“Now, the most important question,” she says, and there’s a sly gleam in her eyes as her lips curl upward. “When are you going to consider settling down and giving me some grandbabies to fawn over.”
My mother would gasp in a slight outrage if she heard Leonie right now. She’d be offended that Leonie would consider herself a grandmother to any potential offspring I might have, but I love it. While I don’t understand grandparent influences since I didn’t have them, I suppose if I ever did have kids, I’d want them to have a grandmother like Leonie instead of my own mother who can be cold and off-putting in the best of times.
“I’m still a young man,” I grin at her. “Plenty of time still to sow more wild oats. And you’re still a young woman. Plenty of time for grandbabies later.”
“Bah,” she grumbles, flicking her hand. “You should fall in love, kiss your woman under the Eiffel tower and enjoy the rigors of what it takes to make babies. You work too hard, and you’re too jaundiced when it comes to love.”
“Don’t I have reason to be?” I counter, no hint of teasing at all in my tone.
Her expression sobers, and she nods, “Aye… you have reason.”
She knows. The only one who really does.
“But,” she continues on with the tone of a woman that’s seen a lot in her many years. “You shouldn’t let past experiences define the way you step into your future. Because if you do—if you let it scare you and put boundaries in place that you’re afraid to cross—you’re going to miss out on so much opportunity.”
I give her a wry smile. “You’re ever the romantic, Leonie. Aren’t you?”
“I just want you to be happy, Declan,” she counters pointedly. “I don’t want you to sabotage yourself in finding that happiness.”
In a rare display of genuine affection, because those moments strike me few and far between, I reach across the table and hold my hand out to her. She doesn’t hesitate, placing her wrinkled, age-spotted one in mine, and I curl my fingers gently around her. I squeeze lightly and hold tight. “I am happy, Leonie. The way my life is right now, I’m pleased. And I don’t feel things are lacking. But I do love you for worrying about me in that way. I know I can always count on you to worry over me, and that’s something I’ll always treasure.”
Her eyes get wet with emotion, and I squeeze her hand one more time before letting it go. It’s been a good night for sure. I got to spend quality time with my favorite woman in my life, and I got an agreement from Bailey that she’ll attend The Wicked Horse with me tomorrow night.
Yes, I’m happy with my life right now.
CHAPTER 14
Bailey
My nerves are stretched to capacity, the endings buzzing as if electrified. While I might be strutting confidently through the lobby of the Onyx Casino toward the elevator that will take me up to The Wicked Horse, I’m a mass of jangled emotions inside.
This is it.
The night that Declan and I will come back together.
Physically.
Carnally.
Without restraint or judgment.
It did not help that Declan wasn’t in the office today. He had sent an email that he was going to work from his personal suite, and for a time, I wondered if he was sick, or even having second thoughts. But one of the other women in the secretarial pool said that he often worked from his place on the top floor, or at least he had before I had started my position. They all chattered that he probably had been working more in his office to train me properly in my job, but now that I had been here for a few weeks, he felt he could work remotely.
I have no clue about his reasoning, only that not seeing him today in our regular work routine has made me infinitely more eager to see him tonight. Almost in a starved kind of way, but that may also be because I know deep in my heart that he’s going to give me something tonight that will be shattering.
We may be done after this meeting. We may want more. I think the fact I have no clue what’s going to happen only levels up the anticipation.
Declan asked me to meet him here, which I believe is just another way he wants to make sure there’s a bright line of separation between our working relationship and the sexual. I’m okay with that because I have zero aspirations that this is going to turn into a love story. In fact, I’m as adamantly opposed to love and the romantic notion of soul mates as I was on the day my divorce to Caleb was finalized.
Love, commitment, partnership, and devotion. Pipe dreams, every bit of it.
Wild, raucous, guilt-free sex with a handsome man who wants nothing from me but my body at night and my brains by day?
Sign me the hell up.
The elevator ride up is distracting, as I ascend with a young couple that can’t quite keep their hands off each other. He boldly stands beside her as they kiss, his hand up the back of her skirt. By the way she’s squirming, I’m fairly sure he has his fingers inside her.
God, I feel twitchy. So tightly wound.
The elevator doors open. I step up to the podium, giving the woman there my name. She smiles and replies, “Mr. Blackwood is already here and requests that you meet him on The Deck. Do you need help finding it?”
I shake my head as I remember seeing the hallway that led there. “No, thank you.”
I ponder grabbing a drink at the bar, but ultimately, I’m too excited to take the time to do so. I move with purpose through the crowd, knowing that I look the part. As if I belong to this debauched lifestyle.
For the first time in a long time, I’m not wearing one of the expensive outfits Declan had purchased, instead opting for one of my dresses I used to wear in my clubbing days. Back when Caleb and I first started dating and could dance until the wee hours of the morning together.
The outfit I chose tonight is a form-fitting black dress that is long-sleeved and stops just above my knees. It has swatches of material cut out of it at strategically sexy places such as my outer thighs, my back, and across my shoulders. I’ve always had an uncanny knack for walking in high heels, and I pulled out a black pair that had four-inch stilettos built upon a two-inch platform base. It adds significant height to my frame and brings out the definition in my legs.
I went crazy on my hair and makeup tonight too. Wavy curls and a windblown beachy look, plus dark shadow and eyeliner with ruby red lipstick, sends the clear message that I’m up for a wild time tonight. As I looked at myself for a final time in my bathroom mirror, I knew tonight was more about me feeling good about myself after Caleb broke me down than anything, and I was not going to shortchange myself in any respect.
Essentially, I’m going all in.
I move past other club members and make my way down the short hallway that leads out to The Deck. I’m not quite sure what to expect, but given the name “The Deck,” I’m going to assume it is just that. An outdoor gathering place.
What I don’t expect as soon as I open the door and step outside is that this part of the sex club, while indeed an outdoor venue, is made entirely of transparent acrylic so you can see straight down, 40 stories, to the city below. For a brief moment, my stomach lurches as I have the sensation that I’m getting ready to fall. I grip onto the door handle and balance myself as I take a deep breath.
Lifting my head, I glance around to take in my surroundings. In addition to the see-through deck, the furniture—chaises, chairs, tables, bar—are also made from acrylic, so nothing impedes the view.
To my left is a bar area where I spot Declan at the end. Casually dressed in a pair of charcoal-gray pants and a white, button-down shirt opened at his throat, he has a drink before him. His eyes are pinned on me—first on my face—then they make a slow roll down my body and back up again. His lips tip up in appreciation.
After another deep breath, I release the door handle, then take steady steps in my high heels across the acrylic toward him. There don’t seem to be many people out here. Perhaps it’s the slight chill in the evening air, or maybe things don’t get started until later. There is a handfu
l of men standing in a group. Bachelor party, perhaps? There’s one other couple at the bar—a man and a woman—with their heads close together, clearly murmuring dirty things to each other.
When I reach Declan, he asks, “Would you like a drink?”
I shake my head as I reach out and pick up the glass sitting before him. I dip my head and sniff. Bourbon.
Lifting his glass to my lips, I take a deep swallow before setting it back down to the bar top. “I’m good.”
Reaching a hand out, Declan slides his fingertips over the patch of bare shoulder showing. “One of the great things about a sex club is it isn’t necessary to waste time on social niceties or foreplay.”
“You can get right down to the heart of the matter,” I say in acknowledgment.
Declan’s gaze moves from where his fingertips are sliding against my skin to lock onto my face. “Efficiency at its finest,” he murmurs.
Without warning, his hands move to my waist and he pulls me in. I gasp. His legs spread out from his barstool. He draws me in until his thighs cage me in. “But I happen to like foreplay.”
His words send a shiver up my spine. They seem promising and ominous at the same time. I have no choice but to leverage myself by putting my hands on his shoulders because the next thing I know, he’s pulling my dress over my head. I have a brief flash of self-consciousness as I realize I’m the only one out here without any clothing.
“Nice,” Declan rumbles as he notices I didn’t bother with panties.
He also notices something else different from the last time. His eyes narrow before coming to meet my own with an appreciative smile. “You waxed?”
I nod, once again feeling strangely self-conscious. I don’t want him, however, to think I did this just for him.
For tonight.
“About a week ago. I like the feeling.”
I was a big-time waxer when I was married to Caleb. He’d always seemed to like it. After the divorce, though, those barren times when I wasn’t having sex with anybody, I hadn’t felt the need. But Declan reawakened my sexual side, so I decided to go bare again. It feels better whether I’m taking a shower with water pelting down on my slick skin or touching myself.
I imagine it’s going to feel over-sensitized tonight, and I can’t wait.
Declan’s palms come to cup my jawline on either side of my face, and he dips his head in closer to me. “I need to know if you have any lines you don’t want to cross tonight?”
I am not unprepared for this question. I have spent a lot of time over the past few weeks—not only for my job but to assuage my general curiosities—researching sex clubs. I’ve seen enough to know exactly what goes on here, and I feel well informed.
Shaking my head, I say, “I don’t think so.”
“If anything I want to do makes you feel uncomfortable, you just need to tell me. Understood?”
I nod. I am clear. We already had this talk when he had me sign the agreement. “I’m good.”
And another delicious shiver runs up my spine as the expression on Declan’s face turns almost feral.
He stands from the barstool and takes my hands. Wearing nothing but my sky-high heels and the cool evening air around me that has my nipples pebbled, he leads me across the deck. I glance around and see the group of men watching us. All conversation has stopped between the lot, and their eyes are lasered onto my naked body. I feel a flush between my legs at the knowledge they’ll soon be watching whatever Declan decides to do to me.
He leads me over to a wide acrylic platform that sits approximately a foot and a half off the deck. There is a low-slung chair also in clear acrylic at the end of it.
Turning me slightly, he nods downward, indicating he wants me to lay on the platform. When I turn, he holds my hand while I manage to gracefully lower myself, but I don’t go all the way. With my knees bent and my elbows pressed into the hard surface, I look expectantly. He merely moves to the chair that sits at the end of the platform closest to my feet. I spread my legs slightly, giving him a view of my bare skin. He makes no secret he likes it from the way he’s staring. Slouching down into the chair, he casually crosses one leg over the other and puts his chin in the palm of his hand as his elbow rests on the edge. For a moment, we just stare at each other, and I have the strange sensation I’m going to be performing for him. Performing for everybody out here actually. The men standing nearby are now watching avidly.
“She’s ready,” Declan announces, loud enough that everyone out here can hear it.
I startle, realizing that he is actually talking to the group of men. As if this were planned. A jolt of what feels like electricity courses through me, and my eyes widen as all five of the men put their drinks down on nearby tables and walk over the deck surface toward me.
I’m frozen, caught between excitement and fear as they circle the platform. Two men on either side and one down near my head. They all look to Declan expectantly. My eyes fly back to Declan, and I ask in a trembling voice, “What’s going on?”
Declan’s eyes bore into mine, and his lips curl up in a sexy smile. “These men are going to touch you. All over and in any place they desire. They can’t fuck you, though. And they can’t let you come. Let’s just say I want to watch the foreplay for right now.”
I should be feeling overwhelmed and out of my league. Instead, I feel a surge of confidence in my sexuality. This is every woman’s dream… to be put before several men and have them pleasure her.
Although, if he thinks that five men are going to touch my body while he watches and I’m not going to orgasm, he’s sadly mistaken. I’m so wired right now just by the prospect of what he’s suggesting, I feel like I could orgasm from the slightest touch.
But I guess there’s only one way to find that out. I fully recline out onto the platform.
And I wait for the first man to lay his hands on me.
It doesn’t take long. The first man kneels near my hip, his warm palm settling on my belly. An innocuous touch in most circumstances, but given I’m in a sex club, completely naked, and a stranger is touching me provokes a reaction. My back arches so that I’m pressing up into his touch.
It’s like a green light, and all the men crowd in close. Hands go to my ankles, and my legs are pulled wide. I’m embarrassed and titillated at the same time. I lift my head to see what Declan’s doing. He looks so damn hot, sitting there watching. He appears casual, almost bored by his slouched position with his chin resting in his palm, but his eyes are a dead giveaway. They are pinned on me with a ferocious intensity, burning with something I can’t describe, but I know it makes my entire body feel twitchy as if I’m in desperate need of something that only he can provide.
Hands move to my breasts, and fingers pinch at my nipples. The man standing near my head bends over me and runs his lips along my neckline. A hand moves from my stomach, over my hairless mound, and through my lips before sinking deep into my pussy.
“Oh, God,” I moan, my hips rotating of their own volition and my eyes fluttering closed so I can concentrate on the sensations.
One finger turns into two, then they rhythmically stroke in and out. It feels good, but it’s also not enough. My hips gyrate, demanding more… deeper, another finger, harder thrusts.
To my surprise, hands move to my hips and thighs as well as my ankles. I’m pressed hard onto the platform, my movement halted. It makes me feel helpless and takes away my control, and God help me… I like that feeling too.
Another sensation hits me… softness on my stomach, and it takes a moment for me to understand its lips. Delicate nibbles down my belly, a wet glide of a tongue. My breath catches as the man’s mouth moves lower until he grazes over my mound. I tense, knowing exactly where he’s going and begging him silently not to stop.
When his tongue pierces the top of my slit, right where my clit resides and licks at that sensitive nub, I buck so hard the hands holding me down are momentarily dislodged.
One of the men laughs darkly, murmuring, “F
uck, she’s sensitive.”
Yeah… no way I’m not coming. What they’re doing to me is too dirty and forbidden for my body not to be completely enslaved.
I keep my eyes squeezed shut, wondering which man has his mouth on my pussy. When his tongue starts laving with determined strokes, I start to pant like a needy dog. My hands move automatically to try to grab onto the man’s head, but they’re restrained. I’m pinned down again. In my imagination, a hundred men are holding me down for the one man between my legs to feast. I feel like a sacrifice, and I want to be devoured.
Lust and need are making me crazy. I start chanting… begging really, “Please, please, please.”
The men seem to be all over me now. Fingers inside me, a tongue at my clit, teeth at my nipples. My body bucks and my hips writhe, trying to draw more attention. My blood is pounding in my veins, and a low, delicious throb starts low in my belly.
Christ, I’m ready to explode.
“Enough,” Declan booms, and my eyes fly open over the command in his tone. Lifting my head from the platform, I watch as he looks around at the men, who have frozen in place. The man whose mouth is on my pussy looks up, an irritated expression on his face. “Your job is done, gentleman.”
A low growl of frustration rumbles in my throat, as I was on the verge of what I know would have been a shattering orgasm.
Slowly, the men straighten, giving me smirking nods before fading away into the background. Back to their drinks and whatever debauchery they might find for the evening.
Leaving me splayed out on the acrylic platform with Declan in the chair before me. He’s not slouched casually, though. Instead, he’s sitting straight with his legs parted. I can see his erection pressing against the soft material of his pants.
He studies me as if he can’t quite decide what to do next. But that doesn’t last long. I know firsthand Declan Blackwood can make decisions when warranted. I lean up, pressing my elbows down and watch him with fascination as his hands work to free his cock from his pants. He deftly pulls a condom out of his pocket, opens it up and has it rolled over his shaft with fluid precision.
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