by Jamie Knight
I twist my mouth to the side. I’m not surprised, but this conversation makes me uncomfortable, too.
“But I also know that you want to help people and that’s why I love you,” he continues.
I smile. I always smile when he says that to me.
“You may have grown up rich, Savannah, and I’ve realized I can’t fault you for that because you are a good person making your own way in life. I respect your strength because you’ve gone through a lot and you’re amazing.”
I wasn’t expecting the two of us to get so serious so quickly, but I’m so happy that I’m with a man who accepts my ambitions and dreams. I’d honestly thought I would never meet someone who takes me and what I want seriously.
There’s a knock at the door and I get up to answer it. It’s our next bottle of champagne. I take it from the hotel employee, thanking him and giving him a tip. I bring the bottle inside and put it down between Robert and me.
“Do you want to go and check out the hot tub?” I ask him, giving him my best sultry smile.
I want to get back to playful Robert. It’s our honeymoon and I’m here to have fun.
“Should I get my swim trunks?” he asks.
I shake my head. His eyebrow perks up and I think he catches my drift. Hurriedly, we take off our clothes and we run over to the hot tub on our private patio. I turn it on to get the bubbles going. The two of us slip into the warm water on opposite ends of the tub.
I make my way over to Robert and take a seat on his lap. I feel his erection against my belly and pick my body up a little bit, so I can position my entrance right at the head of his cock. I slide down his shaft, feeling him fill me up. I wrap my arms around him to keep myself up while I sink down on him until he’s buried in me right up to the hilt.
“Robert?”
“Mmm…”
His head is thrown back and my eyes are closed. I move one of my hands from behind his neck and run my finger down his cheek. He’s just so handsome and, ever since we got together, he’s only gotten better looking.
“I love you,” I tell him.
He opens his eyes and looks at me. Then he kisses me.
“I love you, too.”
He puts his hands on my hips and uses them to move me up and down. The movements start slowly, and I can feel every inch of him. I bite my lip, not wanting to get too lost in him too quickly. He starts to move me faster and faster, until his dick is thrusting in and out of my body.
“Touch yourself,” he commands.
I move my hand down my body until I reach my clit. I make quick and dirty circles, trying to match Robert’s pace. It all feels so good and I can’t keep it inside any longer.
I don’t even know what I’m saying; I just know that it all feels amazing. My body tingles and the water sloshing around us further stimulates me.
“Oh, fuck, Robert. I’m close. Don’t stop, don’t stop!” I tell him.
He starts to bring his pelvis up to meet mine, his balls slapping into me. I feel my stomach become knots and my body gets warm all over. I know I’m about to come.
I bring my mouth down on Robert’s and I bite his bottom lip right before all my senses explode around me. I moan into his mouth, grinding my pelvis down to ride out this wave.
Robert lets out a long line of expletives and I feel his cum spill into me. We’re holding on to one another tightly as we both fall off the edge together. My body calms down and it subsides into small twitches.
I rest my head on Robert’s shoulder as I catch my breath. Robert pats my hair and kisses the side of my face.
“You’re sensational,” he tells me.
“So are you,” I respond.
We stay like this for a few minutes before we untangle our limbs. I sit down next to Robert in the hot tub. We hold hands under the water, and I lean my body against my husband’s. We don’t really talk, but rather we just sit there and enjoy one another’s company.
I can’t wait to show him the rest of the island. We both really deserved an entire break from the world. The start of our relationship was bumpy and then things just got bumpier from there.
But we got through it and look where we are now: happy and together.
Soon, we’ll go back home and be a happily married couple, and two future doctors. I don’t think there’s anything that can stop us now, but, if something does pop up, I know we can take care of it together. After becoming fake spouses, we can do anything for real.
THE END
Masking His Virgin
Club Lush Book 4
Copyright © 2019
Jamie Knight –
Your Dirty Little Secret Romance Author
All rights reserved.
Chapter One - Karen
It all started as a celebration. A party for one of my best friends at NYU, Melissa. It’s her twenty-first birthday — a milestone I hit a few months before. So far, the night has proven to be unusual. We’ve gone from one dance club to what appears to be a sex club, Club Lush. A place we shouldn’t be, but we are and now I want to experience all of it…to the fullest.
Seated on the other side of Shay, my roommate, as I am, in a booth near the dance floor, I’m anxious already. I run my hand down the side of my head feeling the wisps of my pixy cut, my short, bright red hair. Ever since we set foot in this sexy club, I’ve wanted to get going, get exploring, and lose my virginity to some hot, wealthy guy.
While I would rather be doing anything else other than sitting here with my friends, waiting for Miss nineteen forties Blond Bombshell — who says she is the owner, Lady White — to finish talking to us, I can at least take comfort in knowing I look like I belong here. Unlike the rest of my girlfriends, I bothered to get my hair styled and colored on the off chance that we’d actually party. I’m also wearing dark and revealing clothes. A skirt and cropped top made of see-through black nylon-like fabric, edged in baby-pink satin, and decorated in sequins.
We’re supposed to be here celebrating her birthday, but it looks like Melissa is going to ditch us. I just know it. She is too shy for anything fun like this. In the time that it’s taken me to pull a tube of lip gloss from my clutch, that’s enough time for Melissa to do just as I’ve guessed she would — run the hell away. There she goes. And just as that woman’s starting to explain the rules of the club.
I roll my eyes at Shea, putting the lip glass on and puckering my lips together. “Looks like we’ve got a runner.”
“Looks like it,” Shea whispers back, trying not to distract from what’s going on around the table. Namely the fact that Bombshell has introduced herself as Lady White, owner and proprietor of the club we find ourselves in. She’s just told us that we should participate actively tonight if we wish to stay.
Since we arrived, I’ve had my eye on the various walls and stages displaying people in various states of bondage and ecstasy. I have every intention of experiencing something new and interesting here. Being a creative person, a painter, I’ve developed a taste for the unique and the uncanny. My love of art is something I got from my parents who are both successful painters. Because of them I go seeking new and wonderful experiences. I want the loss of my virginity to go the same way. I also want to soak up as much of this “scene” as I can, so I have something to take back with me and immortalize on a canvas.
Violently disturbing my fantasies — my plans for my one and only night in someplace so wild — my thoughts are interrupted by Britney and her noobish question. “What kind of activities?” She pauses, then adds, “Sexual, obviously, but what exactly do we have to participate in?”
“You could be someone’s pet,” answers Lady White. “You could be someone’s toy.” She pauses, gesturing to an area where people are strapped to walls, and there are tables full of gadgets waiting to be used on them. “You could even be someone’s prisoner, if that kind of thing suits you. Either way, you will be required to serve and submit to the club members already present, until you become members, or you show yourselves to be compe
tent in more dominant roles.”
Britney looks as though she’s finally got more answers than questions and some risk she wants to take, some theory she wants to test — she’s that kind of girl. An odd mix of stylish, and bookish. Dark brown hair looking like it’s something out of a seventies cartoon, and boxy, trendy glasses, she’s someone I don’t hang out with a lot. I would love to paint her sometime, but I like to do nudes, and she hasn’t taken me up on my offer. “I see,” she says, “I think I have some ideas now.”
It seems everyone else does as well, because, the moment Lady White wonders away from our booth, after wishing us good luck for us ourselves and our evening, we all immediately disperse. Becky goes off into the crowd somewhere. Samantha heads straight for the bar nearby, and I immediately get up to go look more closely at the dungeon walls and stages.
At least, that’s what I think I’m going to go do, until Shay grabs my arm like a fucking life raft. She acts like she and everyone else is going to drown without me. “Karen! Stay here!” She implores me, before looking at the rest of the girls with just as much fear and anxiety. “Remember the buddy system, ladies! Pair off and stick together! Don’t get separated unless you know what each other is up to, or who they’re going with!”
I don’t even need to see inside her head to know the kind of catastrophizing she’s doing. After being her roommate for nearly two years, I know what goes on in that dark, anxious head of hers.
“Would you relax?” I say, sticking my lip gloss back in my clutch and freeing my other wrist from her death grip. “If you want to be a mother, go join the Girl Scouts. This is a sex club, and I want to have fun. You should too.” I squint at her, hoping she knows I mean it. “You would if you didn’t try to control everything.” With that, I get up and wander across the dance floor toward my objects of interest.
I study the stages and walls, and the people being strapped (or already strapped) to them, beginning to be pleasured and dominated by their partners. Indeed, there are black, velvet trimmed carts near the center of every stage, the edge of every wall, stuffed full of various toys, clips, and gadgets designed to inflict exquisite pleasure and pain.
My excitement increases the more I look at and study everything. It’s not just pleasing on a sexual level; my artistic side is hard and happy as well. She drinks in every detail, every shimmer and shine of cuffs, chains, nipple clips, high-end vibrators and dark, edgy whips. Everything that comes under my eyes, I commit it to memory. I absorb it, allowing my pussy to warm and clench. I imagine the paints I am going to be splashing across the canvas.
I continue my tour of everything on the stages and the decorated walls, enjoying the way the rainbow lights ripple and shine off of everything. People writhe and gasp in and out of masks, and from behind ball gags. I want to commit their faces to memory as well. Their looks of ecstasy, the way their bodies are tight and loose against the restraints. I lick my lips, wondering just how these faces and bodies are going to change when they release. When they get all the pleasure they came for.
I wonder how I’m going to change — how my art is growing to grow and develop — once I lose my virginity. I squirm happily, watching someone get strapped up to a sex machine. I’ve heard sex changes a lot of things. I wonder if it will change my art. I wonder if I’ll finally exceed my parents as a painter. If I’ll finally show them that a lust for life is just as good for the muse as anything else.
Chapter Two - Ambrose
If the men and women below could see the view I have on them, if they knew about the suite I have above the heart of my sister’s club, Club Lush, they might storm it. They might use it as their new, exciting sex room for voyeurism or exhibitionism. And they might have more pleasure in it that I’ve ever had, but they are visitors to my world. I’m the king of it, and I’m exhausted and bored with it all.
Yes, I’ve tasted and taken pleasure from many a woman over my years of co-owning and helping run this club. I’ve enjoyed playing with all of them, especially the virgins, regardless of color, age or experience with BDSM. I’ve enjoyed pushing them to their limits, those virgins, and watching them break. Watching them give themselves over to mind-numbing, soul-shattering pleasure, and trapping that image in my mind.
While other billionaires might think about keeping a few pets for play, I never do. After taking their virginity, I don’t want anything more from them. Their company, their faces or voices are all forgettable. I don’t want any of it. I just want something new.
I wander to the window, the biggest one in my sweet, and look down at the dance floor. Through a slight part I’ve made in the window-length curtain, I spy my sister, Lady White, making her usual introduction to a new table of guests. All women. I’m not immediately attracted to any one of them. They all look like they don’t belong in a sex club and wouldn’t know the first thing about the kind of men who prowl this place. I frown, watching as my sister gives her regular spiel. Though I can’t hear anything from where I am, I can read her lips. I’ve heard it so many times. I used to join her in welcoming new guests, until I got bored of it — like I do with everything.
“Participate or get kicked out of the club,” that’s a rule of ours I used to take to heart. I used to enforce that rule with any and every woman I would bed, because I liked and needed that amount of control. But now, as I sit watching my sister smile and give the new guests suggestions, I know it should apply to me. I haven’t wanted or needed to participate in any nightly activities for a while. I’ve become bored, and yet I’m still allowed to inhabit this club of ours.
One of the perks of being Lady White’s big brother, I think closing the curtain on everything. I’ve already looked down on those women, studied them, and none interested me, so why keep looking at what I’m not hungry for?
From the window, I retreat to my collection of fine alcohols and the cups to serve them in. I’m going to drink myself into a state of being entertained by everything. Or I was…until I hear light, feminine footsteps coming up the stairs — the slightly concealed stairs — to my suite.
My sister. I know it’s her coming to flush me out of my hiding space, my tower over everything. Despite not thinking I was spotted; she probably did see the curtains move. She always does, no matter what mood I’m in.
I shove my alcohol and cups away, deciding to save that for after she leaves. It’s just in time, too. The moment I put everything back, my sister enters my sweet. She does so without knocking, and without apologizing for inviting herself up. Being part owner, she owns half my space, no matter what ownership I have elsewhere.
“Brooding by yourself again tonight, dear brother?” she asks, shutting the door quietly behind her. “You really shouldn’t. A group of fresh, unsuspecting women have just ended our little club. They’ve come here on a lark it seems, by pure chance.” I turn to face her, already seeing the smile on her perfect red lips and the shine in her classically painted eyes. “I know you like virgins. I know you like a woman you can dominate and push to her limits.” She gives me a sly, business-as-usual smile. “Out of the six beauties out there, I’m sure you can find at least one to catch your fancy and get you out of this mood.”
I shrug and turn my back on her. “Not interested,” I say. “If you’re so interested in them, why don’t you find one to play with, Amelia?”
My sister just smiles smoothly. “I’d encourage you to look again, dear brother, before you throw them all out with the bathwater.”
A certain amount of mischief and electricity in her expression gets me to take the bait. Against my better judgment, I make my way back over to the big window, and pull aside the long, billowy curtains just enough to see out of, but not enough for anyone else to see me.
“There might just be the perfect little flower for your discriminating taste,” she continues.
As if my sister is working some strange magic on me or this situation, right as she says I might just find my perfect flower, I spot a young woman who immediately grabs my at
tention. Against all of my self-proclaimed disinterest, her short, bright red hair snatches my gaze. Her entranced, lusty expression captures me after. She’s busy exploring every stage and every wall with individuals being chained and dominated.
The way her scrutinizing gaze passes over everything; I can tell she’s happy to be here. I can also tell she’s a virgin. Only virgins look with that much intensity (like their eye-fucking their surroundings) and have that much color and heat on their bodies. If I were to get a peek under her nylon-black and silky pink skirt and blouse combo, I bet my first million I’d see hard, happy nipples. I feel a wet, hot pussy. One I could do whatever I wanted with.
Already, I’m beginning to feel hard. I keep myself facing the window to keep my sister from noticing that something has indeed, caught my interest.
Behind me, she is giving me the regular spiel. The one she whips out for me every time I’m not up for participating. “You know the rules, Ambrose,” she says. “One must participate, give themselves over to some activity to still remain in the club.” I can feel her smiling. I can hear her swishing up to me. “I might have to have that apply to you, dear brother, if you don’t find anything that speaks to you.”
I hold up my hand to keep her from advancing any closer. “So, you say every time, Amelia,” I snap, trying to keep her away from me and away from the part of the window I’m still looking at my virginal redhead through. “You give me this spiel every time. Every night.”
“If you’re tired of hearing it, perhaps you would do well to heed its advice?” Without even needing to turn around, I can see the way she’s fluffing out her blond curls, the way she’s running her fingers across her cheeks, checking for cracks in her makeup.
“Let me be,” I say, hoping she takes the hint. “You’ve got a business to run, sister. Not family members to nag. Get to it.”