Invitation to Pleasure: Open Invitation, Book 2 (15 page)

 
    
“Does anything hurt?” he asked, returning
once more to her side, his body’s heat searing her even through his layers of
clothing.

 
    
“No.” It felt...incredibly erotic. The
weight at her throat, the feel of warming metal caressing chest and belly and
binding her wrists. She tested. She could move her hands only perhaps a foot
apart, the attached chain or whatever it was, slithering across her breasts.
The teasing heat on her nipples and clitoris had retreated, but stimulated, her
body manufactured its own warmth now, its own erotic pulse beat.

 
    
Then he stepped behind her and tugged the
tie on her blindfold, pulling it away from her eyes.

 
    
The intimate party gathered all around her
resembled her dinner affair of two nights ago, with couples dressed in evening
wear. Two waiters circled the room providing drinks and offering hors
d'oeuvres. Side tables interspersed sofas and armchairs, with lamps giving off
a warm illumination. The ubiquitous candy dishes of colored condoms were placed
strategically.

 
    
Virginia counted five couples. Wedding
rings graced the hands she could see. Three couples snuggled individually on
the sofas, a woman sat on the edge of her husband’s armchair, and a dark-haired
man stood by a table, his arm curled beneath his blond wife’s breasts as she
nestled back against his chest. All midthirties to midforties, pretty and
handsome in very ordinary ways, nothing spectacular but that the group as a
whole dressed up nicely. The men, good-looking and fit, were boldly assessing,
while the women ranged from envious to hungry for the show.

 
    
Her husband had manacled her naked in the
center of the room, wearing only a collar, a diamond belly chain, and matching
anklets, not to mention the little bells that chimed every time she moved. He’d
fastened six-inch-long golden arm bands above her wrists, the detailing in the
metalwork breathtaking. The individual bracelets were attached by a chain of
the same braided gold as the one at her throat. A leash of sorts, it ran from
her choker, through a loop in the arm band chain to a sturdy brass post
resembling an old-fashioned horse hitch.

 
    
Her body liquefied, dampening her thighs,
and she trembled, delicious shivers running down her spine. What on earth did
he have planned this time? She was weak-kneed with anticipation.

 
    
Brett’s dark gaze surveyed her beaded
nipples, the flush heating her skin, and the quickened pace of her breath, then
he raised her confined hands to his lips. “Ladies and gentlemen, my wife
Regina.” He used her club name.

 
    
Then he tipped a glass of champagne against
her lips. “Drink,” he urged. She sipped, then he swooped in to lick the
sweetness from her mouth. His semi-kiss sent heat shimmering through her belly,
and a tingle tangoed between her legs.

 
    
“More,” he ordered, and this time she took
two long swallows, the sparkling wine fizzling in her throat and immediately
going to her head.

 
    
He took in her wide eyes and leaned close
to whisper, “Enjoy. This is all for you.” His finger trailed her bare arm as he
pulled away, a half smile on his lips. Then he turned to his audience.
“Gentlemen, consider your bids carefully. My wife is a prize like no other. And
you only get one chance.”

 
    
Bids? She was the prize? He couldn’t
possibly mean it. This wasn’t the surprise she’d been anticipating, not at all.
His face was unreadable, his voice calm and controlled. She looked at him. He
wasn’t the man who’d begged her to fuck him up in their bedroom. And he
certainly wasn’t the man she’d kissed good-bye on the cheek this morning.

 
    
“What about their wives?” Surely the wives
would put a stop to it.

 
    
“That was one of the questions during my
interview process. A wife who desired watching her husband fuck another woman.”

 
    
He’d
interviewed
these people? Oh my God. “What were the other questions?” She was terrified to
think.

 
    
“They had to get a hard-on looking at your
photograph.” One eyebrow rose. “Not a
naked
photograph, darling. But then none of them needed to see you naked.” He tapped
her nose and whispered, “All that passion you exude shows in the eyes.” He
pulled back and raised his voice. “I feel the bidding will go quite high to get
a piece of your ass, my love.”

 
    
“They’re going to make bids to see who
fucks me?”
Please don’t do this to me.

 
    
He grinned like a feral animal. “Yes.”

 
    
“And you’re going to watch?”

 
    
“Hell, yes.”

 
    
Another thought punched her, one worse than
the idea of Brett giving her to another man. “Do you get the winner’s wife?”

 
    
“That part’s up to you.” He covered her
mouth before she could answer. “Tell me”—he arched a brow—“later.”

 
    
Now or later, she wasn’t going to let him
so much as touch another woman. And she didn’t want any of his assembled
bidders. She wanted only him.

 
    
“Why are you doing this?” She felt all her
fear seeping through the question.

 
    
The night of the cocktail party had been
glorious. She’d never felt so desired. How could he take it all away now?

 
    
Circling her, he came up behind, pulling
her against him, the hard ridge of his cock nestling along her spine. Grabbing
her chin, he turned her head, kissed her, openmouthed, then licked the seam of
her lips before drawing back. “Trust me,” he whispered.

 
    
Trust him to do what? Provide the latest
erotic thrill in a marriage that, for being so short in duration, had provided
almost more thrills that she could cope with? She wasn’t sure she could cope
with this one. Yet...

 
    
Trust
me.
He’d given her more in their short marriage than she’d ever expected.
Ever hoped for. He’d amazed her, delighted her, made her tremble. And he hadn’t
once disappointed her. Each new surprise was infinitely better than the last.
He seemed to know what she wanted, what she needed. Always. His demands were as
much give as they were take. With this night, he sought to provide something
she craved. She could only hope he understood what she
didn’t
want as much as what she did.

 
    
Trust
me.
Those two words said everything. He did understand. Perfectly. With a
slight curving of her mouth, she gave herself over to him completely.

 
    
He swiped his tongue along her cheek in a
gesture of ownership. “Show the bidders your wares, darling.” He cupped her
breasts, plumping them for her spectators, flicking the nipples until they
peaked, so hard it was almost painful yet wholly delicious, especially with the
potion still casting its lingering effect over her.

 
    
Flattening his palm against her chest, he
arched her, then slid a hand down her belly, skimming the chain at her waist,
and delved into her pussy. She gasped, the scent of her own arousal rising,
clouding her senses. Or perhaps intensifying them. His finger felt unbearably
hot, extreme, overwhelming. It was the potion, but more, it was Brett. She
melted into the pleasure of his touch and all those eyes on her.

 
    
“You’re wet. Spread your legs. Show them
your hot pussy.” With a knee, he parted her thighs and braced her against him.
“I want them to see what a juicy piece you are. How much you love my touch.” He
circled her clit. Her legs trembled, and he held her up. “Open your eyes. Watch
how you excite them.”

 
    
His voice was coarsely demanding. She
didn’t even consider disobeying.

 
    
The dark-haired man, his wife’s back to
him, slid his palm down the center of her dress, caressing her between the legs
in conscious or unconscious imitation of Brett’s ministrations. The woman
moaned, wound her arm back around his neck, and rotated her hips. On the couch,
another man unzipped his pants and forced his companion’s mouth to his cock.

 
    
Brett pushed a finger inside her and
Virginia rose on her toes to allow him the deepest penetration. Her vision
swam, her head dizzied, the scent of sex and desire perfuming the very air she
breathed. Like an aphrodisiac, it spiked her arousal higher. She started to
pant.

 
    
“They see what a perfect fuck you’re going
to make.” Then his hand was gone as he reached around to take the leash
attached to her collar and forced her to the carpet. “Hands and knees,” he
murmured, his voice harsh with his own need. “Spread wide. I want them to see
how creamy you are.”

 
    
The manacles were too close to allow her to
comfortably rest on her palms, so she leaned on her elbows, her ass high, her
legs spread. Brett took advantage of her position to come at her from the rear
and slip a finger along the folds of her pussy. The first contact with her
clitoris shot a bolt of need straight up to her womb. She pushed back on him,
trying to fuck his finger.

 
    
It was almost surreal. Efficient, poised
Virginia Branoff, naked and spread doggie-style on the carpet, undulating as if
she were begging to be fucked in front of a small crowd. She’d have laughed if
she wasn’t already on fire inside.

 
    
A stocky figure rose from a couch, pulling
his cock free of his slacks. Slowly stroking, he advanced. Brett took one step
back, only one. The man circled her. On the sofa he’d vacated, another man lay
back and pulled a red-clad woman on top, raising her dress and impaling her in
one swift movement.

 
    
“Does she suck?” the stocky guy asked.
Virginia felt his gaze on her mouth as he pumped himself, faster, the tip of
his cock engorged. If she could have raised her eyes to see his face, judge the
handsomeness of it, she would have. But all she could see was that cock and the
swift movements of his hand.

 
    
“She loves the taste of come in her mouth.”
Brett’s voice, low, guttural. She wanted to taste his come right now. Pulling
up on the chain, he forced her to look at him. “And she will do anything and
everything the winner tells her to do.”

 
    
Anything? Everything?
Trust me.
She bobbed her head.

 
    
Beside her, the potential bidder leaned
down, closed his eyes, and drew in a long breath. “She smells good.” Then he
reached for a globe of her upturned ass.

 
    
“Don’t make me have to break your fingers,”
Brett growled. He meant it, and Virginia nearly came with the violent sound.

 
    
The man withdrew his hand in a snap.
Someone gasped, a female, but Virginia couldn’t tell which one.

 
    
Still stroking, his cock head now purpled
and needy, he eyed Brett. “May we have a demonstration?”

 
    
“I’d be only too happy to oblige.” Brett
unzipped, set himself free, and raised Virginia by the leash until she could
grab his thighs for support. His gaze was rich with need. He put a hand beneath
her chin, stroking her with his thumb. “Take me,” he whispered. A command, yet
a plea.

 
    
The gentle tone drowned out all the other
sounds around them. There was simply his voice, his hand on her, and his
offering.

 
    
Then he cupped her head and fed his cock
into her mouth. The first taste was like ambrosia, a heady mixture of salt and
sweet. She let him slide back across her tongue, deep into the recesses of her
mouth. Against the tip of his cock, she hummed her pleasure, and he jerked. She
put her fingers to his testicles, squeezing lightly.

 
    
“Christ. She’s going to make me come.” And
he pulled from her lips. Virginia turned her face, leaning against him, a
streak of his juice wetting her cheek, his salty taste piquant on her tongue.

 
    
The bidder studied his watch. “Jesus. That
was less than fifteen seconds.” He pumped himself more ferociously.