Invitation to Pleasure: Open Invitation, Book 2 (3 page)

 
    
She’d reserved her own cubicle in the back
of the room. Threading her way through the maze, she didn’t stop to watch the
activity. She had her own impressive show to contemplate. In the dim hall
lighting, she passed a man jerking off, eyes intent on the spectacle inside.

 
    
That’s what she wanted.
A
man so beyond himself with desire for her that he took his cock out and set his
rhythm to hers.
Right now, she wanted to feel her mysterious follower’s
desperation as he watched her.
Desperate for her.

 
    
Desire bubbled through her veins as she
stepped inside her cubicle. She’d called for black silk sheets and a mountain
of pillows. Scented candles burned on a small table. She bent to remove her
pumps. She couldn’t see through the windows, the smoked glass and the lights
centered on the bed making the view virtually one-way. If she tried, she could
make out an outline, but Virginia didn’t try. She wanted fantasy. She wanted to
pretend a man watched her without her knowledge. She would perform in abandoned
ecstasy, without inhibition.

 
    
She laid her suit jacket over the back of a
cloth-draped chair one might find in a boudoir. Her nipples were hard points
against her lacy camisole. Lifting her skirt far above her knees and raising a
leg to the chair seat, she rolled off one stocking, then the other, letting
them drift down to settle on top of her jacket. Then she reached beneath her
skirt to lingeringly touch the damp crotch of her thong before slipping it down
her legs and tossing it to the carpet. Unzipping her skirt, she
shimmied
it over her hips, then let that, too, drop crumpled
to the floor.

 
    
A gaze caressed her bare backside. She
imagined
him
touching her flesh,
running a finger down her cleft. She bit her lip, then reached for the hem of
her camisole and swiped it over her head. Her hair fell loose with the action,
pulled from its knot to fall about her shoulders.

 
    
The room was warm but not hot. Still, a
slight sheen of perspiration speckled her skin.
Salty.
She imagined his tongue licking it off.

 
    
Virginia always imagined a lover while she
masturbated. A faceless lover who did whatever she
asked,
who made her come with his tongue against her clit and his fingers in her
pussy.

 
    
This time,
he
was out there watching. There were eyes at every window, gazes
on every part of her body, but the thought of
his
stare let loose a bead of moisture between her thighs. She
reached down, smoothing it away with the pad of her finger, glazing across her
pubic hair, then lifted her hand to her mouth and sucked.

 
    
The bed. She needed to spread herself for
him, show him the pink folds of her pussy, the hard nub of her clitoris.

 
    
She sank into the cushions, the black sheet
soft and silky against her bottom. She started with her breasts, holding them
aloft, plumping them, then pinched the tight nipples until they stung.
Caressing her belly, she wriggled on the bed, shifting restlessly. Bringing her
feet up, she let her knees fall wide, exposing herself directly to the window
right in front of the bed. Her fingers slid through all the moisture, first
inside, then back up to her clitoris. She stroked herself slowly with long
caresses that started in her vagina and ended at the top of her slit, sweeping
her clitoris over and over. Beneath the steady beat of the arena’s music, she
thought she could hear him breathe. Did he have his cock out already? Or would
he wait, letting the sight of her build his anticipation, his desperation,
until he would come with only one stroke of his hand. Imagining his loss of
control, she plundered her clit to a quick high, almost to the point of orgasm.
Another moment, and she would have come, but that was far too soon.

 
    
She rolled onto her stomach, rising to her
hands and knees, pointing her ass to the window. She spread her legs, then
dipped her hand low and back, to the outer edges of her anus. Returning to her
pussy, she shoved two fingers inside and rode her hand. So good, so hot. It
would drive him insane with need.

 
    
She should have asked for a vibrator to use
on herself, but the thought hadn’t occurred to her, not even in the Massage
Parlor. It did now, and her juices soaked her fingers.

 
    
She didn’t know how long she played with
herself, how many positions she went through, or how many times she came close
to orgasm, barely managing to pull back at the last instant. Her body thrummed,
vibrated, and bucked on its own against her hand. She drenched the bed. Her
ears rang.

 
    
She dragged her finger over her clit,
intending to hold herself just beyond orgasm for as long as she could, but it
was the last time. Her body took over, going off by itself, out of her control.
Orgasm rocketed through her womb, slamming into her heart, and shaking her
limbs with its intensity. The screams of abandon filling her ears were her own.

* * * * *

 
    
His cock was on fire, and his balls ached
with an unbearable need he couldn’t quench. But he didn’t touch himself. When
he came, he wanted her to be watching.

 
    
For now, all he could do was clench a fist
on the window’s sill and drink in the sight of her gorgeous pussy, the scent of
her sweet come, the echo of her passion ringing in his ears.

 
    
She’d fucked herself in every imaginable
position. Her juices on the bed, coating her thighs, shimmering on her fingers.

 
    
He’d seen a lot of things, done a lot of
things, but this was new. This was an abandon he’d never before witnessed,
never before worshipped. She played her body like a maestro. She knew how to
bring herself to the brink and not go off, how to keep herself rising and
falling until the inevitable orgasm shot her into the heavens. He’d thought
about taking her, shoving his cock deep inside her as she knelt before him on
the bed. She’d teased every man in the room with that ass as she’d fucked
herself with her fingers. Rules be damned, he’d almost gone in there and taken
her. Earlier in the evening he might have done just that without a second
thought.

 
    
The last half hour had changed his
strategy. There was so much more beneath her elegant business suit than he’d
imagined. So much passion he’d never dreamed she possessed. He would have
that
woman. He would give her
unimaginable pleasure.

 
    
And that would take a foolproof plan to get
her to reveal her inner self completely to him.

 
    
Brett Branoff eased back from the window,
fading into the shadows along the wall, and left the room. When he’d decided to
follow her, it was to find out why his serene, ladylike, not particularly
sexual fiancé had chosen The Sex Club as the party place for her final
unmarried night, a fact he’d inadvertently stumbled upon. He wasn’t a jealous
man in the main, but he had to admit to a certain inexplicable tension riding
him until he realized her rendezvous was with herself. Now, he wanted to learn
more about Virginia’s deepest desires. She liked to watch. More, she liked to
be
watched, something that appealed to
his sexual nature. He’d unearthed something so much more intriguing than he’d
ever expected.

 
    
Tomorrow, he would make Virginia Hansen his
wife.

 
    
Then he’d find a way to release the woman
he’d discovered at The Sex Club.

 
    
“That was good.” After last night’s trip to
the club, Brett wanted more from Virginia. He’d actually expected it. More
involvement. More passion.

 
    
Beside him, Virginia sipped her champagne.
“Very good.”

 
    
Brett propped his feet on the balustrade,
his robe falling open over his legs, and rested his glass on his stomach.
Sitting side by side on patio chairs, his forearm brushed Virginia’s as he
settled. They’d turned out the lights and before them, the Las Vegas strip
glowed across the skyline, illuminating the night. With the sunset long gone,
the hot summer air had cooled to comfortable. Traffic noise and the cacophony
of a million voices on the street drifted up to the penthouse terrace, muted by
distance. They’d been married six hours ago, enjoyed a sumptuous dinner at a
refined restaurant, then returned to the room where a chilled bottle of Dom
Perignon had awaited them. After which they’d made love for the first time as
man and wife.

 
    
Brett waited for her to say more. She
didn’t. Wrapped in her fluffy hotel robe, Virginia had curled her feet beneath
her on the balcony chair, her champagne flute tucked to her chest, a faraway
look in her eye as she gazed across the Las Vegas glitz.

 
    
The look signified her level of
participation in their lovemaking. He didn’t touch her on the inside. He wasn’t
sure why watching her last night had changed his own level of participation,
but it had. Tonight he’d made her come, but he hadn’t made her scream the way
she had on the black silk sheets in the club the night before.

 
    
Making her scream had become his new goal.
But hell if he knew how to accomplish that. He’d rubbed her, gone down on her,
thrust deeply in her body. She’d remained...uninvolved. As if sex were a duty
to be performed, not a pleasure to be savored.

 
    
Truly, before last night, he’d been
satisfied with that. Virginia never displayed an inordinate amount of emotion.
It was one of the reasons he asked her to marry him. He craved her serenity.
He’d had emotional overload in his previous marriage. Life with Virginia as his
wife promised calm seas ahead.

 
    
Last night had given him a taste of something
different, and he wanted it again.

 
    
“So, what are your plans?” he asked.

 
    
After several seconds, she turned, as if it
took her a moment to realize he expected an answer. “For tomorrow?”

 
    
“For our life.”

 
    
She tipped her head, her gaze traveling his
face, the glow of red, green, and blue neon reflected in her eyes. “Well, this
week, I’ll finish cleaning out my apartment and moving the rest of my things
over.”

 
    
She’d spent the night occasionally and left
her stamp on his condo with a few personal items, but they hadn’t lived
together. “Then what?”

 
    
She tipped her head the other way, as if
she were seeing him for the first time and couldn’t figure out who he was. “You
mean like when am I going to plan our first dinner party?”

 
    
She’d make an exceptional hostess. In her
professional life, she was executive assistant to the CEO of a major customer
for his company. Which meant she managed her boss’s life with the same aplomb
he expected she’d manage his. Another reason he’d married her. She’d be an
asset to his career and his social life, which were one and the same. Since his
divorce three years ago, he never did anything without a business goal in mind.

 
    
Until now. “I was referring to something
more global. Such as, are you going to quit your job?”

 
    
She stared at him. After making love, she’d
gone into the bathroom and repaired her makeup, fixing the hair and face she
wore for the outside world. Her lipstick was perfect; even the sips of
champagne hadn’t removed it. “I thought we discussed this, Brett, and we
decided I’d keep my job. I don’t know what I’d do with myself all day if I
wasn’t working.”

 
    
Well, she could take care of him. He’d
never been taken care of by a woman. With his ex-wife, he’d done the
caretaking. He’d spent a lot of energy trying to manage her moods. In addition
to her serenity, her competence, her single-mindedness and her efficiency,
Virginia didn’t have moods. Thank God.

 
    
“I didn’t expect that you’d quit. I just
want you to know you can if you like. It’s up to you. You can do whatever you
like, Virginia. I want this marriage to bring you a sense of freedom you’ve
never had before. Marriage doesn’t mean a loss of freedom for either of us. I
want you to indulge yourself in any way you choose.” Beneath the robe, his cock
stirred to life with thoughts of how he’d like her to indulge herself.