by Leigh, Mara
Her mouth was so dry. For one of the first times in her life, she had no idea what to say. Her breaths came faster, and she realized that she wanted to know him, too, but before she could get the thought to her lips, he took another step away.
“I was wrong,” he said. “An idiot.”
“Connor”—she struggled to regain her composure—“I’m sorry.”
“Do you always fuck men at conferences, then toss them aside?”
“Of course not.”
“Then what’s been going on here? Tell me. Because both times, you were certainly willing.”
He claimed that he wanted to know the real her, but she had her doubts about how he’d react if he heard. “Okay. If you want the truth, I’ll tell you.”
“I’m listening.”
Suddenly nerves scrambled inside her. As soon as she told him the truth, that she’d thought he was a sex worker, he’d walk away, disgusted. Suddenly, that wasn’t at all what she wanted. But she also knew that if they had any chance of getting to know each other, she had to tell him the truth about how they’d met.
She had to really lay herself bare.
She walked toward the service elevator that led to the back of her penthouse. “Come with me. We need to continue this discussion in private.”
Chapter Nine
* * *
“There’s really a company that does that?” Connor looked surprised, like he wasn’t sure whether she was telling the truth. But he didn’t seem disgusted. Not yet.
“I’m not going to apologize for hiring them,” she said.
His eyes opened wider. “That Ice Queen profile in Fortune—”
“You did know who I was.”
He shook his head. “I read up on you the next day. After your speech. The one when I thought I’d imagined your arousal.” He grinned. “I didn’t imagine it, did I?”
“No, you didn’t.”
“Where was he? Hiding under the podium?”
“No. I had a vibrator inside me, another on my clit, and he had a remote. I never knew when, or if, to expect stimulation.”
He started laughing and stretched his arm across the back of the sofa. “That’s kind of hot.”
“It was.”
“And exactly how many men did you fuck over the past two days? Besides me?”
“None.” She ran a hand over her hair. “Okay, suddenly I feel like Bill Clinton. It depends on your definition of ‘fucked’, but let’s just say that yours was the only real cock inside me this weekend.”
“Good.” He looked into her eyes and drew a deep breath, and once again she saw the possessive and powerful man who’d taken her. She saw the smoldering look of a man who wanted to take her again.
“Would that have been a deal breaker?” she asked.
“No.” He stood and pulled her up and against him. “But I’m glad.”
Putting his hand firmly in the middle of her ass, he tucked his fingers possessively between her legs. “And I’d like to know where to buy one of those remote-controlled vibrators.”
“Why?”
He cocked one of his eyebrows. “Why do you think?”
She smiled and wriggled against his fingers, urging them farther forward. As hot as it had been, being secretly turned on in front of that crowd, she liked the idea of sharing a secret like that with Connor, having him be the one in control of when and how long she had to cover her public arousal. “Kiss me,” she said.
He let go of her and stepped back. “Not yet.”
“Why not?”
“I want to see you naked.”
“You’ve already done that.”
“It will be different this time.” The look he gave her nearly set her on fire.
“You’re right,” she said. Everything was different. “You need to strip too.”
They slowly undressed, eyes on each other, enjoying every moment, drinking in every sight as they each laid themselves bare before the other.
When they were both naked, she tried to keep her eyes off his cock, hard and ready. An ache burned deep inside her. She was so ready. She’d never been so ready, even though they weren’t touching.
He stepped forward like a predator—slowly, purposefully, but instead of pulling her against him like she expected, he slowly ran his hands down her arms. He traced across her collarbones, down the center of her body and back up. Closing her eyes, she let him explore, and his fingers didn’t leave one inch of her skin unexplored, leaving hot trails of sparks in their wake.
After luxuriating in his caress, she opened her eyes, feeling dizzy and longing to touch him, too. Taking his hands in hers, she moved them behind his back. Then, with her eyes and fingers, she studied him: his ridges and valleys, his planes and edges, the soft and the hard of him. And when she finally looked back into his eyes, she felt as if he was the first person in her whole life that she’d truly seen, who’d truly seen her. The whole her.
Connor swept her into his arms and carried her into the bedroom. After gently laying her on the bed, he parted her legs and entered. Although the penetration was gentle, she cried out, shocked by the intensity as he slowly moved inside her. The other times with him had been hard and fast, but this time she felt every fraction of an inch of him as he slid against her, as they slid together further and further into an erotic bliss.
Rolling him onto his back, she sank deeper onto his cock, letting her body weight help take him all in. As soon as he was lodged to the hilt, she rested her hands on his chest and started to move. Slowly and deliberately she circled and rocked her hips, keeping him tightly inside, right where she needed him to be. As she rode him, his hands trailed over her body, grazing her breasts, teasing her neck, and always, always he looked into her eyes.
She’d thought she’d never meet a man with the potential of being her equal, her partner in life, a man who wouldn’t be intimidated or emasculated by her wealth or power. Was this the man? Could it be? Was Connor actual boyfriend material?
As if hearing her question, he firmly took her hips and flipped her onto her back. He pressed her hands above her head and thrust, deep and strong, slow and controlled, and the feelings continued to heighten. Without warning, he grabbed her legs, pushing her knees back near her ears, and he plunged hard in and out of her, possessing her, controlling her, but she knew she was controlling him too.
This was a case of mutual possession, and as the pounding continued, she responded in kind, meeting each thrust, writhing beneath him, heightening his pleasure and her own.
They shared control of the act until they both lost it. Beneath him, she shuddered and shook, her entire body contracting, thrashing under his unrelenting cock. He lost control of his speed, then closed his eyes as his entire body went rigid above hers with a few final hard thrusts.
When his eyes opened, he brushed his hands over her face and kissed her, tenderly, breathlessly, then rolled to the side, pulling her onto his chest.
“Fuck, Vicky. If you’ve got any more fantasies, you’d better tell me, because I plan to fulfill every one.”
She draped her leg over his body and reached down to stroke his damp cock. “I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.”
“Deal.” He pulled her higher and kissed her, and for the moment, even her most unattainable fantasy seemed within reach.
Note to Readers
* * *
Thank you so much for reading Dirty Business, Fantasies Unleashed 1. I’m honored and thrilled that you chose and read my book.
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To continue reading more fantasies, buy or pre-order these Mara Leigh titles now:
Bedded by Strangers, Fantasies Unleashed 2
Surrender, Fantasies Unleashed 3
For a sneak peek at Bedded by Strangers, turn the page!
Sneak Peek of Bedded by Strangers
* * *
When Jamie confessed to her husband that she fantasized about having sex with strangers, she never imagined he'd help make her fantasy come true. While in Las Vegas, Jamie has a sexual encounter with six hot men who fulfill her wildest dreams and leave her even more deeply in love with her husband.
CHAPTER ONE
* * *
“Has Vegas been everything you hoped?” I asked my husband, Thom, as we sat at the fanciest bar in our sprawling hotel. Behind us, tiny lamps cast low light on the chrome tables, and crystal chandeliers with crimson and orange bulbs spread starlike sparkles over the dark walls and the designer-clothed patrons.
“So far it’s been great.” He set down his beer. “But right now, my love, I’m more interested in you than in Vegas.” With a mischievous look in his eye, he raised his tapered glass to clink against my martini.
“What is it?” I asked. “Something’s amusing you.” I glanced toward the mirror that lined the wall behind the bar. “Do I have spinach between my teeth?”
“You’ve never looked more spectacular.” He put his hand on my thigh and stroked, teasing his fingers under the hem of my deep red satin dress.
As I brushed my thumb over the tiny creases at the base of his index finger, my body heated from the inside out, making me glad for the dim lighting and the overhang of the bar, which joined to hide our indiscretion. We’d been married ten years, dating for five and a half before that, and still my husband could make me wet with a touch, a look, sometimes a glance.
“Maybe we should finish our drinks upstairs,” I whispered, then traced my tongue through the tight groove at the edge of his ear.
Thom squeezed my thigh, shifting on his stool to disguise the rising pole tenting his pants. “I have a surprise for you.”
“Is your surprise by any chance under your belt?”
He laughed deep in his chest, a sound I loved more than just about anything in the world, and it was all I could do to keep from straddling him right there on the barstool. I couldn’t wait to get up to our room. Desire traced through me at the thought of elevator sex. When in Vegas, right? Did we dare?
“The surprise isn’t under my belt,” he said, his voice husky.
“Too bad.” I shifted, and his fingers slid higher on my thigh. “That looks like a very satisfying surprise.” I brushed my fingers over his erection, unable to imagine wanting him more. He stared into my eyes with a mixture of passion and unmistakable mischief. What was he up to?
“Remember that night when you told me your fantasy?” he asked.
“Yes . . .” I felt the flush on my cheeks deepen.
“I want to make your fantasy come true. Tonight.”
“You’re not serious.”
“I am.” Heat nearly consumed his eyes, burning me, too.
Clearly he relished the idea of playing the part of “stranger” in my sex-with-a-stranger fantasy. Of course, in the scenario I’d described there’d been multiple men, multiple strangers all taking me in turn, a group of men with no focus other than giving me pleasure.
What I’d imagined was purely fantasy. Thom was the only lover I’d ever had and, other than in dreams, I’d never been tempted by another man. Not really. Still, I loved that my husband was willing to role-play this fantasy for me.
“Do you come here often?” I asked, raising my martini glass and winking.
“Oh, I’m not playing a stranger,” he said. “That wouldn’t work.”
“What?” I leaned back. “You want me to approach someone in the bar? Pick someone up?”
“I hired someone.”
“A gigolo?” I blurted.
Grinning, he put his finger to my lips and we both glanced around the bar to see whether anyone had heard my outburst. The bartender quickly turned her head in the other direction.
I started to giggle.
Grinning, Thom leaned in close so he wouldn’t be overheard. “I hired a company called Fantasies Unleashed. They specialize in making fantasies come true.”
“Sexual fantasies?”
He nodded and the heat returned to his gaze. The look in his eyes was positively predatory.
“How would that even work? I mean...”
He cupped my face in his hand, stroking the tiny sensitive space where my cheek meets my ear. “They’re very professional. Trust me. Tonight, if you want to go along with this, their fantasy facilitators will make your wildest dreams come true.”
“Fantasy facilitators?” I gulped down more martini and it burned all the way down to my belly.
“That’s what they call their staff.”
A thrill raced through me. “That is such a sweet idea, Thom, really—and hot—but I don’t want anyone but you. When I told you about that fantasy, I never meant, I never imagined...” My breaths came faster and my mouth turned dry. I took another sip of martini.
“It’s okay,” he said. “It’s my gift to you. You’re allowed to want this. You can do this. What happens tonight won’t threaten what we have.”
I could never hide things from Thom. Even as I denied wanting the fantasy with words, my body and face revealed the truth. Never mind my insides, which continued to heat as I remembered how I’d described my fantasy to him, how I’d imagined being surrounded by handsome men all focused on me, all wanting me, needing me, fucking me in turns until I couldn’t take any more.
“But you—” I touched his hand. “Honey, even if that were possible, this is your anniversary, too, ours, and I—”
“Your gift to me was the trip to Vegas.”
“That hardly compares.” I kissed the soft place at the base of his thumb. “Plus, since I’m here, I’m benefiting from my gift to you. The only thing you’ll get from your gift to me is feeling alone, and maybe a little jealous?”
“I won’t be jealous.”
“Come on.”
“It’s not like you’ll be falling in love, and it won’t be a betrayal since I was the one who set it up. You won’t be doing anything behind my back.” His fingers stroked my inner thigh.
“Are you sure about this?” I looked into his eyes. “Are you even serious?”
“Very serious.” He shifted closer and his hand pushed up higher on my thigh. “Knowing that your fantasy is being fulfilled will satisfy me in more ways than you can imagine.”
Moving higher, his fingers brushed over my panties and I squirmed, both from the sensations and from my conflicting emotions. “How am I supposed to feel if my husband’s okay with my having sex with other men?”
“Grateful?” Grinning, he scratched his finger over the satin of my panties, dragging over my clit, and every blood cell in my body migrated between my legs.
“I want this for you,” he whispered, his voice low and deep. “Believe me, I’ve thought it through. I’ve thought about this—a lot.”
“Do you want to have sex with other women?”
“No,” he said. “I don’t fantasize about other women.”
“Then what is your fantasy?” I asked. “You never told me.”
“If I recall,” he said, “we got kind of distracted that night.” He kissed me, bringing back memories of that Tuesday night in June—one of our most spectacular, sexually speaking.
Thom had walked in on me while I was touching myself, almost ready to come, and asked what was on my mind. Before I’d even finished confessing the details, he was ripping his clothes off and we fucked for hours, not stopping until we had to get ready for work the next day.
“Just know,” he said, “I want this for you. More than anything. I treasure our sex life. I treasure you, and the thought of your being turned on, pleasured, surprised...” He shook his head while sucking in an audible breath. “The thought of you being ravaged, worshiped by other men—That’s my fantasy.”
“But this seems so one
sided.” I squirmed on the stool.
“It’s what I want.” He looked into my eyes and stroked my panties. “Assuming it’s still what you want? Do you want this to happen, for real?”
Turning to look at our reflections in the mirror behind the bar, I studied his expression. His gaze was directed toward my chest in that non-subtle way he had of ogling my boobs, and his fingers were still stroking between my legs. Was his suggestion some kind of test? Did he want me to retract my fantasy? Was this all talk meant to turn me on?
No. We didn’t play games with each other. Not mind games like that. Ever. I had to take him at his word.
But did I want my fantasy to happen? For real? Fantasies are one thing when they’re confined to our minds, when they’re used to turn us on when our lovers are away, or when we want to drift to somewhere different and exciting. My mind had played out variations on the same fantasy since I was a teen, but did I actually want the real thing?
My breaths came even faster; my entire body tingled with excitement. I downed the rest of the martini, letting it burn through me, enjoying the sensation as the alcohol loosened my tension and inhibitions.
Closing my eyes, I luxuriated under the teasing touch of Thom’s fingers, stroking me through the soft satin. Although I knew it was my husband’s hand, I tried to imaging that it was a stranger’s, and I imagined yet another man cupping my breasts while another captured my lips. The thoughts lit new fires; I felt sure my panties were soaked.
I did want this—a lot—and that my husband was willing to make it happen— “Yes,” I said on a hard exhale as I opened my eyes.
He drew a breath so deep his shoulders rose. “Good.” He slipped off his stool.