There’s something in his eyes that I can’t identify, something dark and wanting. It makes me even wetter, and I squirm, my body touching his as I move. He presses forward, and my back hits the wall.
“What about you?” he asks. “Do you want to play?”
I stare up at him. I know what he’s asking. He wants to know if I want to play with him. The answer should be no. It really should be. I don’t know him from Adam. He’s just a name and a gorgeous package.
And an air of ruthless control.
I should say no.
“Yes.” I swallow. “But not…out there.” I’m embarrassed to admit it, but the public nature of the club is just a bit much for me.
He moves again, nudging me further into the alcove, and then there’s a rattle and the rest of the room is cut off by a velvet curtain.
A faint glow outlines the shape of him, and I look around for the source. He leans back, and I see recessed lights giving off a purple glow.
“Not red,” I say, then want to roll my eyes at myself. Way to state the obvious, Nancy Newbie!
I feel, rather than see, him smile. “Red seemed a little too on the nose. Besides, people should feel comfortable here, not pressured to do anything they don’t want to do”
That makes me smile, and then his head lowers, blocking out the lights, and I feel his breath on my lips. He stops, his mouth hovering over mine.
“Do you want me to kiss you?” he asks, his lips brushing against mine with every word.
“Yes,” I breathe, and he does, his mouth covering mine gently but firmly. My lips part on a gasp at the tingling warmth radiating from his touch, and his tongue sweeps over my lower lip and into my mouth.
I clutch at his arms as his tongue touches mine, and he groans, his tongue sliding over mine, teasing, thrusting, as he pins me to the wall with his hard body.
Heat cascades inside me, lava rolling through my veins to pool between my thighs. I’ve kissed boys before, but not like this. Never like this. I’m writhing against him, trying to get closer, to crawl inside his skin, suddenly desperate for something I can’t name but I know he can give me.
My hands slide up his arms to grip his shoulders. He angles his head, deepening the kiss, and I moan against his lips. I can’t help exploring further, my hands running over his chest and pushing his jacket open. My palms flatten against his shirt, reveling in the hard lines of muscle beneath the fabric before tugging at it, yanking it out of his pants and touching his bare skin, silk over steel.
He pulls back, leaving me sagging against the wall, gasping for air, wondering what I did wrong. Then he wraps one hand around both of mine and presses them to the wall above my head.
I can’t keep my body from moving, undulating like a wave. Something about being restrained, even in such a small way, has that unbearable tension in my belly intensifying, tugging at my pussy.
His grip is powerful, but not tight. Just tight enough that I can’t easily break free, and oh God, I’m already struggling to breathe against the wave of need lighting my blood on fire.
“You’re so beautiful,” he says, his free hand sliding back down to my shoulder, then over my chest, between my breasts. I expect him to touch them, I want him to touch them, to ease the painful ache in my swollen nipples, but he doesn’t, and I make a desperate, needy sound.
“Beautiful, and eager,” he says, and his voice is much rougher now. “For me.”
“Yes,” I gasp. “Please.”
“Have you done this before, McKenna? Had a man touch you like this?”
His voice scrapes over my skin and I arch into it. “No. Never. I’ve never even—”
He pauses. “Never what?”
I stare up at him, my chest heaving. “I’ve never had sex.”
Something darkens in his eyes, a heavy heat that only deepens the need I feel. “And you want this?”
“Yes,” I moan. “Please.”
“As you wish.” He drops a kiss, hot and brief, on my lips, then pulls back, and I whimper with frustration.
His hand, however, keeps going. Sliding down my body, over my ribs, dipping in at my waist and out over the flare of my hip. His palm flattens over my rounded ass, and he squeezes my flesh, making me moan again. Then he keeps going, cupping the back of my thigh and lifting it against him, over his hip, pressing my leg around his waist before cupping my ass once more as my dress rides up and he presses me back into the wall.
The hard bulge of his erection nestles right where I want it, pressing against my needy pussy, separated only by his pants and my panties, and my head drops back on a strangled groan.
“Good girl,” he murmurs, his voice rasping in my ear. “So responsive.”
He flexes his hips, and I arch against him, desperate for more. His hand kneads my ass, his fingers sliding closer to my core.
“Are you okay? You want this?” he asks, pressing his hips forward.
My response is somewhere between a gasp and a moan. “Yes,” I breathe. “Yes, please, yes!”
“Lift your other leg,” he orders me, and I do it without question. Deep inside, I’m wondering why I follow his commands as though they’re law when I never do that for anyone anymore, but right now, I don’t care. I want what he can give me, and part of that is his total control over me in this heady, pleasure-drunk moment.
I tighten my legs around his waist and pull him against me, and his grunt mingles with my moan of pleasure as his cock presses hard against my hot, swollen pussy.
His mouth covers mine again as his hand slides over my hip, dipping under the waistband of my panties. Then his fingers curl around the fabric and he yanks them away. His lips absorb my cry of shock and desire, his tongue dominating my mouth, his body and his other hand keeping me pinned to the wall, entirely at his mercy.
I don’t care. I want more. I want everything.
He pulls back to stare at me, and even as I gasp for air, I can’t look away. His eyes gleam in the low light, and I’m trapped by the dark promises I see there. Then he leans in again, licking the shell of my ear.
“Needy girl,” he rasps as I moan and whimper. “Such a pretty, ripe cherry.”
He slides his hand into my hair and tugs gently, angling my head so that his mouth can access the delicate skin of my throat. His hips move against me too, and every thrust, every wet glide of his tongue, every nip of his teeth, has me gasping and groaning as my bones turn to molten gold, leaving me powerless to do anything but feel.
His hand leaves my hair, smoothing down over my breast, my waist, my hip. Then he pulls the fabric of my dress up, up, up, baring my belly, my ribs, my bra. He leans back so that the soft, violet light dances over my skin, and very slowly, he pulls down the cups of my bra, releasing my breasts, and I gasp as my nipples harden further in the cool air. His eyes rise to mine, and I can’t name all the things I see there.
Then he lowers his head and takes one of my nipples into his mouth. I choke on my cry of shock and need, the sensation almost too much for me to process. He sucks, and the friction of his lips and tongue combined with the pressure of his cock against my clit is overwhelming, driving me right to the edge. Then he rolls my nipple between his teeth, and nips at the swollen tip, sending silver arrows of need through me. The ache in my pussy is unbearable now. I writhe against him, begging him for more, for things I can’t name, for things I didn’t know I wanted.
His mouth gentles on my breast, and his hand smoothes over my ass, his fingers pressing in closer and closer to my core until they brush through my wet curls, and I gasp, barely able to breathe. He releases my nipple and then covers my mouth with his, swallowing my cry as he pushes his fingers inside my pussy.
I’ve barely had time to adjust to the invasion before he curls his fingers and hits some magical spot inside me, and my orgasm crashes over me in a tsunami of pleasure so intense, it borders on pain.
I shatter into a thousand pieces, broken apart from the inside out by my first ever man-made orgasm, and his lips
and tongue absorb my screams as his fingers pulse inside me, sliding in and out, drawing every last drop of pleasure from my body until I finally melt against him, limp and trembling and on the verge of passing out.
He eases his fingers out of me, and touches them to my lips. I automatically lick at the wetness on his skin. He groans and kisses me again.
When he leans back, I realize my feet are on the ground, my knees wobbly but doing their job, and he releases my hands before leaning in to cup my face with both of his. He kisses me, and this kiss is different. Deep and wet, gentle and firm. Almost like a promise.
He eases back from the kiss, nipping and nibbling at my lips, and gradually, I’m aware of sound coming from the other side of the curtain. The reality of what I just did comes crashing down on me. What the hell was I thinking?
And how the hell do I get out of here?
I’m not this kind of person. I don’t do this. I don’t… It’s not me. I have to leave.
It’s almost like he has a sixth sense about it, because he eases back from me, looking down at me with shadows on his face which aren’t caused by the light.
“Come,” he says. “I’ll take you back to your friends. But first…”
I don’t know what I expect, and I flinch as he reaches for my dress. His lips thin, but he’s gentle as he straightens my clothing, rearranging my bra and dress so it doesn’t look like I’ve just been ravished by a complete stranger. I have no idea where my panties are, but I think they’re in pieces anyway, judging by the way he tore them off me, and no one will be able to tell.
Except me.
He captures my hand and leads me out of the alcove, but as soon as we’re clear and I’m oriented, I pull free and head for Cleo and Venice. They’re sitting in the booth, but as soon as they see my face, they both stand, and we head for the stairs.
I was right. As soon as I pulled away, he let me go, and as we go down the stairs, I tell myself that’s a good thing. I’m not that kind of girl. I don’t do those kinds of things. I can’t afford to do those kinds of things. I can’t afford to want them. I have a life, an important, valuable life, and it’s not here. Not with a man like that.
No matter how much, deep down, I wish it was.
Chapter 3
Gibson, today, and it’s not a good day…
I stare at Declan. To his credit, he at least meets my angry eyes. “You’re kidding me. You are kidding me, right?”
He shakes his head. “Sorry, boss.”
I roll my head, trying and failing to ease the stiffness in my neck. It feels like I’ve been staring at these reports forever. When was the last time I left this office?
The fact that I genuinely can’t remember probably isn’t a good sign, but empires aren’t built by the weak, and I’ve built an empire. In spite of the armies of judgmental assholes out there trying to stop me.
I glare at him, and he doesn’t flinch. “Anyone would think we were luring small children in here and feeding them directly to Satan. How is this prick justifying revoking permits we’ve had for months?”
I always told myself I’d stop opening new clubs when I got to twenty. Twenty clubs, that is. I was twenty at the time, and maybe a little arrogant. The Regina is going to be my twentieth club, in the small but thriving city of Bison Plains. At least, that was the plan.
“The city planner says the zoning requirements were recently changed, and there’ll be a fee to reinstate the permits.”
I raise an eyebrow at him. The corner of his mouth quirks, and he shakes his head. “The zoning requirements haven’t changed. I went back through the city council meeting minutes for the last six months.”
“So it’s a shakedown.”
“It’s a shakedown,” he agrees.
I shake my head. Whoever this guy is, he must have been living under a rock if he thinks he can get away with shaking down Gibson Hall. The last guy who tried it ended up in jail for fraud, and I still got my club. Lapins, club #17.
Just because people don’t like having a nightclub with an attached sex club doesn’t mean they won’t go, something I already knew but was pretty impressed about the first time I saw it in action. A local citizens group got their panties in a bunch over Maraschino, the first Black Cherry venue, but the night we opened, half their members were in there, getting their rocks off in all kinds of creative ways, including the uptight head of the group.
Karen Holdengrass had needed orgasms in the worst way.
My mind drifts to another woman who needed orgasms, and unlike Karen, I had found myself attracted to the woman herself, not just the play.
McKenna, no last name provided. She exploded so sweetly in my arms, so shocked to find so much pleasure in my touch, my restraint of her hands…I shift in my chair, my cock suddenly hard just from thinking about her.
“Sir?”
Declan’s voice yanks me back to the present time, which is probably a good thing. I don’t need to start brooding over how McKenna took her pleasure and then ran like I was the Devil himself.
I flick my fingers in dismissal of the terminally stupid city planner. “Give him the rope. Then hang him.”
Declan nods, but doesn’t leave.
“Was there something else?”
“You need a vacation.”
I snort, pleased that he has the guts to say so, but well aware I can’t take time off. Not now. Not when I’m so close to my dream. I manage not to look at the photo on my desk, but it takes every ounce of self-control I possess.
“I’ll take a break when the Regina opens.”
“You said that about the Celeste,” he points out.
The Celeste was #13. No, wait. #11. The Garnet was #13. Whatever. “We were just getting started,” I reply, a slight exaggeration but whatever.
“You also said it about the Cristalina, the Black Star, the Satin, the Sonata, the—”
“Okay,” I snarl. “I get your point. After the Regina, there won’t be any more new clubs. Twenty locations, twenty Black Cherry venues. That’s all I want. Once the Regina opens, I’m done.”
He looks down at his tablet, then back up at me and raises an eyebrow. I narrow my eyes at him. “What now?”
“Christian Hughes is on the line to speak with you. Apparently you were supposed to call him.”
I grimace. There’s so much on my plate these days, and it’s all urgent. Things slip through the cracks. Worst of all, I’m losing interest in the whole thing, and that’s dangerous for a man in my position. There are people out there whose livelihoods depend on me maintaining my passion for my work. Which is why I spoke to Hughes in the first place. I have an idea that might help, and he seems perfectly positioned to make it happen.
“Remind me next time.”
“I did. Three times.”
I glare at him, but he just gives me an unrepentant smirk. “Put him through.”
Declan taps his tablet, and my phone rings. The next time I look up, my assistant is gone.
“Hall,” I snap into the phone.
“You are a difficult man to get hold of, Mr. Hall.” Christian Hughes is honest, compassionate, and genuinely listens. Basically, he’s the exact opposite of every real estate developer you’ve ever met, which is why he’s my go to real estate developer. We grew up on opposite sides of the tracks, and over the years, as I migrated to the very top of the social hierarchy, he’s one of the few people who never looked down on me for my humble beginnings.
“Yeah, I’ve been busy.”
“Haven’t we all?”
He also isn’t a brownnoser, which makes a refreshing change for someone with my net worth.
“I’m sorry. You’ve got me now. How can I help?”
“You came to me with a proposal,” he says, and I can hear his smile. “I think I’ve found you a location.”
I lean forward, struggling to keep the elation out of my voice. “Where?”
“Montana. Almost in the middle of nowhere. It’s about fifteen miles out of a little town
called Valentine Lake.”
I scribble down the details and call Declan on the intercom, telling him to book me a flight and accommodation.
“Don’t worry about accommodation,” says Christian. “I’ve got a ranch in the area. Bunny and I were planning on taking a little vacation there anyway. She’s actually already out there with a friend. There’s plenty of room for another guest.”
I scowl at the phone, glad we’re not talking on video. Bunny is...not my favorite person.
“I wouldn’t want to intrude on your family time,” I tell him, trying to extract myself from what could be an awkward situation.
“Nonsense,” he says. “There’s plenty of room. I won’t take no for an answer.”
I resign myself to my fate, finally allowing myself to look at Mom’s photo on my desk. For her, the memory of her, what she inspired me to build, I’ll suck it up. I’ll just have to make sure the door to my bedroom is locked, and leave the key in it. Christian is as successful as an ethical real estate developer can be, which is to say he’s a multimillionaire, but will probably never be a billionaire. Bunny has an eye to improve her station and doesn’t seem to understand the word ‘no’. I can only hope another billionaire will come along at some point and distract her from me, but for now, it seems there’s no way out.
Seven hours later, I’m in a rental car, heading towards the Hughes’ place along country roads surrounded by greenery and gorgeous trees, mostly cherry trees of different varieties. It’s late in the year for cherry blossom, but a lot of the trees I see are flowering. I have to take my hat off to the farmer, whoever he is. The whole image is gorgeous.
I’ve always had a real appreciation for cherries. They were Mom’s favorite, which is why my first club was called Maraschino. I just stuck with the theme. Funnily enough, McKenna was the first person to even ask about it. I don’t know why I answered her, either. Maybe I was just caught up in the moment, to the point where, five years later, I still remember her name, and how she felt against me, lost in her passion.
Eat Your Heart Out: A Romance Charity Anthology Page 28