The girls separated. Montana sprinkled Julia’s nipples with the salt and then licked and sucked one of them, kissing Julia long and hard, both their hands roaming. Julia and Montana then grabbed shots of tequila and downed them, holding up the glasses in celebration.
The crowd cheered and started chanting. “Another! Another!” Their energy swelled, and Brad was jostled by a push of bodies behind him.
Where the fuck is Janine? He looked around but didn’t see her. Montana shouldn’t be drinking, though he could probably see how this had happened, and cursed himself for taking too long with Alexis. Finding a black-shirted security guard, he yelled into his ear, trying to make himself heard over the crowd. “Did Montana get approval to drink?”
“Yeah. Janine gave her an hour of drinking, then said she’d need to go home—no working afterward.”
“All right. Make sure the crowd stays under control and doesn’t mess with the girls.”
“You got it, boss. Ricky’s keeping an eye from the other side. Right now everyone’s behaving.”
Brad looked back to the two girls. Montana was pulling Julia’s dress over her head, exposing her tanned, toned stomach and a lace thong that left nothing to the imagination. He groaned, the image pulling at his recently restored composure.
“Want me to get you in there, boss? I can move these guys outta the way.”
It was tempting, but... “No. Let them play. I’ll watch from the upper level. Montana knows the rules.” He turned and moved quietly through the crowd and climbed a flight of stairs to what they considered the VIP level. He walked about halfway down and then sat in a chair. The tables up there were in private alcoves, and he felt as alone as he could in the packed club at 1:00 a.m. He pulled out his cell and called the line for HQ.
“Yes, Mr. D.” A calm, nasally voice came over the line. Brad smiled to himself. Saffire’s HQ. Where horny nerds came to die.
“Yes, I’m in VIP section...” He craned around to see the number discreetly painted on the wall, high up, out of normal view. “Section eight. I’m gonna kill power to this cam. Didn’t want you to be alarmed.”
“Understood, Mr. D. We can kill power from here if you want?”
“No, I’ll do it. That way you’ll know when I’m done.”
“Sounds good, Mr. D. Is there a party planned for later?”
“Not tonight. Make sure everyone knows.”
“Will do. Thanks, boss.”
Brad stood, moved the chair over to the wall and stood on it. He reached in his pocket for his key ring, shuffled through till he found the security master and stuck it into the wall, turning the cam switch to the off position. He sat back down and watched the action below. Julia was now straddling Montana. They were kissing passionately, their hands traveling everywhere.
* * *
Montana lifted her mouth off my neck, her eyes flashing. I grinned down at her, my hands on her large breasts. I had never held another woman’s boobs before. Mine were small, barely B cups, but Montana’s were huge—and natural, I assumed. The skin on them was so incredibly soft, and the weight of them was heavy in my hands. Her nipples were light pink, like mine, and I touched them the way I liked mine touched—softly.
The cries of the men surrounding us energized me. That, and the three—or was it four?—shots of tequila we had taken, on top of all the drinks I’d had earlier in the evening. Everywhere I looked, I saw aroused faces, eyes watching us. It was the feeling of power I got from teasing, but multiplied times ten, turning me on to a degree I had never reached. My eyes danced over the crowd, then to the spinning dancers, then up, passing and then focusing on a man. Brad.
He stood on an upper balcony, his eyes locked on mine. Even with the expanse of the room between us, I could feel his hunger, his heat, and it poured gasoline on the fire that was my arousal. I wanted to show him everything in that moment. That I could be bad. That I wasn’t the good girl that he kept painting me out to be. The room spun, and I focused on Montana’s face to bring it still. I reached for her, our lips meeting, tongues dipping together, hands traveling. I fought the urge to look up at him, knowing he was watching, that all of them were watching. She was like a beautiful exotic flower—all the best things about a girl—soft skin, long hair and yummy scents. I could understand why men went to strip clubs. It was as if the most popular girl at school was your best friend for an hour.
Montana stood, climbing up on the chair, and I sat back on the round table, my face now close to being between her legs. She reached down and grabbed the bottle of Cristal that had been chilling next to us. Pulling the cork out with her teeth, she cheered, holding the bottle high in the air. The crowd and I instantly responded, throwing hands up into the air in celebration. Then she told me to lean back. I did, resting on my arms and arching my back, my breasts held up to the sky and in full glory of the fifty-some men who were surrounding us, some standing on chairs in order to see better. Montana let the champagne rain and it hit me, cool and sweet, splattering my neck, hitting the swell of my breasts, running down my stomach. My nipples instantly responded to the cold liquid bubbles, puckering and standing at attention. Montana laid me back and began to lick it off, her tongue making magic happen on my skin.
Twenty-Two
Rule 4: Her pleasure is the most important objective.
I woke up in a strange bed. I lay there, the room dark, and tried to figure out where I was. I reached out: sheets covered in a heavy down comforter, feather pillows underneath my head. I felt skin—a hand, big. Brad.
I sat up, the quick movement causing a sharp pain in my temple. “Ohhh,” I groaned. Brad’s hand twitched under mine, and I moved my hand off his, slowly pulling the covers back and sliding out. My mouth was like dry cotton, and I felt my way quietly through the suite to the bathroom, where I reluctantly turned on the light, wincing against the searing brightness. Fumbling through my toiletries bag, I found the small aspirin bottle I had packed, and shook out two pills. I stuffed them in my mouth and took a big swig of water from a glass I filled at the tap, then turned out the light. Padding back to the bedroom, my eyes adjusting to the dark, I saw the outline of Brad sitting up in bed.
“That you?” I whispered stupidly.
“Yeah. You feeling okay?”
“Not really.”
He chuckled and patted the bed next to him. “Lie back down.” I chugged the rest of the water, ignored the water that missed my mouth, and shakily set the glass down on the nightstand. I crawled into bed and turned away from him, curling into a pitiful ball. He reached his hand out and cupped my waist, dragging me until I was flush against his hard body. He kissed the back of my neck. “Go to sleep,” he whispered.
“I hate alcohol,” I mumbled.
“Shhh...” he said. I didn’t hear anything else after that.
* * *
I woke up hot and sticky to an annoyingly high-pitched screaming sound. I looked around groggily, the only light coming from the TV, which was on. A yellow square cartoon was screaming incessantly, a loud feminine sound interrupted by short pauses. The video seemed to be stuck on some sort of repeat. The sound went on and on until another character finally interrupted the screams. I flopped over and tried to go back to sleep. Then the same annoying cartoon started laughing, a continual braying laugh that scraped at my subconscious. I scrambled through the covers and grabbed the remote, pressing buttons until the screen, and the room, thankfully went dark. Ugh. I did a self-analysis and found that I wasn’t that badly off. I was hot, but that was easily fixed; sticky—where did that come from?—and my head was pounding, but not at an intolerable level.
I found Brad, eight short steps later, in the dining room, the phone to his ear and the paper spread out in front of him. I gave him a halfhearted wave and collapsed in the closest dining room chair. He stood, still on the phone, and poured me a glass of orange juice, whi
ch I grabbed and gulped with glee. Fresh squeezed and ice-cold.
He looked shower-fresh and gorgeous, and not at all suffering. Damn man. He wrapped up his phone call with a few more “uh-huhs” and “okays,” and then hung up. He tapped his fingers on the table and looked at me. I swung my legs and looked everywhere but at him. I felt like I had done something wrong, but wasn’t sure what.
“So...” he said, drawing it out. “Are you hungry?”
I frowned, pondering the question. I felt thirsty, but not necessarily hungry. “Depends.”
“On what, pray tell?”
“What the plan for today is.”
“Well—” He consulted his watch, a Patek Philippe. “It’s 10:00 a.m. now. I have an errand to run off the Strip that will probably take a few hours. I thought maybe we could grab breakfast, then I could do my stuff and you could do whatever you want to do, and then we could meet back up around two-thirty. Our flight leaves at six. We should probably start heading to the airport around 4:00 p.m.”
“What kind of errand?”
He fixed me with a steady look. “A personal one.”
“Can I come?”
He tilted his head, thinking. “I guess so. It won’t be all that exciting. Let’s eat and then you can decide.”
“Not exciting” was starting to sound pretty good to me. I felt as if I had been in Vegas a month with all that had happened. I stood up and headed to the bathroom. “I’ll take a shower and get dressed.”
I walked into the bathroom and turned on all the jets in the shower. I was wearing a pair of worn pajama pants and a T-shirt—the most modest of the nightwear I had packed. I frowned, looking down at it. I didn’t even remember putting it on last night. I undressed, turned off all the lights and stepped into the shower. Sometimes I loved showering in the dark. One reason, it helped my hangover headache to not have a blaring light shining down on me. But it also left me alone with my thoughts. I stepped forward, under the rain head, and let the hot water hit my face, the tiny streams feeling like heaven. I tried to let the tension and stress flow out of my body with the water, to focus on my thoughts and try to remember the night before, but I could only think of one thing: Brad. Him in the next room. Me naked in here. Yesterday, his mouth waking me up, the incredible pleasure created by his tongue, the waves of pleasure...
I tapped my fingers on the wall and tried to think rationally. I was horny, a feeling that had rarely, if ever, occurred. I think it took the act of having an orgasm for me to recognize sex for what it was supposed to be. Carnal pleasure. Need fulfillment. Not just a power play, or an expected obligation. Fuck. My epiphany was coming at an inopportune time. I thought for a moment, ridiculous justifications filling my head. The truth lay out there, stark and unavoidable. I wanted him. So badly that my fingers were finding their way downward on their own accord, fantasies pushing uninvited into my mind. All of Brad’s words from the other night, his argument for casual, unattached sex bombarded my weak resolve. Damn. I opened the door, a wave of steam blowing out, cool air hitting my naked skin as I left the shower. I walked, soaking wet, to the entrance to the living room. Maybe this is a mistake. I took a deep breath and stepped out.
* * *
Brad was on the phone again, trying to explain custodial rights regarding relocation to one of his paralegals, when Julia appeared from the bedroom. Dripping wet, her skin tanned, her body flushed and perky from the shower’s heat, she looked like every wet dream he’d ever had as a teenager. Her hair slicked back and her face makeup-free, she also looked very young and innocent. His dick twitched in his pants, and he felt it start to harden.
“Debbie, I have to go.”
“But—”
“Later. I’ll call you back.” He ended the call and stood up abruptly. Julia’s eyes shifted to his crotch, and he moved to cover his erection, but it was too late. Her mouth curved into a knowing smile and confidence grew in her eyes. She knew she had him.
* * *
Hesitantly, I stood in the doorway, my confidence wavering as I waited for Brad to look up from his call. I was losing my nerve when he saw me and started to stand, ending his call. He stood erect and I saw the firm outline of his dick in his dress pants. He wants me. I gave him a saucy smile and slowly spun, running my wet hands down the curve of my back, and walked back to the shower, willing him to follow me.
* * *
Brad breathed hard, trying to decide what to do. Every bone in his body, especially that one, wanted to follow her. Wanted to be selfish, to own her with his body. But at what price? What stock would she put in the act? She had never had casual sex, may not be able to separate emotion from the act. He couldn’t afford another love-struck intern, another office scandal, more judgment from Broward and Clarke. Plus, he didn’t want to destroy her vacation and purity in one moment of weakness. He should be stronger than that, should have the willpower to resist one sexy-as-hell woman. But the image of her waiting, wanting, her body ready for him, barricaded his senses, twisted his morals and demolished any sensibility left in his head. He finally cursed under his breath and set his phone down. He’d face the music if he had to—it would be worth it to have her, if even just once. And he would just have to hope and pray she took it for what it was—carnal pleasure, and nothing else.
* * *
I flipped the switch, bathing the bathroom in soft indirect light. I met him outside the shower door, grabbing his shirt collar the moment he walked over the threshold. I pressed my wet body against him and he cursed. His mouth was quickly on mine, taking me by force, as if by desperation, his large hands everywhere—on my slick ass, around my tiny waist, cupping my tender breasts and squeezing. I had a huge and growing need in between my legs, pounding so hard I could hardly think of anything else, any thoughts of stopping fleeing my mind. I ripped hard at his dress shirt, popping buttons and tearing it open so that I could see his tanned chest, thinly covered in dark hair, huge muscles under my palms. My hands ran down his stomach and grabbed hard at his pants and belt, pulling them away from his body, trying to reach down into his pants. He kept me at bay, unbuckling his belt and dropping his pants to the ground, his athletic briefs the only thing covering his cock. It now stuck almost straight out. I scrambled, need overtaking me, and grabbed the top of his briefs and pulled down, his cock popping out, and I gasped, amazed at the size and shape of it. It was the biggest cock I had ever seen, thick and tan colored, meaty. The head was swollen, but not too big, in perfect proportion to his shaft. I worried, seeing its girth, that I wouldn’t be able to take it, that it would break me in half, ruin me forever.
He grabbed my waist hard, and lifted me up. Automatically, I wrapped my legs tight around him, my ass resting on the length of his stiff dick. He held me by the cheeks of my ass and carried me into the shower, his tongue fighting in perfect harmony with mine. We couldn’t get enough of each other, and I felt rabid for him.
He closed the shower door. We were in the spray of the water; it ran hot down my back. I let my feet hang and he set me down gently. Our mouths separated and we panted, breathing at each other. He cupped my face with both hands, pressing against me until my back hit the cold shower wall, and he ran one hand down my neck and body, grabbing and squeezing every part he hit, from my breasts to my stomach, to the cheek of my ass, to the cup of my sex. I panted, wanting him, but he held me back, pressed against the wall as his eyes unapologetically devoured me.
“I don’t know what to do with you,” he finally gasped, his voice gruff. He moved forward, pressing his hard body to me, and I felt his dick twitch against my leg, his mouth on my neck, sucking then biting, his need as obvious as my own.
“What do you mean? I want you. I need you to fuck me,” I gasped, my voice jagged with need, my hand reaching down, wrapping around his hard thickness, my eyes closing in overwhelming desire
“I can’t,” he ground out. “You’r
e too...you’ll be too attached. I’m not a boyfriend, Julia.”
“I don’t want a damn boyfriend. I want a cock. Your cock right now. Put it in me and fuck me.” I had steely determination in my voice and glared at him hotly.
His eyes grew dark with want. He kept one hand on the back of my neck and moved the other down to my cunt, brushing over the lips with his fingers, his gaze on mine, responding to my gasps with perfect precision. He seemed to know exactly where, when and how hard to touch me. It was ridiculously unfair, and I suddenly realized that there was no way I would ever to be able to say no to this man. Once this happened, once he took me, I would be his, in body at least. No man could possibly ever compare to this.
He put two fingers in me, bending them in such a way that almost brought me to my knees, a surge of pleasure debilitating me. He smiled at my gasp and I struggled to keep my stance, my pussy grinding uncontrollably against his fingers. My eyes shut in silent ecstasy and I bit my bottom lip.
“I thought you were a good girl,” he whispered in my ear. “Didn’t fuck unless you’re in love.”
I shook my head quickly, back and forth. “I changed my mind. I want you. I need you.” My voice now pleading.
“I can’t be what you want. You know that? This will be sex, and that’s it.” His voice rasped in my ear, his fingers moving faster and faster in my wet pussy, building my need, sliding over and over again on that incredible, wonderful place.
“I don’t want anything from you. I just need your cock. In me. Now.” My voice was coming in gasps now, my legs shaking with the intensity building between them. My eyes rolled back and I started to sink, my legs Jell-O. He pulled out his fingers, and my eyes flew open. “No—don’t stop, I was just about to—”