Invitation to Pleasure: Open Invitation, Book 2 (13 page)

 
    
“And I’ll take
this
.” He pulled up her skirt, hearing the pop of several stitches.
And then his hand was between her legs, his fingers tracing the folds of her
bare pussy. No panties. Ah God. She was hot, her thighs already wet with her
juices.

 
    
“It’s made me fucking crazy all night
wondering what you were wearing under this skirt.” He breathed against her
lips. “I should have bent you over the sofa and fucked you from behind. My cock
sliding deep inside you for everyone to see.” He held her chin in his hand.
“And you’d scream for every inch.”

 
    
“Brett.” Her pupils had dilated to the
point of obscuring the blue of her eyes. This time, she didn’t deny him
completely. “We can’t stay up here too long.”

 
    
He buried his lips against her throat and
sucked her skin. Hard. Enough to mark her. She was his, no one else’s. “We’ll
stay as long as it takes for me to have what I want.” He sucked off the last
traces of her lipstick, marking her that way, too. “And it’s going to take a
very long sweet fucking time.”

 
    
She put two hands to his face and forced
him to look at her. “This
is
crazy,
Brett.”

 
    
“You don’t know the half of it.” Exactly
what he’d said to that bastard Garrett. He dragged in a breath and slammed her
up against the door. “Fuck me, Virginia. I’m gonna go nuts if you don’t. And
you really don’t want to see what I’m capable of then.”

 
    
Brett had such a look on his face. Need.
Desperation. All for want of her. This was her fantasy, to be desired so badly
a man would risk anything for her. More than physical, it was an emotion that
touched her core desires. Brett made her burn, set her skin on fire, lit an
inferno in her belly.

 
    
He’d fantasized about taking her in front
of their guests. It rang with primal need.

 
    
It was what she’d dreamed of as she’d
donned thigh-high stockings, forsaking panties. An illusion she’d wanted to
create, walking amid his guests as the perfect hostess yet a burning woman
beneath the surface. When she’d dressed, it had been a game. When Wilson
Garrett congratulated her on perturbing her imperturbable husband, it had
become something much more. With one glance at Brett, she’d felt her body heat
and her nipples peak to aching, needy points. Something dark, seething, and
delicious had been in his gaze.

 
    
One little push, and he very well might
have fucked her in front of their guests.
That
was how badly he wanted her. He was on the edge of control.

 
    
He shook her lightly, bending slightly so
he could see her at eye level. “Now,” he whispered, just a breath of air.
“Don’t make me wait. Or I’ll just take what I need.”

 
    
What woman could resist this level of
desire?
Just this once
, she told
herself. With their party going on downstairs, it
was
crazy, extreme, even stupid.
Just this time, never again
, she promised. They were supposed to
keep this kind of thing limited to The Sex Club. But she had to have it now,
because he might never be like this again, not her controlled, imperturbable
husband.

 
    
“Yes. Now.”

 
    
That was all she said, and he became an
animal. At the club, he’d taken her with the need of a man teased for a few
hours. Tonight, he was a wild beast.

 
    
He grabbed her chin and took her mouth,
devouring her with more than just his lips and tongue, devouring her with his
unleashed passion. She clutched his arms and hung on for the incredible ride,
barely able to keep up as he yanked her skirt above her hips. He was all over
her, nipping her lip, biting her throat, squeezing her buttocks. Then he
slipped down the crease of her ass to push one finger inside her wet core, the
underside of his knuckle pressing the spot between her pussy and anus. He groaned
as if it weren’t enough for him and came at her from the front with his other
hand, sliding another finger inside and working her clitoris with his palm. The
sensations burned her.

 
    
“Undo my pants.”

 
    
She gasped as he hit an acutely receptive
spot. “I can’t when you’re doing that.”

 
    
“You can do whatever I want you to.” He
backed off her clit to caress between her buttocks, using her own moisture to
slide a fraction inside and create a blaze with a slow, gentle massage. She
didn’t do rear entry, but somehow he made it incredibly sensual. “And do it
now, Virginia.”

 
    
She loved the command in his voice.
Fumbling with his buckle and zipper, she pulled his cock out. He was already
dripping for her, his crown purple with need. She bore down on his finger and
stroked his cock at the same time, squeezing from his base and back up again.
Brett groaned, and another droplet of come glazed his tip.

 
    
“You’re killing me,” he uttered in a deep
growl. “Stop playing and spread your legs for me.”

 
    
His eyes flashed, and he grinned, a
teeth-baring, feral, I-will-consume-you grin. Every thought went out of her
head as he lifted her, spread her legs to rub her pussy along his cock, and set
off sparks in her clitoris. She locked her feet behind his butt. His head
falling back in ecstasy, a low rumble pushed its way past his clenched teeth.
She sucked in a breath at the sheer pleasure, the immense power in his need.

 
    
He bent his knees and rocked against her,
sliding in her moisture. His hot, dark gaze on her turned her insides to
butter.

 
    
“You make me fucking crazy.” He slammed
into her and closed his eyes, a deep groan rising from his belly.

 
    
He’d done a complete one-eighty from the
controlled seducer of their wedding night. Her mind reeled. If this was a
fantasy he wanted to give her, she’d grab onto it with both hands and never let
go.

 
    
“I’m going to make you come. Make you
scream.”

 
    
He thrust into her with a hard, high
stroke, pumped fast and deep, and she lost her senses. The first orgasm rolled
over her without a single preliminary warning. Her pussy contracted around him,
drenched him with her desire, and he took her cries into his mouth.

 
    
He tucked his lips to her neck and
demanded, “Again. Do it again.”

 
    
“Please, please, please.” He didn’t have to
tell her to beg. The plea simply fell from her lips.

 
    
He started a relentless rhythm, his cock
stroking deep, his body rasping against her clitoris. She pushed back against
the door, bracing herself for each thrust. Clutching her bottom, he used his
fingers to spread her, taking his penetration deeper, higher. She tore at her
jacket, pulling the lapels apart to pinch her nipples. A streak of lightning
shot down to their joining, and she blasted off yet again just as she felt him
throb and tighten inside her, filling her with his need, his desire, his very
essence.

* * * * *

 
    
They were on the carpet, a tangle of limbs,
the skin of her thigh soft under the stroke of his fingers. Leaning with a
shoulder against the door, Brett was still encased in her body, steeped in her
scent, and his cock gave a final throb.

 
    
He’d lost his mind inside her. What the
hell had he been thinking? Uncontrollable jealousy and need. Feeling, not
thinking at all. But Jesus, it was so fucking good, he’d do it again in a
heartbeat.

 
    
“Do you think anyone heard?” she whispered,
her breath warm on his throat, her body snug where she’d collapsed atop him.

 
    
“I don’t care.” He’d pounded her against
the door, the wood beating in the frame, and shouted her name in that seemingly
unending moment of pure frenzy. He’d felt her keen of pleasure pulsing in his
gonads.

 
    
She pulled back and put a hand to her hair.
“I must look a fright.”

 
    
The neat knot had fallen, her blond locks
frothing about her face and shoulders. Mascara smudges darkened the skin beneath
her eyes. Her lips were a kissed-to-oblivion cherry despite the lack of
lipstick, and a hickey marred the flesh of her throat. The tantalizing perfume
of her sex hazed his mind. She looked so gorgeously loved and pleasured, her
blue eyes a dark shade of midnight desire.

 
    
“You look perfect,” he murmured.
Never more so.

 
    
Would everyone know what they’d been doing?
Hell, yes. Without a doubt, even if by some miracle the sounds of their
lovemaking hadn’t made it down the stairs. She looked utterly pleasured. He
would have used the word
debauched
,
but there was nothing debauched about Virginia. She was a lady.

 
    
She eased back farther still, his cock
falling from her body, and he felt the loss in his chest.

 
    
“We need to change,” she said but made no
move to do so.

 
    
Her suit was wrinkled beyond redemption,
and a button had torn loose. Her nipples were still ripe buds begging for his
lips. He reached out, dragging his pinkies across the peaks as he pulled the
lapels of her suit closed.

 
    
She looked down. His pants bore the traces
of her orgasms, and dabs of her lipstick were stark against the white of his
dress shirt. For the life of him, he couldn’t remember how it had gotten there.

 
    
She put a hand on his chest and leaned in.
Her lips were sweet, her tongue tracing his mouth, then delving inside.

 
    
“Thank you,” she whispered against his
lips.

 
    
He’d just dragged her up the stairs in full
view of all his guests, then fucked the hell out of her in a frenzy. And she
was thanking him? Warmth spread through his chest. He should be thanking her.
It had been beyond description.

 
    
She took his chin between her thumb and
fingers. “But maybe the club is a better place for that kind of thing than the
middle of a dinner party. There’s so much more”—she tipped her head to one
side, then the other—“freedom at The Sex Club. You do want me to indulge myself
without inhibition, don’t you?”

 
    
What was she saying? That she didn’t want
sex at home, only at the club? Or that she wanted the freedom to indulge
herself with any man she chose, and she’d get that at the club? That subtle
exchange with Wilson Garrett leaped to his mind. He didn’t give a damn what she
meant. Like hell he’d let Garrett or anyone else touch her. Ever.

 
    
But in the only remaining sane brain cell
he had, he knew his actions had compromised her reputation and his business
principles. His jealousy had taken a pleasant exchange involving his best
customer, Wilson Garrett, and turned it into something improper, imbuing the
most polite of smiles with sexual innuendo.

 
    
He needed to work on retaining at least an
ounce of control for the remainder of the evening. After all, there was
business. And
then
there was
pleasure.

* * * * *

 
    
No one had noticed a thing. Virginia
explained her change of attire, choosing a high-necked blouse that covered his
mark, by saying she’d spilled red wine on her jacket. And no one batted an
eyelash. Brett had changed also, into a suit of the same hue as the one he’d
been wearing and another white shirt. No one noticed.

 
    
Brett had brought the two halves of their
double life together, and there hadn’t been a single consequence. Best not to
tempt the fates again, though. She didn’t want to expect that kind of intensity
at home, in case she didn’t get it.

 
    
In a few minutes, she’d call her guests for
dinner. Brett was now mingling, seemingly involved in important discussion
with...Harris? She’d forgotten the man’s name, but who could blame her? Brett
had blown out a few of her fuses, and it would take time to recover. She
smiled. Softly. Just a lifting of her lips that only she felt but no one else
would see.