Sarasota Sin

by Scott, Talyn

  Vivian gushed in his palm as Avery inserted four fingers. “Our sweet Hungarian is well versed in accepting two cocks at once without using her ass.” He placed one hard kiss on her clit, sucking it afterwards. “Aren’t you, lovely.”

  That caught Evan’s interest. “Even cocks as large as ours?”

  Avery circled her distended nub with the very tip of his tongue. “Yes.”

  “Yes,” she echoed, thrusting her hips out for more.

  Julian swatted her ass with a firm hand. “No begging, pet.” She cried out when Julian inserted one of his long fingers with Avery’s four, collecting moisture to soak her back rosette. Julian then inserted his middle finger in her ass slowly; causing a slight friction Avery could feel against her vaginal walls.

  Julian lowered his head and nipped her ass, sliding his tongue over her hip. “She’s taken here, too, A, just not as much. A little tight, but she doesn’t need any training.”

  “Still,” Evan suggested, “why not take advantage of her welcoming pussy, especially if she has room for two?” Evan lowered Marla from her brink, holding her face in his hands and reading her eyes. “It looks like you want more. If so, shake your head yes.” Marla nodded yes, watching Avery remove his soaked hands from Vivian’s pussy and licking them clean with appreciative sounds.

  Avery smiled up at Vivian. “Better than anything I could have eaten at that damned fundraiser upstairs,” he said with a devious chuckle. To Julian, he said, “Let me taste her ass.” Considering Marla’s sharp groans, Avery knew she was highly pissed, waiting for his attention.

  Too fucking bad.

  He traded places with Julian. Down below, onlookers were watching their interaction, seeing that Avery was attending luscious Vivian and ignoring Marla. But for some reason, this slight comeuppance for Marla wasn’t the reward he thought he needed.

  Julian lowered himself down Vivian’s front, sliding his thick cock on her stomach, over the smooth flesh of her pussy, positioning the head against her clit. He held it firm with one hand, delivery slow circles as he wrapped her waist with his opposite hand. Unlike Avery, Julian had no qualms kissing Vivian’s lush mouth, and that’s exactly what he did.

  Avery had the globes of her ass spread wide, her puckered opening tightening against the cold air. And although it was a sight to behold, what really turned him on was watching Julian ravish Vivian’s mouth, his tongue moving against hers. Julian swallowed her raw sounds as he rolled his cock head over her.

  Avery raked a gentle finger down Vivian’s back crevice. Even though his body and mind hadn’t been into this scene from the beginning, his heart was kicking him in the ass now. He was lost in a need no one here could fill, and he hated nights like these more than anything. Nights where his next breath burned his soul all over again.

  “A?” Evan put a hand on Avery’s shoulder. “Just go. We’ve got Vivian.”

  Evan pitched Julian a condom, and he only pulled away from Vivian’s mouth long enough to tear the package. With his mouth back on hers, he gloved up expertly one-handed.

  “Thank you, Vivian.” Avery stood, placing a tender kiss between Vivian’s shoulder blades. Cutting the night extraordinarily short from what he originally intended. “I leave you in qualified and safe hands.”

  Marla looked relieved, almost smug, when Avery removed her restraints. He grabbed oil and quickly massaged her wrists and ankles, ignoring how her fingers raked through his hair. A nearby attendant placed her clothes and shoes in a special bag. What he hated most of all was removing her gag, but he did so efficiently, rubbing her neck and then her jawline hurriedly.

  He motioned for an attendant. “Let’s go, Marla.” Aftercare could pamper her. He didn’t want to touch her anymore.

  “A private room,” she cooed. “I knew you couldn’t tease me for long, especially after Evan wouldn’t grant my orgasm.”

  Instead of addressing Marla, he pulled five hundred dollars from his wallet. “A little something for you,” Avery said, handing over the tip to the attendant. “Anything she needs in aftercare, charge to my account.”

  “Of course, Mr. Easton.”

  “Aftercare!” she shrieked. “I need to come. I miss you.”

  “All you miss is my money.” Avery waved a dismissive hand at her. “I don’t make the same mistakes twice.” He walked away, blocking out her rants, the name-calling. Another attendant whizzed by, helping the first escort her to aftercare where she would be massaged and brought to orgasm again and again. It was no hardship to be there for Marla.

  As he descended the last step, he raised his eyes to find Evan on his knees, spearing Vivian’s ass with his tongue as Julian slid into her pussy with one masterful stroke, his ass tightening and releasing with each slow thrust. And Avery wondered if this scene would ever be for him again. Then Evan stood as Julian stilled his movements, Evan threading his erection up Vivian’s sweet channel so they could thrust in unison with one big cock. When Evan reached her top, he groaned so loudly, he muffled himself against the side of her throat. After another long settling moment, Julian and Evan worked her together.

  In and out.

  In and out.

  In and out.

  Vivian’s cries were heard all over the club, above the cracks of whips, above the pounding music. Little did she know, the Easton men were only beginning to play.

  Avery left the club worse for wear. The short journey back to the real world was longer than he expected. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to reenter the fundraiser, shaking hands and forcing smiles with strangers only linked by wealth, before he took a breather.

  He availed himself of one of the tower’s lower suites, merely two floors up, to dispel the aftereffects of Level 69. Avery scrubbed his hands and face in the bathroom sink, but the aftertaste of Vivian still lingered. Using the complimentary toiletries, he took a disposable toothbrush and paste in hand. After a sound five minutes of brushing, he polished off with mouthwash.

  Taking a cleansing breath, Avery stared into the vanity mirror. Even fully clothed, he could see the scars, could feel them blazing beneath the most expensive fabric his type of money afforded. “No matter what you do, you still look like hell, Avery Easton.” And why shouldn’t he? He certainly burned in it, paying daily for a sin he never committed.

  Glancing at his watch, he realized it was still early. Knowing he needed to make another appearance for his mother’s sake, he left the bathroom and passed the open balcony, but something caught his eye, forcing a double take. He stepped out, trailing his fingers over the cool railing. Down below, Dylan was dancing with Caroline, her blonde hair swinging with each step. Although he hadn’t been as attracted to Caroline as Dylan was, Avery still would have tried to make a family. “That could be me on the other side of her, you asshole,” he muttered into the night air, willing his words to Dylan’s ears. “But you decided to fly solo.”

  When he started to turn away, a possessiveness he’d known only years ago suddenly rose up inside Avery, and it had nothing to do with Dylan and Caroline. Avery gripped the railing until he thought his fingers would snap under the force. Searching, his eyes darted over the expanse of the south lawn. “What am I looking for?” Just as he asked the question, he found an object of profound interest. Her familiar red hair glistening under the gas lamps, her beaded gown clacking as she strolled purposefully into the ballroom, her heavyset posterior swaying back and forth with her steps. His lips curved the moment he reached inside his coat and pulled out his Venetian mask.

  “Crimson beauty, here I come.”

  2

  The Easton Hotel was muggy, nearly stifling when coupled with Payton’s nerves and the weight of her costume. Pressing a hand down her heavily beaded flapper dress, she searched the packed ballroom, her eyes bouncing from couple to couple. Sarasota’s elite danced in swaying circles, their smooth, practiced movements spoke of inherent elegance and generations of wealth. Payton had neither of those things, but her brain leveled the playing field quite a bi
t, which was the very reason she crashed this by-invitation-only fundraiser tonight.

  She had a plan.

  Finishing her third champagne, she placed the empty on a glass top ledge and teetered on impossible heels to the nearest exit, passing through French doors leading to an amazing nighttime view of the Gulf of Mexico. She inhaled the salt air, which was usually a calming balm to her jittery nerves, but it wasn’t working tonight. Nothing would soothe her until she could claim mission accomplished. Sweat was dripping down her temples, her back, and between her breasts. Not to mention that sensation of being watched had come back ten-fold in the past fifteen minutes, and her skin prickled off and on with an uncomfortable sense of awareness. Once again, she glanced left and then right, never spotting anyone fixating on her. After another deep breath, Payton strolled across the candlelit veranda to her best friend’s side.

  “Oh, Libby,” she whispered discreetly, picking up her fourth glass of champagne from Libby’s serving tray. “I can’t find an Easton anywhere. How do they throw the largest, annual charity event in Sarasota and not show up for it?”

  “Eastons are old money, and old money knows better than to commit such a faux pas.” She stopped speaking and offered champagne to a benefactor with a placid smile, waiting until the gentleman passed before continuing. It was odd seeing Libby completely at ease her first night as a server. “Talk in the kitchen says a few of the brothers are here. I’ve served some of their cousins alongside their aunt. Stir clear of the aunt, though. She’s an eccentric nut.”

  “Well, right now, I feel like a nut, too.” Libby’s boyfriend Stephen owned the catering company responsible for supplying a small part of the vast event. “I’m out of my element here.”

  “Just stick to the Easton men. We have to find one and hope he will take the time to discuss our issue.” Checking her watch, Libby added, “Time’s nearly up. The party will be winding down in two hours.”

  “Stick to the men,” Payton echoed and then tossed back her liquid courage in three consecutive swallows. “Got it.”

  “You’re swaying.” She grabbed the crystal flute from Payton’s hand. “Why go overboard? You know you can’t hold your liquor.”

  “Champagne is not liquor.” She adjusted her Venetian mask with a huff, pulling sticky, golden feathers from her lip-gloss.

  “It’s all the same to you,” Libby argued through a clenched smile, while settling her tray on the buffet table. She placed miniature crab-stuffed tomatoes and scallop ceviche with tarragon vinaigrette on a square, silver plate. “You’re a lightweight, and I don’t have time to watch over you tonight while working.” She pushed the plate in Payton’s hands. “Eat this, and watch the dress. I have to get it back to the theater by early morning or someone will notice.”

  Eyeing the food, Payton whispered, “I really appreciate Stephen sneaking me in here.”

  “I know, Pay,” she whispered back, her mouth softening beneath her silver mask. “I don’t want us losing what we’ve worked so hard to attain, but we’re putting Stephen in a serious bind.”

  “This is the last bind, Lib,” she promised right as she spotted an imposing man making his way to what locals called Tower Amore, with a leggy blonde in tow. Payton narrowed her eyes, trying to get a good look at him as he unhooked the velvet rope blocking the tower door. “Hmmm.” She sat her uneaten plate down and snatched another flute of champagne. “It might be time to beg for crumbs from the master’s table.”

  Libby followed her line of vision, squinting through her mask. “Even half smashed, you have eagle eyes. Where?”

  “Going into the tower,” Payton explained, mentally reciting everything she planned to say.

  “I think I see him. Tall as the sky, dirty blonde hair, and shoulders twice as big as they should be?”

  “Yeah.”

  “That’s Dylan Easton then,” she replied knowingly. “He was by here earlier. I’m told his grandfather started The Easton Company.”

  He wasn’t wearing a mask, so Payton took a long minute to run her eyes all over him as he ushered his companion inside the door. Dylan Easton was well worth a few tipsy-fueled moments of admiration. After finishing another drink, she sat down her empty. “He looks young.”

  “Older than you.” Libby cleared some plates off a high table, loading down her tray. “I overheard him introducing himself as one of the board members.” She nudged Payton with a prodding elbow. “Maybe he’s your only shot tonight.”

  “I’m going.” Payton brought a cocktail napkin to her chest, blotting her perspiration. That niggling sensation was hitting her again, raising her hackles. Here at a cocktail party for the rich, why did she feel hunted? “Should I wait until after he’s done his thing with her?”

  “Nope.” Libby gestured at the tower. “I’ve been inside once before, and there are many rooms and several exits. You might lose him if you wait.”

  She slipped another glass in her trembling hand and said in passing, “Either way, Lib, I’m going to piss him off.”

  Libby brushed her shoulder sympathetically. “For our sakes, let’s hope not.”

  Five minutes of maneuvering her way through the crowd later, Payton palmed the tower’s door handle, turning it, her index finger gliding over a small inscription: Easton Hotel 1926. Although she’d been a child when it happened, Payton remembered this tower was the only original structure left of the first Easton Hotel after the grounds caught fire nearly fifteen years ago. A night still horrifically embedded in the memories of most locals. Not only had the Eastons lost family to those mysterious flames, but also longstanding patrons.

  When she stepped across the threshold, she wasn’t shocked to find that time stood still here. Though her surroundings were clean and posh, the tower hadn’t been updated in more than a decade. Obviously, it stood unused. Maybe it was a memorial the family could no longer share with the public.

  She raised a brow, hearing footfalls echo across the black and white checkered floor. Following the sounds of low laughter between seconds of utter silence, Payton made her way down a darkened corridor only lit by an exit sign. The red light glowed, beaming down and illuminating Dylan’s blond head with nothing short of the devil’s halo. He had one hand underneath the blonde’s knee, pulling her leg up his thigh, her silk hose scraping the expensive fabric of his pants. His other hand cupped his companion’s breast, his thumb and his forefinger squeezing her pebbled nipple through her dress. Payton’s mouth went dry, her mind reeling with thoughts of this man doing that to her body, making her moan in anticipation of what was to come.

  As Dylan nipped the woman across her collarbone, taking measured bites as he went along, his teeth flashed white in the glowing red. When had a man ever devoured Payton like that, as if he couldn’t take another breath without touching her?

  Never.

  Giving her pause, Payton flattened her palm on the wall and fought the clenching building low in her belly. Clearly, she’d had too much to drink because watching wasn’t her style. Ever. While warring with whether to leave or to stay and interrupt him, Dylan Easton lifted his golden head.

  Blinking his eyes a few times, he zeroed in on her. “Hey,” he called out, his deep baritone rumbling down the quiet corridor. Removing a hand from the blonde, he curled his index finger in a come-here motion. “If you want to join in, we’ll have to take a room upstairs. The wall isn’t the best place for what I have in mind for three.”

  Payton knew she couldn’t afford to tell him off, but his arrogance deserved a serious set down. Briefly, she closed her eyes, searching for the right response. When she parted her mouth, the sound of flesh smacking flesh stopped her reply. Payton opened her eyes to find Mr. Easton rubbing his jaw.

  “I told you I wasn’t into any of your kinky shit, Dylan,” the blonde snapped furiously. “I’m better than this, and I’ve had it with you!”

  “Come on, Candice, don’t be that way,” he called to her, rolling his eyes as she stomped by Payton.

 
Sudden tears filled the woman’s eyes when she turned around. “My name is Caroline. After two weeks of taking me every which way you can, don’t I deserve to be called by my actual name?” She stayed his response with her hand, shaking her head in disgust. To Payton she said, “Run from all Eastons. They’re beautiful. They’re rich. They’re powerful. And how they make you feel in bed…” She left that thought to hang as she took one final look at Dylan, her eyes burning with frightening need and desperate longing. “But they’ll destroy you, particularly him.” She left in a fury of clicking heels, clenched fists, and bouncing curls.

  Payton gaped. “Aren’t you going after her?” Dimly, she realized that she was slurring.

  In the distance, the door to the tower slammed with finality. His eyes lit up, the aqua conflicting with the red-lighted sign. “Why would I go after her when I have you? Here. Alone.”

  This wasn’t the response she expected. Good thing she wasn’t a horny, needy woman who couldn’t go toe-to-toe with his charms. She pushed away from the wall when he spun on her. One of his hands pressed against the wall by her head as his broad-shouldered body backed her to the smooth, fresco-painted stucco.

  “Your hair is natural, isn’t it?”

  “Y-yeah.”

  “Mouth dry, sweetheart?” he asked smoothly, lifting the flute from her hand and tipping the rim to her lips. “Allow me.”

  Another drink couldn’t hurt, especially before she told him why she was here. Payton downed the entire contents, licking her lips after he slowly eased it away. Staring down at her, his breathing kicked up a notch as his opposite hand left the wall. When his thumb settled on the center of her bottom lip, he brushed it back and forth methodically, stoking the ache nestled low in her belly.

  His face appeared almost pained, his deep voice cracking when he whispered, “I miss…you.” The crystal flute fell out of his grasp, hitting the checkered floor with a resounding crash just as his mouth landed on hers.