Invitation to Pleasure: Open Invitation, Book 2 (4 page)

 
    
“Well, thank you, Brett. It’s nice to have
choices. Still, I don’t want to give up my job.”

 
    
Virginia drew much of her self-esteem from
her work, just as he did. Perhaps if his ex-wife had kept her job, she wouldn’t
have been so unhappy. But then, she’d married him so she wouldn’t have to work.
Virginia had married him for the same reason he’d married her, because they
complemented each other.

 
    
He sipped his champagne in a silent toast
to that. “Good, now that’s settled, how about doing something wild and crazy to
celebrate our wedding?”

 
    
She smiled. “I wouldn’t have suspected you
were a wild and crazy man.”

 
    
“Ah, I still have secrets then.”

 
    
“What do you have in mind? We did the
elegant dinner. Would you like to ride the roller coaster at the top of that
hotel? I can’t remember the name of it.”

 
    
“Actually I thought we should make love
again. I don’t believe we’ve done that twice in one night.”

 
    
Virginia laughed, with no undertones or
hidden meanings, just pure amusement. “Oh my, you truly are wild. I’m shocked.”

 
    
He set his champagne glass on the small
table next to him. “Let me show you how much more wild I can get.” He dropped
his feet to the terrace floor, unbelted his robe, and pulled the lapels apart.
His cock had risen to half mast in anticipation.

 
    
She gasped. “Brett. Someone might see you.”

 
    
Where was the woman who’d stripped off her
clothes and masturbated for strangers? He would bring her out in the open.

 
    
“It’s dark, and we’re on the top floor.” He
wrapped his hand around his cock and pumped slowly a couple of times. “Of
course, someone might be using binoculars.”

 
    
Bracing his feet, he pushed his chair back
so that he could see her profile better. So that he could gauge her reactions.
Her head followed his movement, her eyes riveted on his cock.

 
    
A tiny drop of come oozed under her gaze,
and his partial erection flared.

 
    
“You like this, Virginia?” He hoped to stir
her more erotic inclinations.

 
    
Her lips parted, revealing the tip of her
tongue. “It’s kinky.”

 
    
He closed his fist around the crest of
cock, gathering the moisture in his palm, then sliding back down. She’d gotten
a hell of a lot kinkier last night. “Is that good or bad?”

 
    
“It’s...surprising.”

 
    
He wanted her to grab his cock and take
over. Perhaps to crawl between his knees and suck him. Better yet, to part her
own robe and touch herself.

 
    
She did none of those things. She merely
stared. Her robe was too thick to judge the state of her nipples, and over the
noise of the traffic below, he couldn’t discern an alteration in her breath
rate.

 
    
Maybe she needed The Sex Club to set her
loose.

 
    
“Let’s both indulge ourselves, Virginia.”

 
    
She almost seemed to drag her gaze from the
slow pump of his hand to his eyes. “What do you want me to do?”

 
    
Don’t
ask, just do.
“Whatever you want. Total freedom, remember?”

 
    
“But, I don’t...” She didn’t finish.

 
    
All right, she needed a little help
releasing herself in front of him. Perhaps that was the club’s secret.
Anonymity. She’d never have to see those men again. She didn’t have to get up
beside them in the morning or brush her teeth at the other sink in the
bathroom.

 
    
“Stand between my legs.”

 
    
She rose, holding the folds of her robe
tight around her. He spread his legs to accommodate her.

 
    
“Open your robe and pull it apart. Let your
fingers trail your nipples as you do.”

 
    
She parted the upper lapels first, her
fingers grazing her breasts. In the glow of the city lights, he could see
they’d risen to hard nubs. Untying the robe and pulling the sash loose, the
terry cloth fell open to reveal her slightly rounded belly and blond bush two
shades darker than her hair.

 
    
She stopped, having done what he told her
to and no more.

 
    
Okay, he was getting her unspoken message.
She’d obey his instructions, but she wouldn’t take the initiative. He could
work with that.

 
    
“Get down on your knees.”

 
    
The decking was pebbled and might bruise or
scrape her knees. He let go of his cock long enough to lean forward and tuck
the bottom of her robe protectively beneath her flesh.

 
    
“Put your hands here.” Brett guided her to
his thighs, then once more started the slow masturbation of his cock.

 
    
“This is weird, Brett.”

 
    
He was a seemingly different man. Virginia
had watched men whack off before. She’d bent her head at the moment of climax
and received their come in her mouth. It had been very sexy, very exciting.

 
    
With Brett, the act of watching was scary.
Dangerous. Their relationship wasn’t supposed to be sexy or exciting. Yet she
couldn’t take her eyes off his hand, his cock. He had a unique technique,
twirling slightly so that he stimulated up, down, and around, caressing the
crown of his cock, coating his palm with beads of precome, then retreating only
to start the whole sensual rhythm over. Each time the head of his cock popped
through his closed fist, it was a little darker, the skin stretched a tad
tighter, the length a taste longer.

 
    
She wanted to open her mouth and follow the
pied piper of his pumping fist with her lips.

 
    
“Do you like it, Virginia?”

 
    
“I don’t know what to say.” He kept asking
her questions, kept telling her to do things. But what beat at her more than
desire was fear.

 
    
“Indulge yourself, sweetheart.”

 
    
She’d indulged herself last night, her last
unwedded night.

 
    
And she had the sick feeling that Brett
knew all about it.

 
    
“Touch yourself while I’m doing this.”

 
    
Her heart seized, then started beating
erratically.

 
    
Their sex was conventional. They performed
oral sex briefly as foreplay, then finished in the usual way. They rarely
varied position. He’d never stroked himself while she watched, never asked her
to do the same.

 
    
So why now?

 
    
She licked her lips. His pace increased,
the sweep of his hand hypnotic. Up, down, around. Her fingers tightened on the
taut flesh of his thighs. She bent slightly. Closer, closer. A drop of moisture
broke through and creamed the top of her legs.

 
    
Indulge
yourself.

 
    
What was he trying to tell her? That
visiting a sex club was okay? That she could take other men? That he wanted to
take other women? Or was he trying to lull her into admitting aloud what she’d
done so he could slam her down?

 
    
Fear and desire were a potent mix. His
hooded gaze and the purpled crown of his cock beckoned. Almost as if it didn’t
belong to her, her hand slid across her belly to the thatch of hair at the apex
of her thighs.

 
    
“That’s it, let me watch you.”

 
    
She stopped, her fingers suddenly numb. A
week ago, when she’d been in the bathroom, she’d asked him to answer her
ringing cell phone, hoping it was a call she’d been waiting for. She’d
forgotten that right next to it in her purse were the invitations to The Sex
Club.

 
    
Later, she’d told herself that he hadn’t
noticed, let alone found time to take one out, open it, read it, and put it
back in exactly the same spot.

 
    
His eyes glittered, dark and mysterious
despite the Las Vegas glory and the full moon.

 
    
The enigma of his gaze tantalized,
mystified, and released a gush of heat and wet. His whole body moved with the
rhythmic stroke of his hand, faster, his hips rising to the slap of his fist,
his thighs gripping her, the muscles of his chest rippling.

 
    
Then he threw back his head, groaned into
the night and came all over her breasts and throat. After his final spurt of
semen, he collapsed in the chair, his eyes closed.

 
    
His warm, salty come dribbled down her
chest to her belly. She raised a hand, sliding two fingers through his essence,
circling first one nipple, then the other.

 
    
It felt so good, so right, yet worrisome.
She didn’t want to have emotions about Brett. She’d had enough turbulent
emotion to last a lifetime. And she’d made a lot of disastrous decisions based
upon it. She didn’t want that this time, not with him.

 
    
Brett opened his eyes, locking gazes with
her.

 
    
He took her breath away. She’d always thought
him handsome, but naked, slouched in the chair, his hand still idly stroking
his cock, he was magnificent.

 
    
He smiled, soft, lazy, content, his head
resting on the back of the chair. “That was good.”

 
    
“I thought you wanted to make love.” It
sounded like a complaint, though she didn’t mean it that way.

 
    
He raised a hand to stroke a finger down
her arm. “That
was
making love.”

 
    
“But I didn’t participate.”

 
    
He smiled that slow, lazy smile again. “You
watched. Sometimes that’s all the participation necessary.”

 
    
A kernel of fear soaked up all the saliva
in her throat and expanded like a sponge. He did know. He had to know. What did
he want? What did it all mean for a marriage over which she thought she’d have
perfect control?

 
    
“What are you thinking?”

 
    
She almost laughed. Women were supposed to
say that, not men. But she didn’t answer. She had to figure this out first.
Revelation was such a common thing yet sometimes a big mistake. She didn’t know
if she could trust this new and almost predatory Brett.

 
    
Instead of pushing, Brett leaned forward.
His mouth only inches from hers, his eyes never letting her go, he slid his
fingers down her throat, her chest, across her belly, and straight into her
pussy. His come hadn’t cooled, the sensation an exquisite warmth.

 
    
She closed her eyes.

 
    
His lips touched her hair, his tongue
rimmed her ear, then he whispered, “You haven’t said a word for over a minute.”

 
    
“I’m stunned.”

 
    
“You’re wet, too.” He fingered her clit,
two passes, bottom to top and back again, then he stopped. “You could have come
when I did.”

 
    
She wanted to now. He’d started stroking
again, circles, light caresses.

 
    
“Rub it in.”

 
    
His come. She put the flat of her hand to
her chest and smoothed his cream over her skin.