by Nikki Sloane
“You’re new,” she said, running a hand through the strands of her wavy brown hair. “We haven’t seen you before.”
“We?”
She giggled and flicked a finger toward a man standing nearby. “Me and my boyfriend. He’s cute, right?”
Uh . . .
He looked like he was the same age as my dad. The guy had his hands in his pants pockets and a lewd smile plastered on his face, like he’d sent his girlfriend over to warm me up. I squeezed out a polite smile, but my tone was cool. “Sure, he looks nice.”
She was about to wave him over when Clay reappeared, and a scowl formed on his lips when he saw the woman at my side.
“No, thank you.” His tone was gruff. “We’re not interested.”
Her mouth dropped open, her lipstick forming a perfectly red oval, but she didn’t say anything. Instead, she got up in a huff and scurried away with her boyfriend in tow.
“That was kind of rude,” I told him when she was gone and he’d returned to his seat across from me.
“Was it?” His expression was plain. “You think it would have been better to make polite conversation for the next half-hour and waste everyone’s time? Or were you interested in either of them?”
“No,” I said. “But you were really direct.”
He looked at me like I was being naïve. “I’ve come here long enough to know that’s the only thing those two understand. If you’re not clear, they think they have a chance. You’re so far out of their league, I’m a little offended they tried, and a lot offended with how they waited until I wasn’t around to do it.”
“Well, they’re gone now. You’ve successfully run them off.” I gave him a lopsided smile. “Where were we?”
“We were going to talk about how this is going to work.”
My smile hung. “Talk?”
He flashed an amused look, like he found derailing me entertaining, but then he turned serious. He leaned forward and took my hand. It was the first time he’d touched me where I didn’t feel any motive behind it, other than he just wanted a connection.
“I’d like a relationship with you.”
“Okay,” I said before realizing he wasn’t finished.
“Our relationship isn’t going to be like what you’re used to.” He studied the way he played with my fingers, as if fascinated by them. “And it might not be long before you realize it’s not enough for you. I can give you a lot of things you’ll like.” His gaze had been focused on his fingertips tracing my hand, but it snapped to mine. “Pleasure. Pain. Even euphoria. I can show you how good you are at things you don’t realize you’re capable of. But I know my limits, Lilith.”
His fingers urged mine apart so he could lace our hands together.
“We’ll trust each other and enjoy being together. And I’ll care for you, but . . . I won’t fall in love. It’s not something I do. So, if that’s your end goal,” sadness hinted at the edges of his eyes, “we might as well stop now.”
I filled my lungs with air as I considered what he’d said and how to respond.
“It’s not my goal,” I said softly. His discerning gaze tightened like he didn’t believe me, but I squeezed his hand. “Look, I’ve never fallen in love, and honestly? I don’t plan on doing it—at least not anytime soon.”
Once again, I caught him off guard, and he struggled with how to regroup.
“So,” I continued, “if you want a relationship that’s just sex and kink . . . I’m game.”
“It’s more than just that,” he said.
I gave him a sinful smile. “I’m sure you’ll show me, then.”
Clay’s surprised reaction told me he didn’t think I’d accept his offer, and pleasure seeped into his expression. “If your goals change, or you start to develop feelings, you have to be upfront with me.”
“Fair enough. Same for you.”
He looked at me like I’d just told him the sky was green. Him developing feelings for me wasn’t a possibility as far as he was concerned, but he humored me anyway. “Yes.”
With that settled, he began to relax and return to the man he’d been earlier when he’d told me to get on my knees.
“So, now that you know my limits,” he smoothed a hand down the line of buttons on his shirt, “what are yours?”
It felt oddly like negotiations, and I considered some glib answer, but in the end, I went with the honest one. “I’m not sure.”
It was as if he’d hoped I’d say that, because a smile widened on his lips. “I have an idea. Something we can test and see if it’s a limit for you.”
“Oh? What is it?”
He let go of my hands so he could cup my cheek and draw my ear close to his mouth. Like it was important, and he didn’t want me to miss a word. His voice was low and devious, sliding into me like a hot knife through butter. “Ask the next man who walks by if he wants to taste your pussy.”
Whoa.
“What?” I jolted back from him, and my eyes went wide. “What if he says yes?”
There weren’t words to describe how Clay stared at me. If there were, I wouldn’t be able to find them, because I flash-boiled and everything inside me became steam. His eyes were lidded with desire.
He likes to watch.
His shoulders rose with his uneven breath. “Would that be a limit for you?”
The steam fogged around in my head, and I blinked my eyes rapidly, trying to get it to disperse. Was it a limit? Could I let a total stranger go down on me while Clay watched?
The depraved part of me hungered to find out. A runaway freight train had replaced my heart, barreling out of control, chugging away at a million miles an hour.
He’d asked if this was a limit, but I’d been waiting for him naked in his house this afternoon. He knew what my answer would be.
I subtly shook my head. “It’s not a limit.”
Excitement crackled in his eyes before his gaze turned toward the room, surveying the crop to see who’d be the lucky man.
Hyperawareness traveled up my back like faint pinpricks. My body sensed what was happening, while the rest of me struggled to catch up. Had I subconsciously willed this into existence?
No, I realized. This was too perfect to be anything other than designed.
At some point, the man in the gray suit had come into this room. Now he stalked toward us, and his intense gaze was fixed on me.
EIGHT
All the sound in the room faded out, and my heart leapt up to my throat, cutting off my airway.
The man in the gray suit moved deliberately and with focus, ignoring the groups of writhing bodies scattered around the space. There was an easy swagger to him as he walked. If Clay was a man drawn with sharp angles and precise measurements, this guy was beautifully sketched by freehand.
I dry-swallowed. As he approached, so did the moment I’d have to speak to him. I wanted to—part of the fun was the challenge of it—but that didn’t mean I wasn’t nervous. What if my question, like, offended him?
And what if he said no?
He reached the end of the couch, stopping a respectable distance away from us, which meant I couldn’t whisper my question. I’d have to say it loud enough for him to hear me over the swelling noise of the room.
It wasn’t just music and conversations in here now. There were throaty moans. Cracks of palms against asses. Steady thumps of hips beating against hips.
The man didn’t notice or care. He was focused only on me.
I opened my mouth to speak, but when the words didn’t come, the guy cocked his head, puzzled.
His voice was deep and hushed. “You have a question for me?”
I knew it. Clay was an architect. He made his living by planning and designing, and that extended into the other areas of his life. I glanced at him, but his expression was fixed. I’d have to ask him later how he’d accomplished this, but I suspected it’d happened when he’d stepped away to use the restroom.
“Yes,” I said, “I have a question.” I was grateful it came out confident and clear.
And why shouldn’t I be? I wanted this. Even if nothing came of my offer, just making it to a complete stranger was wild and exhilarating. I uncrossed my legs and pressed the front of my skirt down in the hollow I’d created between my knees, my hands curled around the hem.
He peered at me expectantly as I took in a preparing breath.
“Do you want,” I said, “to taste my pussy?”
Disbelief knocked him back a half-step, and as soon as he finished processing the question, his attention snapped to Clay. Was it to check with him if this was all right? To see if my date would allow it? The two men exchanged a long look, and God, what I would have given to understand their wordless conversation.
But I didn’t.
Satisfied, the man’s focus swung back to me and swept downward, taking in my outfit, my legs, my heels . . . A slow, wicked grin spread across his face. It made me smolder, but then the word he uttered? It set me on fucking fire.
“Sure,” he said.
Oh, my God.
My pulse went erratic when he stepped into the space between the couch and the ottoman I was sitting on, blocking my view of Clay. I stopped breathing altogether when he knelt on the floor between my parted legs, bringing him perfectly into my eyeline.
Time suspended as this handsome stranger stared at me. Did he see the same curiosity he had reflected in my eyes? I was fascinated by who he was to Clay and what he’d been told about tonight. There weren’t answers in his eyes, though, only more questions.
His gaze drifted down and came to a stop on my hands holding my skirt in place. “Can I touch you?”
It was the same question Clay had asked me earlier, and the flashback to the ruler striking my skin was unavoidable. I shuddered with a pleasurable aftershock, but hopefully the man didn’t notice.
I pressed my lips together and nodded, too anxious to speak, because I worried what might come out. This whole night had been intoxicating and obliterated what few inhibitions I had. If I wasn’t careful, I might tell this stranger he could fuck me.
The man’s palms were warm when he gently set them on my knees, but they didn’t stay there. Up his hands went, sliding along the tops of my thighs, and showers of goosebumps burst across my legs as he pushed back my skirt.
I had to force air in and out of my body, making my corset heave. Then I put my hands down behind me on the ottoman and leaned back, making room for him. Over his shoulder, Clay was there, supervising us with a hungry look.
The man reached my hips, and he rested his hands on them, hesitating. He searched my eyes, confirming I was comfortable with him going further, so I gave him a tiny nod, then lifted my hips to make it easier for him to peel my underwear down.
When he bent to push my thong past my ankles and shoes, Clay’s expression filled with power. “You’ll watch me while he does it. Understand?”
Oh, God. The idea was scorching hot. I bit the inside of my cheek to stay quiet and gave another quick nod.
The man in the gray suit didn’t have any objections or comments about Clay’s command. Instead, he discarded my panties on the ottoman beside me, slid his palms up the insides of my thighs, and pressed me shockingly open, revealing my bareness to him, and everyone else in the room.
“Fuck,” I uttered under my hurried breath. Anticipation turned me into a livewire. I was supposed to watch Clay while it happened, but my gaze bounced between the two men as the stranger dropped his shoulders and slowly lowered his mouth to me.
“Oh, fuck,” I repeated as his lips made contact.
The faintest brush of his mouth over my clit caused my legs to tremble. His warm hands gripped the insides of my thighs, and I stared at Clay through my lust-hazed eyes. It was impossible to catch my breath.
There should have been a voice in the back of my head telling me this behavior was wrong. That I wasn’t supposed to let a stranger fuck me with his tongue while my brand-new boyfriend watched.
Boyfriend?
Was that the right label to use for Clay? Partner was a better fit.
The voice that was supposed to make me feel shame was silent tonight, blotted out by the inferno burning inside me from this erotic act. Or maybe Clay had deactivated that part of me earlier when he’d wielded his ruler.
The man’s tongue was velvet as it slid across my damp skin. Shit, that felt amazing. It rolled over my clit, spinning circles of bliss that clouded my vision. I was breathing so hard, I became lightheaded, and I had to press a hand to the center of my corset, leaving myself propped up by one precariously shaky arm.
I gasped with pleasure as the man’s grip on me tightened and the tip of his tongue fluttered.
And while he was physically pleasing me, the expression that hung on Clay’s face announced the stranger was currently satisfying us both. He enjoyed the way I trembled as his friend’s lips sealed around my clit and sucked. He drank up my moans like his favorite brand of liquor, savoring each gasp and whimper.
“Does it feel good?” he murmured.
I was sure I was going rattle apart, or my supporting arm was going to give out, or I would come without warning while Clay watched me through his sexy, serious glasses. So, it was hard to speak, and I had to concentrate to get the word out. “Yes.”
His hand had been resting on his thigh, and although the move he made was subtle, I didn’t miss how it turned slightly inward and tension filled his fingers as he squeezed. He wasn’t going to touch himself when all these people were around, but oh, how he wanted to.
Watching me with his friend’s head between my legs turned him on, and the thick line of his cock pressed against the inseam of his pants.
I wanted to understand him better, but the stranger’s mouth was distracting, pulling my thoughts in a million directions. I gave a loud moan when the man used his thumbs to peel me apart and focus on the spot that would bring me the most pleasure.
“You like this.” It wasn’t a question from Clay—it was a statement of fact. “You like how everyone’s watching.”
Were they? On some level, I sensed there were eyes on me, but I hadn’t glanced around to check. My gaze never deviated from Clay’s, because he’d given me instructions, and I was determined to follow them.
But nerves made my voice go uneven. “I like,” I rasped, “how you’re watching.”
I had nothing to be nervous about because my confession earned me the biggest grin I’d seen yet from him. If I’d had any air left in my lungs, his gorgeous smile would have taken it all.
The man’s tongue created a flurry of sensations, and it felt way, way too good. How long was this ‘taste’ supposed to last? His mouth was heaven, so I wanted him to keep going, but I worried he’d stop right as I got to the edge.
“I bet he wants to fuck you,” Clay said. “He hasn’t been able to take his eyes off you all night.”
The man’s tongue hesitated for a fraction of a second. Was he going to deny it? Or was it the idea of fucking me had short-circuited his brain like it had mine? No protest came from the man, and when he resumed moving, the strokes of his tongue were more deliberate and needy. He pushed one of my legs up onto the ottoman, forcing me to fall back onto my elbow.
It was better and so much worse like this, because now both men were in my line of sight. I could see the man as his pink tongue slicked over me, and Clay behind him. My partner looked down on us like a lion watching his offspring feast on its first kill.
My moans competed with the sounds of pleasure in the room, and we weren’t in the club anymore. The space had transformed into a pit of hedonism. It was full of naked bodies that thrashed and writhed and clawed at each other for release.
Clay’s voice rose over the growl of the sex surrounding us. “You told me you wanted to fuck while other people watched. Do you want him to do it?”
The man’s eyes had been closed, but they blink
ed open, and when his gaze connected with mine, it had to mirror my surprise. But beneath his shock, I saw through to the truth. I didn’t know a thing about him . . . other than he wanted me to say yes.
It wasn’t like I’d never had a one-night-stand before. I’d gone home from the bars with a poor decision more than once when I was in college, and sometimes I slept with a guy on the first date, knowing it wasn’t going anywhere and I’d ghost him in the morning. I liked sex—like, a lot—and finding a partner wasn’t hard. But finding someone I wanted to hang out with long-term? That was much more of a challenge. Once the newness of them wore off, so did my interest.
So, if I let this guy fuck me, it would be an extreme one-night-stand. We didn’t know each other’s names and had barely spoken. Right now, the only thing we had in common was the man watching us from the couch.
That’s not true.
You want to say yes to this as badly as this stranger wants you to.
It was wild and reckless, but when had I let that stop me before? Was this really worse than getting naked and ambushing Clay in his house?
I panted for air, needing to build up energy to speak, but I didn’t get the chance. Clay sat forward, rested his elbows on his knees, and delivered a look so sexual it was indecent.
“If you don’t want him, then don’t come.” He said it like it was simple. “You’ll tell him ‘thank you,’ and he’ll know this is over and he should go back downstairs.” Behind his glasses, his eyes blinked slowly. Whatever he was about to say was so appealing to him, it was difficult to get the words out. Desire choked his voice. “Or he uses his tongue to give you an orgasm, and then he gets to try for another one using his cock.”
My shoulders shuddered as I exhaled a sharp breath. The concept was so powerful, I melted and collapsed flat on my back. As I lay on the leather, the stitching on the center seams rough against one of my shoulder blades, the man kneeling between my legs froze in place.