Secret Invitation: Tempted By Pleasure Part 10

"You're one word away from revocation," I warn.

He takes a swing, and I duck. I grab his jacket lapel and start dragging him toward the foyer. "You're worried about Phyllis disclosing club secrets, but you're more of a security risk." After we get to the front doors, I let go. "Get out."

"No."

I open the door. "Out."

Kevin and the doormen wait for my signal.

"Consider yourself on probation," I say. "Do you want me to call a cab?"

"Screw you, Wagner." He shoves me.

I smack his chest, knocking him outside. He slips on the first step and rolls down the stairs. I rub the back of my neck.

"Kevin?"

"I'm here."

"Get him out of my sight."

I'm beyond frustrated with the whole series of events tonight. First Erin, now a.s.shole making p.i.s.s-poor Fight Club parodies, which happens to be one of my favorite movies. Just as I'm about to retreat to the library, I remember my mask. I must have dropped it on the floor. s.h.i.t.

Erin Jeffrey has proven to be a great listener, another perfect score on his report card. So far, I see nothing wrong with this man. He's hot, funny, ubers.e.xy, communicative, and completely wrong for me. I couldn't keep up with him if I tried.

"I'm sorry I ran away. It's just . . ."

"What?"

He's sitting on the stone bench behind me, watching me pace. "I've never witnessed something so-so-so intense and carnal."

"So natural?"

I gaze at him. "That's another way to put it."

"Listen." He crosses his legs. "You've been invited to join the club for a reason."

"Are you on the board of directors?"

"Maybe." He grins, so self-a.s.sured. "Where else can I live out my dreams without getting into trouble? Eventually you'll find your comfort zone, discover what's acceptable to you. No one has the right to force you to do anything, Erin. But when you're ready, I'd like you to consider me."

"We just met." I'm surprised he'd be interested, especially after seeing him interact with Dinah and Jessica.

"In an environment like this, it only takes one look to figure out what I want. You were staring at me in the reception room."

I think my heart just stopped. "Yes." I can't deny it. "You remind me of someone I know."

"Who?"

"It doesn't matter." G.o.d, I have Foster Wagner brain really bad. He needs to get the h.e.l.l out of my head.

"What turns you on?"

Nothing. Everything. You. "I don't know." I don't want to share my private thoughts. Nothing screams run away like virgin girl.

"Prefer traditional lovemaking?"

"Yes, please."

He chuckles. "Will you trust me to show you a few things?"

"Here?"

"No. Inside." He offers his hand and I take it, feeling better.

We bypa.s.s the reception area and he takes me to a cozy den with a billiard table. He walks to a floor-to-ceiling entertainment unit and opens the cabinets. It's a wet bar with a granite countertop, sink, and fully stocked shelves.

"Have a preference?"

"Something strong."

"And sweet?"

I bite down on my lower lip, knowing he means me. "Pick."

He takes down vodka, Bailey's Irish cream, and Kahlua. "The secret to a screaming o.r.g.a.s.m is expensive vodka," he says. "The cheap stuff makes the Bailey's curdle."

The secret to any o.r.g.a.s.m is what I witnessed earlier. After he finishes, he delivers a shot gla.s.s to me. "I've never tasted one before."

"Drink it fast so you don't choke."

Oh G.o.d, are we even talking about the same thing? I hold the gla.s.s up, examining its contents. "Aren't you having one, too?"

"I prefer Cognac."

My father drinks brandy and smokes a cigar every night after dinner, part of the southern gentleman routine. I roll the liquid around in the gla.s.s and steal another look at Jeffrey. Too confident, too handsome, too willing. I bet he f.u.c.ks anything that walks through the front doors. I have to keep reminding myself I'm part of it now.

"Swallow," he urges.

It burns my throat, but it's thick and sweet. I hand him the empty gla.s.s and close my eyes, letting the effects of the alcohol take over. I've never been a partier, so three drinks is a lot for me in one night.

"Be right back, sweetheart."

Where is he going? I stand up, and nearly fall over. Wow. I bet he gave me double everything. That was a supersized gla.s.s. After I'm steady on my feet, I kick off my heels and explore the bookshelves on the other side of the room. Half the leather-bound editions are covered in light dust. Why do rich people insist on stocking shelves with books they never read? I find a 1937 edition Of Mice and Men and reverently open it. It's in perfect condition.

A few minutes later, nearby voices snap me back to reality and I return the book. Dinah and Jessica are with Jeffrey.

"Didn't mean to keep you waiting, sweetheart." He looks amused.

"I was enjoying the-"

"Erin!" Dinah throws herself at me.

I retreat a step, feeling a little intimidated by her enthusiasm for me. Then she cups my breast.

"Punish her, spank her," Jeffrey encourages.

Is he crazy? "No."

"Then kiss her. Now."

Dinah's eyelashes flutter and she throws me her best Botox pout. "Um . . ."

"How cute, she's shy." Dinah giggles. "Let me show you."

She drags Jessica in front of me, cups her face between her hands, and slants her mouth over hers. There's no tongue involved, but she lingers, tickling Jessica's bottom. If I said my body didn't respond, I'd be a liar. Something tingles, somewhere. I'm breathless as she backs away.

"Did you like it?" Jeffrey is next to me now, his eyes probing me for answers.

"Maybe?"

"Do it again, Dinah."

She slips Jessica her tongue this time, effectively silencing me.

Dinah gets my vote as too hot to handle. Sensual in every way I'm not, someone must have temporarily lost their b.l.o.o.d.y mind by inviting me to join this collection of privileged s.e.x fiends.

"Erin?" Jeffrey sounds concerned.

"I'm fine, just wasn't prepared for another show."

He nods as if he understands. "How about this?" He slides around Dinah, tugs me close, and claims my mouth.

Hot and sweet, I'm on fire as his tongue tickles the roof of my mouth. He groans, deepening the kiss, anchoring me tighter against his hard body.

Breathe, Erin, f.u.c.king breathe.

I didn't expect to get physical this fast. Apparently my body has ulterior motives, because I can't resist. When he breaks away, my mind spins.

"Better?" He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, his gaze smoldering. "Did you like it?"

My p.u.s.s.y just did a somersault. "Yes?"

"Are you asking me?" He looks insulted.

"Incredible."

He smiles. "I'd like to taste you again." He traces my bottom lip with his finger. "And here." His hand drops to my crotch.

I meet his gaze and he lifts my hair off my shoulder. "I bet you have a beautiful little p.u.s.s.y."

The sound of my breathing fills the air. He's been disarming me little by little, using Dinah and Jessica to help. My gaze zigzags around the room and wild ideas whirl through my mind. Say something. "I'm sure that can be arranged."

His eyes dim. "When?"

Yes, I've fantasized about this. Yes, I'd f.u.c.k him. And yes, he reminds me of Foster. "Halloween."

"Is that a guarantee?"

"Maybe," I say, knowing I can't really commit to anything. "It's time for me to go home now." I've endured enough stimulation, ventured further than I ever dreamed possible. I need a hot chocolate, my warm bed, and a good book to regain control.

"I'm disappointed, Erin."

"Don't be," I say. "You've made a lasting impression."

He studies me for a long moment. "Before I walk you to the front doors, I'd like to stop a couple places first."

I agree, and he escorts me out of the den and down another hallway. "Welcome to the gallery," he says, taking my arm.

My gaze wanders freely, discovering hooks and ropes hanging from the ceiling. Then I notice a naked woman on all fours, gagged and tethered to the floor. A man with a paddle is standing behind her, and I stare unblinking, completely fascinated. It doesn't faze me when the paddle connects with her a.s.s and her muted cries sound. Her partner strikes her again and again. I edge closer, eyeing the red angry welts on her pale cheeks. She writhes and cries, surging backward, seeming to beg for more.

Excitement rushes through me, nearly as intense as what I felt watching Catalina. But in here, where only a few people are watching, I feel more comfortable. It's like a scene from one of the novels I've read in secret.

There's more, and Jeffrey catches my hand. "This way," he whispers.

In the corner, a woman is strapped to a wall by her ankles, thighs, wrists, and neck. A couple stops in front of her. The woman selects a riding crop from a collection hanging on the wall and whips her thighs, hard. The restrained woman screams, her pleasure sweet and painful. Now the man kisses her.

"An established team," Jeffrey explains. "Elise is their submissive."

I nod in acknowledgement, completely inspired by their undaunted display of l.u.s.t and affection. His fingers wander down Elise's front, pinching her nipples, then continue lower, until he thrusts a finger inside her.

"Do you want to come, Elise?" he asks.

"Yes." She can barely speak.

"Ask," the woman commands.

"May I come, mistress?"

The woman grips the riding crop in her right hand and thrusts the handle between Elise's thighs. Her hips buck and she tosses her head back, her o.r.g.a.s.m fast to follow.

"You enjoy watching."

"Yes," I admit, facing Jeffrey. I see the arousal in his eyes. "I never knew."

"How could you, you've never been given a chance to tap into your own sensuality. Whatever happens here is mutually agreed upon. Some teams have been together for years."

"Like you, Jessica, and Dinah?"