at the ceiling. God, what a night! It was a night full of hedonism and sexual freedom. An experience I would never forget.
I turned my gaze to Seton and smiled drowsily at him. His gaze met mine, green depths as cold and expressionless as his face.
He reached into the pocket of his waistcoat and pulled out a gold pocket watch. “It’s almost five o’clock in the morning,” he said icily. “I strongly suggest you go home and get some rest.”
I blinked at him. What the hell? What happened to the man who held me in his arms after he fucked me in front of a large crowd? Where was the man who had tenderly carried me to his car, kissing me and smiling at me?
He stared at me in that flat and remote manner for another few seconds, then said, “Go home, Miss Fordham. I’ll see you at the book party tonight.”
Book party? What book party? Ah, yes. I couldn’t believe I completely forgot about that book launch. Bookends AtoZ had been making major buzz about it all week, but I hardly paid attention to the preparations, for my mind was constantly fixed on Seton and his cold treatment of me. The same sort of treatment I was being subjected to now.
George opened his door and was about to climb out when Seton said, “Miss Fordham will see herself out.”
My head spinning with sleepiness and bewilderment, I somehow managed to open the door and scoot out of the Mercedes. I was closing the door when the car sped away. I watched it disappear down the street. Lifting my chin, I fought away tears of rejection and confusion as I shuffled to the front door.
I won’t cry, I thought. I wouldn’t cry over him. Not now. Not ever.
I won’t cry I won’t cry I won’t cry I won’t cry I won’t cry I won’t…
Chapter Six
The woman staring back at me looked pretty damn good. She was, in fact, beautiful.
She wore a tailored 1940s style red satin dress with short frilly sleeves that were slightly off the shoulder. It had a square neckline and a tight skirt that reached her knees. The dress had been an impulse buy, a big splurge she’d regretted later on, so much so that she hadn’t even worn it until now. Her hair fell in loose, Ingrid Bergman-like curls down her shoulders, a look she had achieved thanks to her curling iron. Her face was made up with nothing more than a touch of mascara and red lip gloss, giving her a natural yet vampy look. Around her neck a thin gold choker with a small heart-shaped charm twinkled prettily. (The choker had been a birthday present from her mother.) A slender black belt was wrapped around her narrow waist. She wore sexy underwear underneath her dress—black lace bra and matching thong. She’d donned silky-smooth see-through stockings with no garter belt, for the belt lines would’ve been visible through the tight skirt. Four-inch black leather mules completed the look.
The woman in the mirror was both elegant and sexy. She was sophistication and confidence personified. She was in control of her life. No one would be able to see past her glossy exterior.
Yup, I thought as I posed in front of the mirror, you may not care for me, Mr. Seton, but even you will like this woman!
I didn’t bother to pretend I hadn’t dressed this way for Seton. He was my obsession—there was no getting around that fact. I hadn’t eaten well for the past several days and hadn’t slept much since Thursday night. I couldn’t sleep after Seton dropped me off at home last night. Tiredness was seeping its way into my system, but I ignored it. I would enjoy myself tonight. I wouldn’t look for Seton at the party. If he wanted to talk to me, he would have to make the first move. If he ignored me, then so be it. A man’s attention, or lack thereof, had never fazed me. I could be just as aloof as he.
A car honked its horn just outside my house. My ride had arrived. After one final mirror inspection, I grabbed my keys, lip gloss and BlackBerry and tossed them inside my Fendi evening bag as I scooted out of the house and climbed into the taxi.
The main entrance at Chez Josef was full of our guests—the crème de la crème of the literary world this side of New England—as they gathered around and greeted each other.
Alfred, looking distinguished in a tailored black tuxedo, was smoking a cigarette and chatting with one of our clients when his eyes did a double-take in my direction. A look of surprise passed over his face. He treated me to one of his big toothy grins as he extinguished his cigarette and waved me over. I smiled, feeling sexy and self-assured as I swayed my hips toward the main door.
“Wow,” he exclaimed, admiration dazzling in his hazel eyes. “You look like a brunette Lauren Bacall.”
I raised an eyebrow. “And here I thought I looked like Ingrid Bergman.”
He chuckled softly and made a dismissive gesture with his hand. “You know I’ve always had a thing for Bacall. For a moment there I thought you dressed like that just to please this poor, decrepit man.”
I laughed. “You are hardly decrepit, Alfred, and you’re definitely not poor.”
“Yeah, well, you look beautiful, kiddo.”
I flashed him a grateful smile and brushed a kiss across his leathery cheek. “So, where’s the missus?”
He grimaced. “At home. She said that if she so much as heard the words ‘book launch’ again, she would scream.”
I snorted. “I don’t blame her. These little book thingies get tiring after a while.”
Alfred sighed as he offered me his arm and ushered me into the building. “Yeah. Imagine doing it for more than thirty years.”
The banquet hall at Chez Josef looked like most other banquet halls I’d ever been to: all bright lights and sparkling chandeliers and white table cloths. Most of the guests were already there, all of them looking dazzling in their best evening finery. But I wasn’t conscious of any of it as Alfred walked me to the star table. Anticipation coiled in the pit of my stomach. I scanned the room and saw some familiar faces. Jeremy, Magda and her husband Tom were there, all three perched in one corner, chattering away with one of our authors. Staff members and clients alike were scattered across the reception hall.
Where’s Seton?
I sighed when I realized I was doing the very thing I swore I wouldn’t do.
“You think he’ll show up tonight?” Alfred whispered in my ear as he pulled out a chair for me. No use in asking who “he” was.
“No idea,” I responded as I grabbed a champagne flute from a passing waiter and downed
half of it in one gulp.
He sat on the chair next to me and grunted. “God, I hope he shows up! You know what that would do for us, just having him here?” He shook his head. “Man, Minou’s career will have a major boost with the kind of publicity she’ll get when he shows up.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Minou doesn’t need a boost. The woman’s a genius.”
“She’s a brilliant writer, but not popular enough…yet.”
Samantha Minou was a favorite in the underground literature world and one of Bookends AtoZ’s most accomplished authors. Everyone looked forward to her book releases, which happened once every two or three years. We were never disappointed with her work. Her books were surreal, hilarious, dark and sexy, and the sales were always favorable. Her third novel, a brilliant satire about mental health specialists called Psychotics Anonymous, went into its second printing just three weeks after its release—a rarity at Bookends AtoZ. We were celebrating the hardcover release of her fourth novel—a humorous yet complex love story titled The Mist—dozens of which lay on top of a large square table right at the center of the banquet hall. Book critics of all walks were attending the party and Alfred saw that as a golden opportunity to spread the rumors that Seton may be joining us soon. He was counting on this event to pressure Seton into starting business negotiations with us. He didn’t have to tell me that was what he had in mind. I could read it in his eager little eyes. I stared at Alfred, wondering if he’d always been that greedy or turned that way the moment Seton came knocking on our door.
Samantha Minou had arrived and was air-kissing all of the guests. Her husband—a tall, elegant-looking man with gray hair, broad shoulders and dark eyes named Claude—hovered patiently beside her. Samantha looked lovely in a simple lavender gown that reached her ankles. She was very tall—about six feet—and her blue-black hair spilled glossily down her back. She spoke with a thick French accent despite having lived in this country for over a decade. Alfred got up to greet her and Claude. They air kissed me and the others before sitting at our table.
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