Invitation to Pleasure: Open Invitation, Book 2 (14 page)

 
    
It was all so delicious, her body still
warm and moist. She was pleased with herself. She was pleased with him. They’d
gotten away with it, and the knowledge beat an exhilarating pulse between her
legs. Still, they had The Sex Club. It was a more suitable place to indulge
themselves.

 
    
She couldn’t wait for his next invitation
to pleasure.

* * * * *

 
    
Two mornings later, Brett stood in front of
the mirror. He’d nicked himself shaving, a spot of blood welling on his chin.

 
    
Three facts. Number one: a marriage both he
and Virginia intended to be safe, comfortable, and controlled now had control
of him. And, after due consideration, he’d decided he liked it that way. A
little jealousy on his part had driven Virginia to new heights. Hell, she’d let
him fuck her in their bedroom with their guests downstairs. What more could he
ask for?

 
    
Which brought him to fact two. He could ask
for a lot. He wanted that uninhibited woman in his bed every night. And he
didn’t want her thinking she could wander off at The Sex Club and take anyone
she wanted any time she wanted.

 
    
I
wanted someone to do that to me.

 
    
Fact number three. Virginia was going to
learn that
someone
was him. She
needed a lesson. And he was so going to enjoy giving it to her. He’d decided it
would be a dual message. He’d show her how utterly desirable she was, wanted by
a horde of men, and by him most of all. Then he’d show her that she belonged to
him. Him alone. And she’d never need another.

 
    
Christ. He knew in ways he sounded like his
jealous, possessive ex-wife. Yet he was man enough to admit that calm serenity,
and hot, hot sex made for a potent mixture he now craved. As long as he got
Virginia to accept that she craved the erotic blend, too, jealousy on his part
could do no harm. It was when goals were diametrically opposed that a problem
arose.

 
    
Or was he just rationalizing the new rules
he wanted to lay down for their marriage? He risked ruining a damn good thing
if she said no.

 
    
He stared at his reflection in the mirror,
then let a smile slowly rise. “She’s not going to say no.” He wouldn’t let her.

 
    
“Did you say something, honey?” Virginia
called from the bedroom.

 
    
“Just talking to myself, darling.”

 
    
Darling,
honey.
They’d taken to pet names. She’d seemed none the worse for his
debauchery the night of the party. She had, however, fallen asleep on the couch
last night while they were watching TV. He’d tasked her with a grueling social
schedule, not to mention that she still refused to give up her day job. So he’d
let her sleep, though his cock and balls screamed for her attention.

 
    
He smiled once more into the mirror.
Tonight, there would be no sleep for either of them.

 
    
She poked her head into the bathroom.
“You’re not even done shaving.”

 
    
“I’m running late. Go on without me.” He
had plans to set in motion before he left for the office.

 
    
“You’re bleeding.”

 
    
“It’s a scratch.” He dabbed at the nick.

 
    
She grabbed the tissue from his hand before
he even realized she entered the bathroom. “You silly man.”

 
    
She finished the dabbing, then kissed him
on the chin. Her perfume, neither floral nor fruity but something more exotic
and musky, filled his head.

 
    
“See you tonight,” she whispered, then left
him with a tap-tap of her heels on the tile floor and the intoxication of her
scent. The exchange, like sweet love play, flipped his heart over. He craved
this new tenderness between them as much as he craved the heated, overpowering
sexual encounters.

 
    
With Virginia, he wanted it all.

 
    
He followed to the head of the stairs,
making sure she was gone, then headed back into the bedroom. Inside her closet,
he rummaged. He found what he wanted, what made him hot, his cock hardening in
his briefs, and laid the dress out on the bed. He located black shoes on the
floor of her closet and set those out, too. Finally he scribbled a note and
topped it with an invitation he’d had since Friday.

 
    
Then he went to his office to make some
calls and set his plan in motion.

 
    
Tonight at The Sex Club, he would give her
what she wanted. Men that wanted her badly. Lots of men. But only one man would
get the pleasure of having her. Her husband. And no one else.

* * * * *

 
    
Brett hadn’t been in the condo when
Virginia arrived home from work. Instead, he’d left her an envelope, a note
telling her to meet him at nine attired in the dress she’d worn on their first
date. It was a simple black evening frock. She was surprised and touched he’d
remembered. And hot beyond belief imagining what he had planned for her this
time.

 
    
She handed her invitation to the same
efficient blond hostess who’d greeted them the night of her bachelorette party.
“Ah. We’ve been expecting you. Your gentleman requests that you allow the
contessa to attend you in your preparations.”

 
    
This was different. And intriguing. The
contessa, a woman of about her own age draped in yards of white, led Virginia
to an antechamber off the main hall. The Sex Club had more hidden rooms than a
Halloween funhouse. This one was outfitted like a lady’s boudoir, with vanity,
striped chairs, and a small dais in the middle. With a flourish of her hand,
the contessa bade Virginia to stand on it.

 
    
Moving behind her, the lady tugged on the
zipper of her dress. “First, we shall remove your clothing,” she said with an
old-world accent.

 
    
Warm air rushed down her back, then the
woman’s fingertips slid the fabric down her arms and over her hips. Virginia
was naked beneath. Brett hadn’t left her any underwear at all. Next, she was
divested of her shoes. It was the oddest feeling being exposed by another
woman. Sensual and erotic, yet devoid of desire.

 
    
With a whisper of slippers across the
carpet, the woman approached the vanity, opening a flat velvet case to reveal
the sparkle of diamonds. “He requests you wear his special gifts.”

 
    
Virginia knew she’d been selfish in not
allowing Brett to buy her presents. Gift-giving was as much for the giver as
for the recipient. She wouldn’t disappoint him again.

 
    
Standing behind her, the contessa fit a
belly chain to her waist, its diamonds flashing in the room’s lamps. The gold
chain warmed against her skin. She’d never worn such a thing, but it made her
feel sexy, decadent. Circling her, the woman went down on one knee and slipped
on matching anklets. From a pocket in her voluminous white robe, she withdrew a
small vial.

 
    
“Wet your fingers and pinch your nipples.”

 
    
Virginia blinked. The lady waited, a slight
curve to her crimson lips and a crinkle of porcelain skin at the corner of her
eyes.

 
    
With the contessa’s gaze on her, Virginia
slid one index finger in her mouth, then tweaked each nipple until they rose to
peaks. Tipping the vial onto a finger, her attendant smoothed an exotic
perfume, something musky and pagan, around each of Virginia’s nipples and down
between her breasts. They started to heat and extend, and she was again
assailed by an almost uncomfortable rush of sensuality.

 
    
Taking Virginia’s hand in hers, the woman
tipped the vial once more. “Rub it on your woman parts.” Even her language was
old-fashioned, in keeping with the ceremonial atmosphere of...well, the
anointing. That’s how Virginia thought of it. She was being anointed for her
lover.

 
    
Keeping her gaze warily on the lady,
Virginia slipped her finger between her legs and caressed her clitoris, swabbing
it with the exotic scent. There, too, she began to heat and pulse. “What is
it?”

 
    
“The scent your gentleman wishes you to
wear.” Then, with a tap of her fingers, she bade Virginia to turn and see
herself in the mirror.

 
    
“You are beautiful. Your gentleman will be
very pleased.”

 
    
It felt terribly erotic to be clothed only
in Brett’s gifts, her breasts and clitoris thrumming with the application of
that secret potion, and the woman’s eyes on her. Black velvet was then draped
over her shoulders, a long cloak falling to within an inch of the carpet, and
her hair loosened to cascade around her neck and shoulders. Lastly, the woman
fitted a blindfold over her eyes.

 
    
When Virginia stepped down, the tiny gold
bells on the anklets tinkled, and the carpet was soft against her bare feet.

 
    
“Perfect. We are ready.” Low and melodic,
the contessa’s voice whispered against her hair.

 
    
With a gentle hand on Virginia’s arm, the
lady then led her from the room. Virginia felt the sudden hush of voices. The
only sound was the shush of the contessa’s slippers across the cold marble of
the entry hall and the tinkling of the ankle bells. Her cloak was held away
from her so she wouldn’t trip on it as she climbed the stairs, and the rush of
air told her she was exposed to the eyes of the hushed crowd. The blindfold
heightened her other senses, revealing soft whispers, the exotic scent of
perfume, the caress of velvet on her heated nipples, and the cool slide of
diamonds against her skin. Her body trembled in anticipation, and her mind
whirled on what Brett’s surprise would be.

 
    
The man was a magician.
Her
magician.

 
    
Virginia counted every turn, and the long
parade ended after they’d climbed three flights. The contessa knocked, then her
hand dropped from Virginia’s arm, and her white robe rustled as she slipped
away. The door opened, and Virginia scented him, part expensive cologne, part
hungry male, and all Brett. There were other scents, too, the commingling of
spices and mouthwatering ingredients, laced with a rash of feminine perfumes.
Champagne sizzled, ice cubes chinked, voices murmured, and beneath it all lay
the hum of sexual energy. A light laugh to her right, a sigh from the back, a
low groan in a corner.

 
    
The blindfold added an exciting dimension.
She felt him circle her, inhaling deeply. “You smell like hot nights, exotic
flowers, and desire.” He exhaled. “Perfect.”

 
    
The oil she’d anointed herself with
sizzled, her clitoris and nipples plump, extended, achy, and eager for his
touch.

 
    
Brett reached beneath the cloak, took her
hand, and drew her into the room. With the lack of echo, she assumed it was
relatively small. Hardwood, then a thick rug beneath her feet, and after six
steps he halted.

 
    
“Do you like my gifts?” he whispered
against her ear with a tantalizing mixture of toothpaste, champagne, and heat.

 
    
“I love each piece. Thank you.”

 
    
“I have another present. Diamonds to match
the ones you’re wearing.” He smoothed her hair back over her shoulders, undid
the cloak’s tie at her neck, and let the velvet fall to the floor. Warm air
caressed her naked body, and a low murmur rose in front of her. She couldn’t
distinguish voices or how many people, but just imagining hungry eyes on her
brought a flow of moisture to her center and a rush of heat to her thighs.

 
    
Brett shaped something with the feel of
leather around her throat, fastened it at her nape, then tested the fit with
one finger. A choker or collar, tight but not too tight. He tugged lightly on
the choker, his knuckles grazing her skin. The chink of metal on metal filled
the room, then a weight pulled on the collar, and something cool and smooth
fell between her breasts and across her abdomen. Next he encircled her lower
arms with what felt like long metal cuffs. She had no doubt he was manacling
her wrists. He stepped away, more sounds, clink, clank. Her mind spun trying to
determine what he was doing.