Invitation to Passion: Open Invitation, Book 3 (8 page)

 
    
He’d given her the most extraordinary
orgasms. How he’d managed to make the sex better than it had been with two men
was beyond her, but he’d demonstrated he was an imaginative lover who focused
on his partner’s pleasure. Knowing he’d come without even being inside her was
a huge boon. He’d said she’d sleep like a baby, and she had. She just hadn’t
intended to do it with his body wrapped around her. That was more like
something monogamists did. And as much as she loved bringing people together,
exclusivity was for
other
people.

 
    
She eased from his grasp, sliding across
the big bed to the edge. He grabbed her hand before she could slip away.

 
    
“Where are you going?”

 
    
“Home. What time is it?”

 
    
He glanced at his watch. “Three a.m.”

 
    
It wasn’t dawn, at least. That felt a
little better. What didn’t feel good was that she’d woken in his arms and
actually liked it. She needed more of him. She never
needed
more from a man. The thought unsettled her. It sounded like
dependency.

 
    
He smiled, a lazy, sleepy, yet wholly sexy
smile. “Get back in bed.” He tugged on her arm.

 
    
“No. I’m leaving.”

 
    
He propped himself up on his elbow, nothing
sleepy or lazy in his gaze now. “Why?”

 
    
“Because I feel like it.”

 
    
“I can make you feel something better.”

 
    
“You already made me feel quite a lot of
things, and that’s enough for tonight.” Irritation sparked through her words.

 
    
He stroked her hands. “What’s wrong,
sweetheart?”

 
    
Sweetheart? What’s up with that? They’d had
great sex, but they weren’t sweethearts. “I don’t want anything serious, Jud.
We’ve got a nice little challenge going here, and you definitely won both
rounds last night, but don’t spoil it by making it more than it is.”

 
    
He let go of her and rolled to his back,
stacking his hands beneath his head. “You have no idea what
it
is. But believe me, I’ll get a lot of
pleasure out of showing you.”

 
    
With yet another subtle, enigmatic remark,
he was trying to entice her back to him. She was made of stronger stuff. “Not
now, thanks.”

 
    
Keeping her eyes on him as if he were a
lion that wanted her for breakfast, she backed down the
riser
.
The sheet lay at his waist, exposing the gorgeous pelt of hair on his chest. It
tapered to a neat arrow pointing to his erection outlined by the cotton. As she
watched, a bead of come soaked through.

 
    
She salivated, wanting a taste of him.
Wanted to climb right back in that bed and have at him. Then she raised her
gaze to the smug slant of his eyes and the knowing crease of his mouth. The
cocky bastard knew exactly what he was doing to her. And she wasn’t about to
let him win this time.

 
    
The very thought relegated the situation to
its proper place. A challenge. He’d won with the orgasm challenge, but she’d
win this one. She was not getting back in that bed.

 
    
She grabbed her thong, put it on inside out
and had to start all over again. Then she stepped into her dress, zipped it,
and righted her shoes, which were at the foot of the bed. She found her small
clutch purse containing the essentials on the coffee table.

 
    
“Don’t forget, sweetheart. Since I won, you’re
mine.”

 
    
“I never welch on a bet.” She arched her
eyebrow as cockily as he grinned. “But you’re going to have work much harder
next time.”

 
    
He pushed the sheet aside and stroked his
very hard cock from base to tip, then began a leisurely pump. “Believe me, hard
won’t be a problem.”

* * * * *

 
    
She hadn’t balked when he said she was his.
That was certainly a step in the right direction. Of course, he’d had the
notion that he’d be spending the rest of the night and most of Sunday making
love to her until she couldn’t remember her own name, but he was an optimist.
There was always next time.

 
    
Jud pumped his cock, closed his eyes, and
imagined Stacy’s elegant lips sucking him off. Her eyes had darkened, her
nipples peaked beneath the material of her dress, and she’d swallowed like a
woman dying of thirst. For his come.

 
    
He’d gotten under her skin, and she
wouldn’t be able to resist coming back, bet or no bet. It was just a matter of
when.

 
    
Release came as he planned all the things
he was going to do to her.

 
    
By three in the afternoon, Stacy had
vacuumed, dusted, scoured the bathroom, and fantasized about Jud a million
times. Other than a few brief smiles to herself over an evening’s escapades,
she didn’t allow her assignations at The Sex Club to preoccupy her thoughts.
Why was this thing with Jud different?

 
    
There was the forbidden fruit thing, but
they’d crossed that line, she’d tasted him, vice versa,
yadda
yadda
, so why did she feel this compelling need to go
back for more?

 
    
Something indefinable had made the things
he did to her more acute. She’d taken two studs, and while the orgasm had been
wonderful, Jud, alone, had given her something far better. Both with and
without the sex toy. How could that be?

 
    
By six, she’d finished the laundry and
changed the bed. Jud was still like the call of the wild. She never went to the
club when she had to work the next day. She never went on consecutive nights.
Yet she felt
a
irresistible tug to throw her usual
pattern to the wind.

 
    
By eight, she’d eaten a light salad and
half a sandwich, soaked in the tub, reread the first five pages of a novel
three times and still couldn’t remember what it said. Jud kept
worming
his way back into her mind. Dammit. Why was she
analyzing the whole thing as if it were a problem that needed to be solved?

 
    
Her sex club trysts
had
taken on a certain routine. Two or three nights a month, the
same kind of men, young,
studly
, and, if she were
honest, unimaginative. Maybe
she
was
becoming unimaginative by sticking to the same sexual blueprint. Jud challenged
her and gave her the unexpected. She wanted his next surprise. And there was no
reason she couldn’t have it tonight.

 
    
By nine she was dressed in the hot red
leather dress she’d picked up last week. A black bead choker circled her
throat, and matching earrings dangled amid the locks of her hair. The fact that
she was going commando—as Melody called the
pantiless
state—set her body on simmer.

 
    
She was ready for anything Jud dished out.
She was ready to let him win the challenge at least one more time.

* * * * *

 
    
The upstairs bar was quieter than a Friday
or Saturday night, a few of the tables empty and no one venturing onto the
small dance floor yet. By club standards, it was early, and his guests hadn’t
gotten down to their business. Jud had been making his usual rounds, playing
the good host, stopping to chat, assessing the moods of the clientele.

 
    
He saw her the moment she entered, and
everything inside him stilled. Conversation faded, music tinkled on the edge of
his hearing’s reach, and the people standing about him could have been
cardboard cutouts. He hadn’t realized that he’d been stressing about when she’d
show up again, but with the sight of her in that hot red dress, the tension
eased from his neck like water bubbling in a brook. He knew the woman’s habits
like his own, and she didn’t take her sport at the club two nights in a row.
Stacy had come for him, and the knowledge shot through his veins like fire.

 
    
She sauntered toward him, pressing past a couple
engaged in heavy sexual negotiation. She was like a star shining in an
otherwise dark sky. The red dress left her exquisite shoulders and legs equally
bare, wrapping her in leather from the swell of her abundant breasts to
midthigh
. The zipper that ran from top to bottom begged a
man to simply pull the tab and reveal the luscious prize that lay hidden
beneath the leather. He wanted to chew on the choker that caressed her throat
and bury his face in the silk of her hair.

 
    
“Jud, you didn’t answer my question,” said
the blonde he’d been chatting with. Or maybe it was one of the brunettes.

 
    
He couldn’t remember the woman’s name, nor
those of her two companions. They were all in their late twenties. Beyond their
hair tint and the differing colors of their dresses, they were
indistinguishable. He decided it was the blonde who’d spoken when she dragged a
fingernail down his arm.

 
    
“What were you saying?” He stepped away,
adding no apology for his inattention.

 
    
“We wanted to know what you’re doing later
tonight.”

 
    
His heart beat faster as he glanced over
her head to Stacy’s approach. He knew exactly what he’d be doing, tonight and
for a long, long time after that. All he had to do was keep winning the
challenges between them.

 
    
“Working, ladies, always working.”

 
    
He smelled Stacy’s subtle perfume from
three feet away as if she were the only woman in the room. He had it bad, and
it felt damn good. She was finally within reach, both physically and
metaphorically. Taking her arm, he pulled her into the circle of women,
effectively steering the blonde to the side.

 
    
“Hi, Jud.”

 
    
“Hi, sweetheart.”

 
    
He felt Stacy tense at the endearment.
Get used to it, baby, there’s a lot more
where that came from.

 
    
“How was your day?”

 
    
She tipped her head, her eyes widening. “Fine,
thank you.”

 
    
He could see her brain working. At the
club, people didn’t exchange the same greetings. They didn’t call each other
sweetheart, and they didn’t ask about the day, mostly because nobody gave a
damn. He put his arm around her bare shoulders, then curled her hair behind her
ear.

 
    
“You’ll be glad to know my conversation
with Derek had the desired effect.”

 
    
For a moment, her eyes glazed as if she
couldn’t follow what he was saying, then she glanced at the long bar where
Derek was drying glasses.

 
    
“Oh. Great.”

 
    
“Your advice was right on.” He wasn’t sure
she even remembered her suggestion regarding Derek’s erratic work habits. So
much had happened in between.

 
    
But she smiled, a pasted-on, plastic smile.
“Great.”

 
    
She was repeating herself. He couldn’t
decide if she had no idea what he was talking about or she was suddenly the
frightened doe in the headlights not knowing which way to run.

 
    
Recovering, she turned to politeness, her
gaze encompassing the small group they stood amid. “Who are your friends?”

 
    
He was nonplussed for a moment. He never
forgot names. Or faces. Yet tonight, he could care less who the new guests
were.

 
    
He tucked her closer beneath his arm even
as she squirmed unobtrusively against him. “This is Serena. Ladies, why don’t
you introduce yourselves?”