To Have and Hold (The Club #19)

by Isobelle Cate

  "I'm a surgeon." Adam took another shell from the platter and slurped the oyster.

  I wondered if he slurped off the juices from a pussy.

  "Really?" I took a sip from my flute trying to get my raging hormones in check. "Which part?"

  "Cardiothoracic."

  My brow puckered. "Heart?"

  Adam nodded. "Anything to do with surgical procedures to the chest. So that could be your lungs, esophagus and as you say, the heart."

  "That must be pretty complicated."

  "It is," Adam admitted. "And bloody stressful. It gives me a sense of satisfaction that I've been able to save a life, though."

  My mouth twitched. Bloody, huh. Might try using that expression sometime. "But why Karim?"

  "Brock invited me to invest in Karim. Got to speak with Jet Mak, too." Adam leaned back against his chair, exuding sex. I knew his legs were spread apart because his knee was touching mine. Electrical charges were running up my thigh and tweaking my sex. "Then you have The Club. My kind of scene."

  My thoughts exactly. Not just the scene, but it was also my kind of sin. At least that's what people who didn't like my kind of kink would think.

  "Brock? Investment?" I asked as I watched the play of muscles when he moved to eat. I watched his tongue pick the oyster meat from the shell. Strong, pink.

  And wet.

  Hell, so was I.

  My hand reached out for an oyster while I waited for Brock to reply. He beat me to it and raised the shell to my lips.

  "Suck this, Simone." His mouth curled to one side.

  "What are you trying to do?" I scowled.

  "What?" His eyes widened in false puzzlement.

  Puzzlement my ass. Eat. Suck. Shit, the words were whirling around in my mind. What else were they going to say that was suggestive of sex?

  Pink.

  Moist.

  Succulent.

  Well, three could play the game.

  My eyes locked with his. I opened my mouth and angled my head slightly to do as he asked. Sucked out the oyster from its shell.

  Brock tried to stop his grin from widening. The innuendo was clear in his eyes.

  "I own a construction firm," he finally said. His thumb hovered by the side of my mouth. He waited, his brow arching in challenge. I pulled my gaze to Adam. He watched us, his mouth twitching in amusement.

  Pinning Brock with what seductive stare I could muster, I closed my lips over his thumb and swirled my tongue around it. He inhaled sharply. Again, I bowed my head slightly to take his thumb all the way into my mouth and pulling my lips away, letting go with a popping sound.

  "Baby, I'll need to think of something else because I'm so hard under the table." He murmured, and I laughed softly as I leaned back in my chair.

  "Serves you right." I patted my mouth with the napkin from my lap before crossing my legs. "Let's talk about your construction firm."

  "Dennis brought me in to construct the houses and condominiums here in Karim."

  "Really?" I sat up straighter. I didn't know that. Dennis never told me. Then again, I was only involved in the sales department. I was too engrossed with people knowing what happened in Houston for me to really go out and socialize. The paranoia could be debilitating. Even here in Karim, someone could still recognize me. I was only being careful.

  The initial sexual tension the men ratcheted up was diffused by talking about what they did for a living. Nevertheless, it was still there between us, skimming the surface, waiting for another spark for it to break through.

  I realized that Adam was the more contemplative one, quiet but dangerous. Brock was the gregarious one, loved to do the talking but not for the sake of wanting to hear his voice. He knew his field, knew what Karim wanted and, from what I could gather, was also on good terms with the Mak family. They were making Karim the next go-to destination and soon Palm Springs would have nothing on them. Brock and Adam knew each other from way back when Brock lived in England for several years. He returned to the States to set up his own company. Just listening to them talk, laugh and chuckle, so relaxed in their own skin, was doing tingly things to my core. Adam had a sexy British accent. Brock's accent was sometimes a mixture of British and American.

  Dinner was over almost too soon. I was so engrossed with the two men with me I didn't notice that the restaurant was now packed, with a line of patrons waiting for a vacant table. Giuseppe with his now shiny bald pate moved in and out of the kitchen, talking in Italian so fast it was like watching a silent movie on steroids. Outside, people promenaded, laughing in groups, holding hands in pairs. It was a beautiful night.

  Despite the sexual innuendos during the meal, I didn't think it would lead to anything more. After my breakdown two Fridays ago, I doubt Brock and Adam would want to have anything to do with me. It was good while it lasted, though, alleviating my anxiety about they thought of the incident.

  I protested when Adam insisted on paying for dinner resigned to thanking him in the end. We wove our way through the now crowded restaurant, excusing ourselves as we passed the crowded entrance. I waved at Giuseppe not bothering to hug him as I normally did because the place was busy.

  "Ciao, bella!" He managed before helping the waiter clear the table.

  The night's hot air wasn't a welcome feeling after the coolness of the restaurant. I couldn't wait to go home, strip and watch a bit of tv before going to bed. I liked documentaries, and I wanted to catch up on several documentaries being replayed on the History Channel. So much for doing something about my drying girly bits. I turned to Brock and Adam at the curb.

  "Thank you. I had a great time." I really did. The heaviness I had been feeling for so long seemed to have lifted from my shoulders.

  "Where are you heading?" Adam asked, his hands on his hips. His woodsy scent drifted with the breeze to me. I inhaled the only remnant I had of the man.

  "Home." I twisted and jabbed my thumb back.

  "And?" He cocked his head to one side.

  "And nothing." I lifted a shoulder in bemusement. "I need to get some housework done."

  "At night?" Brock stepped forward, his muscles straining against his shirt when he crossed his arms over his chest. His gaze wasn't as intense as Adam’s, but it still made my belly flutter. I craved what I imagined he could give me. And it wasn't an oyster.

  Two men. I always wanted two men to have me, but it was a kink I kept secret even from my ultra-religious closet intellectual parents. Society's dictates stopped me from pushing my boundaries to explore how far I could go. When I finally did, society condemned me.

  "Simone—"

  "It's Bettina," I blurted. "Bettina's my real name." Their initial confused looks gave way to clarity. Simone was the name I gave people when I didn't want them to know who I was. It was my protection against indecent proposals I didn't like coming from someone out of the blue just because you're alone and they want to know what your name is.

  I don't know what compelled me to trust them with who I was. Could it be the extreme attraction I felt for them? Hardly. In Houston, I was attracted to a lot of men and not once did I give out my real name.

  "I will assume that Adam and Brock are your real names," I stated looking alternately at them.

  Adam smiled that mysterious half-way smile that made my belly flutter.

  "Yes, they are," he murmured. "We never kept anything from you."

  "Oh." What else could I say?

  Brock approached me, the heat of body coming in gentle waves towards me. He didn't make any move to touch me, unlike earlier that evening.

  "I don't know about Adam, but I'd like to know you better." Brock chuckled ruefully by way of apology, his green gaze warm. "That must have freaked you out the first time we met. We shouldn't have come too strong at you. Don't know about my friend Hunter here, but I deeply regret that. I'm sorry."

  Chapter Six

  Wow, I wasn't expecting that. I looked at Adam.

  "That goes the same for me," he said taking my hand. He d
idn't look away while he brought my hand to his lips and kissed it. I pulled in a deep breath, releasing it slowly. How could such an innocent kiss be so sensual? "Forgive me?"

  "Look." I gently pulled my hand from his grip. "We've been through this. You both have nothing to apologize for. What happened two Fridays ago had more to do with a memory than what was happening between us."

  "So you like this kind of kink then?" Brock pointed to himself and Adam. His voice was low so that people milling around us didn't hear what we were talking about. I heard him all the same. I watched the play of the muscles of his arms flex when he crossed them over his chest. It was deceptively casual, innocent even. But I knew what they were implying would eventually lead to some very blissful vertical and horizontal gymnastics. The thought was making me quietly go out of my mind.

  "Jordan, maybe tonight's not the right time, mate," Adam said, watching me, gauging my reaction. He reached out and rubbed my arm and only then did I notice the concern behind the desire reflected in his blue gaze. "Bettina?"

  "I—"

  "That Friday, you said the safe word subs say." Adam's tone was gentle and soothing. It was almost mesmerizing. His hand moved to my shoulder blade, massaging it. The kneading and relaxing pressure made me close my eyes. "Even Brock and I know that, and we're not into that kind of lifestyle."

  My head bowed when a wave of shame almost crested over me, but I was able to beat it back. That was good. That was progress.

  "That's why I called Beebee," Brock added. "I couldn't find Dennis and when you started trembling before passing out --" Brock turned away. Did he just swear under his breath? I couldn't make out his words because, at the same time, a group of giggly twenty somethings passed us. Every one of them, down to the last woman turned back looking at the two men with me. The women were dressed to the nines, all of them beautiful.

  Brock and Adam didn't even spare them a glance.

  The playful look I already associated with Brock was replaced by a pissed face of someone who wanted to smash someone's jaw. I looked at Adam who let go of me.

  "Brock?" I walked to him, touching his arm. His head whipped around, the planes of his ruggedly handsome face harsh under the street's lamplights. "Please...don't."

  I felt the tension slowly ease off under my touch.

  "Heck, Bettina." He took me in his arms and held me to his chest. Encircled, I felt surprised at first before I relaxed into him, my arms going around his waist. "I'm not into this protective shit. Whoever did this to you better hide in a place I won't find him. He won't be safe even under the rock he crawled out from."

  "Let's go someplace else." Adam was beside us, looking around. "We're causing quite a few people to watch us. I'm not into all this bloody reality tv."

  A hundred yards away was The Club. A white and black oasis that beckoned us to safety. I felt its pull. We all did. Felt the need to be inside and give in.

  "What do you say?" Brock's voice rumbled against my ear.

  My voice was muffled, but they heard me.

  "Okay."

  Trepidation and excitement trickled down my spine. Was I weird or wired differently than the rest of the people around me? I was caught between craving and not wanting this like I was atop the center of a see-saw balancing on four inch get-me-laid heels and a strong wind was threatening to push or pull me off from where I teetered. A part of me sneered, threatening to make me take back what I said. But I was a person who kept my word. Especially where seeking pleasure was concerned.

  I buried the taunting voice deep into my subconscious as I straightened my back. I wasn't exactly dressed for the occasion. Then again, my dress wasn't going to stay put over my body the moment. .Damn, just the thought sent my pulse racing ahead of me.

  Adam and Brock walked on either side of me, as though protecting me from being pushed by the ever growing crowd out on the town. We strolled along Gerome street, joining the multitude who were walking towards The Club's vicinity. There was a long line of wannabe members. Some of the men wore suites even in the sweltering heat. Others wore jeans that rode low on their hips, their muscled abs encased in tight white t-shirts, or in some cases, wrapped around growing beer bellies they tried to hide by sucking their guts in. The girls were in different states of dress and undress. Their skyscraper heels imprisoned their feet such that when they moved along the line, they could have put the bride of Frankenstein's monster to shame. I thought that since Dennis and I went through the front entrance, I'd do the same thing with Adam and Brock. I was wrong. Adam took my elbow and veered us to the side of the building, where I had my breakdown. I faltered.

  "Bettina?" Adam had just taken a half step when he stopped.

  They both looked at me.

  "Are you okay?" He looked at me before turning his attention to Brock to nod curtly.

  I watched Brock approach the entrance and put his thumb on what I could only surmise was the fingerprint reader before the door opened. This time, there was no guard.

  "I'm fine." I gave Adam a brief smile, finding my voice. I was more than fine. We had crossed that place on the street where I embarrassingly fainted. Like my own personal rubicon, I pulled through. Now my body was thrumming in anticipation, and my sex was so ready if the dampness at the juncture of my thighs was anything to go by.

  Like the main floor, there were people in suits here as well. We were ushered up the steps into the belly of hedonism. Would I see Dennis here? I wondered how he'd look as a sub. That image still did not compute.

  The stairwell was flanked by dark wood and electric lamps that looked similar to the lamp lights that flanked The Club's main entrance. I felt like Alice in Wonderlust going through a brocaded tunnel of burgundy. A lot might think that the surroundings looked more gothic, more scary than sexy. To me it was sensual, exuding an atmosphere that allowed hormones to get it on. To get down and fuck.

  It was exactly what I desperately wanted to do.

  We entered the bar where couples and threesomes had something to drink and maybe someone to lick. Not that the clientele were humping each other here. It was more of restrained foreplay. I saw couples kiss, touch each other with featherlike strokes. They were dressed differently here. Women wore basques that cinched their waists and garter belts that held their stockings. Some wore just cinchers, their breasts fully exposed. Some nipples had tassles, others pierced. I saw a Dom who had his sub sitting beside him. The sub's eyes were lowered and her hands obediently on her lap. There were women wearing latex that shone in the light. Their subs were on a leash, kneeling at their feet while the masters and mistresses ordered drinks and talked. It was all sorts of kink that wasn't seen downstairs. My cheeks warmed and my breathing shortened. Adam didn't speak beside me, as though giving me the time to adjust to the surroundings I only imagined. Giving me the time to breathe the lust in. He stayed close as did Brock, both of them protecting me from anyone or anything that could destabilize my equilibrium. Adam's hand was warm on my lower back, and I leaned back to him. Eventually, he wrapped his arms around me, his body flushed against my back. My mouth quirked to one side when I felt his hard-on brush against my ass. That hard-as-granite length of flesh had my sex getting wet once more. I may not have been dressed to fuck, but that would come soon enough.

  Brock stepped away only for a moment to return with a drink in his hand. He handed it to me, and I smiled the moment the liquor touched my tongue.

  "Bailey's chocolate?" My smile widened. "How did you know this was my favorite drink?"

  Brock grinned.

  "Lucky guess," he said before leaning down to take my mouth with his. The moment his tongue entered, my pussy wept. I felt my clit throbbing, desperate. Brock's lips were full and firm and still had a hint of the champagne we drank earlier. Adam put my hair to one side to brush his lips against my nape. Goosebumps raced across my skin. My nipples pebbled as two pairs of hands started caressing me. I would have dropped the glass of Bailey's if it hadn't been for Brock, taking it from my hand and placing
it on the nearby table.

  "Bettina," Brock murmured as he pulled away. I could melt right there and then at the way he looked at me. I looked back at Adam from underneath my lashes, my body unconsciously swaying as his hands on my hips dictated.

  "Hunter, we can't do this here." Brock looked up at Adam. "Management will kick our asses out."

  "Agreed," Adam said against my hair. "Room 2 is ours."

  "Room?" I was still dazed at the attention they bestowed on me. I left Adam's arms when Brock pulled me to his side. We walked along the hallway, leaving suspended decadence behind to enter our own lust filled bubble.

  The room we entered was softly lit with vanilla scented candles that flickered on the bedside table and the round table adjacent to the window. Beside the candles was a vase filled with long stemmed red roses and a bottle of Dom Perignon inside an ice-filled bucket. A simple brass bed dominated the room with pillows and sheets in jewelled colours of greens, lavenders, and blues.

  I couldn't admire the rest of the room as much as I wanted to because the moment Adam closed and locked the door, Brock was on me, taking my mouth once more in a frenzied kiss that matched my burgeoning lust. He was aggressive. Greedy. It ratcheted my desire, but I wanted Adam's kiss too.

  As though he read my thoughts, Adam placed his hand on my nape and turned my head to reward me with a torrid kiss of his own. He plundered my mouth, our desire almost consuming us as our mouths mated. My arms encircled his neck, and his arms closed around my waist and back before they traveled down to squeeze my ass. He pulled me in, the hardness between his thighs indenting my belly. I moaned, wiggling against him. He rewarded me with a chuckle.

  "It's not just the two of us, sweetheart," he said. But that didn't register as the endearment made me freeze. Again. Brock sensed it. "Bettina?"

  I swallowed, but my throat was dry. I had to tamp down the urge to cough. There is was again, the feeling of being pulled in two opposite directions.