Taste of Pleasure

by Lisa Renee Jones

  They passed erotic paintings illuminated with spotlights, Greek paintings of men and women engaging in the nature of pleasure, and he watched her face, watched her gaze stroking the images, aware of how much he wanted her body stroking his cock. How much he wanted inside this woman—wanted her begging for orgasm because he made her want it as much as he did, which was too much, yes, far too much for comfort. He felt the difference in himself with her, knew his desire for Kim reached beyond arousal, beyond the protectiveness he felt for anyone he took into the Society games.

  He drew her passed a sealed entryway and into a narrow room where a unique piece of history was displayed: a re-creation of a famous Egyptian tapestry that was ten inches high and covered 8.5 feet of the wall inside a custom frame.

  “Amazing,” she whispered, her eyes wide with wonder, as she pulled away from him to walk the length of it. “The Turin Erotic Papyrus.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Eleven-fifty B.C.E…. and considered the first men’s magazine by many.” She turned back to the artwork. “Twelve erotic images of men and women in various sexual positions followed by a series of animals depicted performing human comical nonsexual tasks.”

  He wasn’t surprised she knew of the tapestry, not after witnessing her interest in history through their talks in the bookstore. “Sex and comedy,” he said, stepping to her side. “Sounds like entertainment to me, not so unlike what we consider it to be today.”

  “Sex and comedy,” she repeated, giving him a thoughtful sideways glance. “Those are your two forms of entertainment?”

  “You have something against sex and comedy?” he challenged.

  “I’m just not sure I’d define sex as entertainment.”

  He turned to face her, and she did the same. “Then how do you define sex?”

  She considered that a moment. “I don’t know how to answer that.”

  Her reply confirmed what he’d suspected. She’d never fully explored her sexuality, never truly been pleasured, perhaps never allowed herself to delve into her wants and needs. “Sex is pleasure, and pleasure can be whatever you, as a person, define it to be.”

  Insecurity flashed in her expression before her chin lifted. “I’d say I have too little information to properly define what pleasure is to me.”

  Something raw and primal inside him mingled with something unfamiliar, something that tightened his chest, something he didn’t want to feel. Suddenly eager to bring the night into proper focus, to remind himself, and her, that tonight was about pleasure—the kind he was now quite certain she’d never experienced—Blake pulled Kim into his arms. Molded her body to his, his hand firmly sliding over her lower back and the curve of her lush backside.

  “Do you know why I brought you here tonight?” he asked her, a rough edge to his voice from the pure need for this woman.

  She swallowed, her hands settling on his chest, and searing him with her touch. He didn’t remember the last time a simple touch had thickened his cock and expanded his zipper, but he was thick and pulsing. He was downright urgent in his need for Kim—sweet little Kim who had no idea how sexy she was.

  “Something about sensual exploration, if I remember correctly,” she replied, her voice soft, feminine, arousing.

  “That’s right,” he agreed, his thumbs stroking her cheeks, his eyes brushing her invitingly parted lips. “When we travel beyond the doorway behind me, every room holds an erotic treasure, a little bit darker, a little bit more erotic.” He began to lower his head, his pulse chasing hot blood through his veins. “And we will get to know each other just a little bit more.” He brushed his lips over hers, forcing himself to hold back, to take things slowly. “Discover each other a little more intimately.” He slanted his mouth over hers, tasting her deeply, his tongue caressing hers in a long sensual glide. She moaned into his mouth, and he swallowed the delicate, erotic sound, deepening the kiss even further, and then nipping her bottom lip.

  “We only go as far as you want to go, Kimberly. At any time, all you have to do is say you want to stop, you want to go back. That includes now. Say the word, and we’ll join the public event, and leave the exploration for someone else.”

  Chapter Three

  Kim didn’t want to leave the exploration for someone else. She didn’t want to leave Blake for someone else. Kissing him had stirred a deep need in her, a need that superseded nerves, though she still had an abundance of those, for sure. She blinked up at Blake, stared into his heated gaze, and though she wasn’t quite sure what to expect in the next room, or even the next, she had to know. She had to be bigger than her inhibitions.

  “I’ve never been one to run from a good treasure hunt,” she said finally. Her hand rested on Blake’s chest, and she could feel his heart charge into action at her words, telling her he liked what she’d said, telling her he wasn’t as composed and cool as he appeared. It expanded her confidence, and she added, “Lead the way.”

  A slow smile slid onto his lips, and something rawly sexual flickered across his face before he drew her hand to his mouth. The touch of his lips sent a shiver down her spine, then a tingle up her legs to the V of her body. She was wet from a simple kiss, a touch, a promise of more—needy like she’d never been needy before, and the man had barely touched her. Maybe it was years of repressed sexuality, maybe it was simply that Blake was the man who stirred the woman in her. She didn’t care which it was. She didn’t want to think enough to care. Because thinking came with consequences, with reasons not to do this, and she wished to have no part of either, not tonight, not with Blake.

  He led her toward the doorway, her heart thundering in her chest, and suddenly her thinking kicked in. What if she’d misjudged him? What if there were whips and chains, and leather awaited and… He opened the door and backed inside, tugging her with him, then surprised her by pulling her close before she could fully see the room. A low rumble of male laughter filled her ears, his strong hand running down her bare back.

  “Relax,” he urged, his fingers playing with one of her many curls. “You look like you’re about to have a heart attack.” He leaned in and kissed her neck, nibbling near her ear and then slowly turned her to face the room. “We’re alone. Just you, me and the art.” His hard body framed hers, his hand on her stomach. “This is a private showing where you and I are the only spectators.”

  Somehow, Kim blinked the room into view, a room filled with erotic sculptures and paintings—all of Egyptian heritage. There were no chains or leather, and really it had been silly to think there would be. This man was most definitely a tie-you-down-with-silk-and-seduction kind of guy, if she judged him correctly.

  “Calmer now?” he queried softly.

  Calmer? She didn’t think so. Not unless you called the growing ache between her legs and the tightness in her nipples calm, which she didn’t. But he was talking about her nerves. “A little.”

  He chuckled deep and low, sexy. “At least you’re honest.” He moved to face her again, his hands on her waist. “I don’t bite, I promise.” His lips curved with mischief. “Not hard.” He motioned her forward. “Let me tell you about the art. Or you tell me about it. You seem to have quite a knack for history.”

  She nodded, recognizing and appreciating his efforts to ease her nerves and take things slow. He led her to the first statue of a naked woman feeding a man grapes. A series of similar sculptures followed. He touched her often as they toured two similar rooms—held her hand, stroked her arm, settled his hand on her waist—sending warm sensations through her body. Even more so, because somehow she knew he was getting her used to him touching her, somehow turning the areas of her body that she wouldn’t think of as sexual—like her elbow, her wrist, the small of her back—into highly sexual places. All the while he chatted about the art, the way it had been brought to the museum, the role he’d played.

  The fourth room surprised her, set her heart pounding. It was a small room, not bigger than a hotel check-in booth, with a huge glass window displaying a room with a red, silk-co
vered bed. A woman was on top—a live, flesh-and-blood woman, who was completely naked. Her hair was blond, her lips bright red to match the sheets. She lay with her back arched, her breasts thrust forward, her legs parted. She was touching herself, and to Kim’s shock, she could see a roomful of people in stadiumlike seating on the opposite side of the glass room, watching the woman.

  Blake led her to the window and stepped behind her. “Self-pleasure is an art of its own.” His hands covered hers and pressed them to her ribcage, right above her stomach, then slid them upward, over her breasts—her hands, his hands. “Don’t you agree?”

  Kim bit back a moan, aroused, but worried the group of people or another group might be watching her…them. “Blake. I—” He stroked her nipples with a combination of her fingers and his. Her womb clenched, her teeth dug into her bottom lip. “Wait, we…I don’t want them—”

  “They can’t see us,” he said near her ear, and then trailed his lips down her shoulder. “Only the woman can see us.” His used his teeth to slide her strap off her shoulder.

  “This isn’t like any art gallery I’ve ever visited,” she whispered.

  His fingers slid her second strap down her arm, his teeth nipped the delicate skin where it had been. “This one is owned by a private, members-only club called the Society. None of the invitation-only guests enter the private showing rooms like this one unless they’re with a Master in the Society.”

  She swallowed hard, realization washing over her—he was telling her he was a Master, and she knew just enough to envision leather and whips again. She should be running. Why was she barely containing the urge to lean back and press herself against him? “You’re a Master.”

  “That’s right,” he agreed.

  “And that means?” She sounded breathless even to her own ears.

  “It means,” he said, his voice low, etched with a gravelly quality, “I’ll see to your pleasure and mine, but you have to be willing to give yourself to the experience, and to me.” He turned her to face him, pressed her back against the window. Framed her legs with his, and pressed his hands to the side of her head on the window. He wasn’t touching her. She wanted him to touch her, wanted it in a desperate way. She could barely breathe. The man was pure male power and sexuality, and she wanted him.

  His hands went to the window above her, his body pressed away from hers. “Or you can tell me to stop, and I’ll take you home. So…stay or go?”

  Her heart skipped a beat. This would be so much easier if he’d just kissed her and seduced her into agreement. He was making her do what she’d never done before—claim her pleasure, her sexuality, her experience. Yet, he was also offering her the chance to let him take control, to let him guide her. Remarkably, she’d never felt as sexy, as sensual, as she did in that moment. This incredible man not only wanted her, he was giving her the perfect combination of give and take, exactly everything she wanted and needed.

  “Stay,” she said. “I want to stay.”

  Chapter Four

  Kim had barely said the word stay when Blake tangled his hand in her hair and pulled her close, drawing her lips a breath from his. “I know this world is new to you,” he said. “Trust me, and I’ll show you the pleasure it can bring you, the freedom it grants you. No fear, no inhibitions. I want you to know what that feels like. I want to be the one who gives it to you.”

  “Yes,” she whispered. “I want that. I—”

  He kissed her, a long, devouring kiss that had her panting for more. When he touched her, when he kissed her—she was lost. He shoved her dress down, exposing her breasts, teasing one of her nipples and then pulling back to look at her. “Beautiful.”

  The way he looked at her made her feel exposed, aroused…beautiful. His eyes met hers, his hands covering hers. “Show me how you want me to touch you.” Again, he slid her hands to her breasts, encouraging her to touch herself. She moaned as his fingers slid between hers, playing with her nipples.

  “Look at me,” he commanded and the instant she did, he brushed his lips over hers, then tugged roughly on her nipple. “Now you do it.”

  She obeyed, and bit back a moan at the tension in his face, the obvious heat. He brushed her hands away and filled his palms with her breasts, pressing them together and using his fingers to tease the stiff, sensitive peaks. Her head touched the glass behind her, and her knees went weak.

  “Turn around,” he said softly. “I want you to see how erotic watching can be so you know what it does to me to watch you.” He ran his hands down her waist and slowly turned her to the glass.

  Kim gasped at what she saw. There was a man lying on the red, silk sheet now, with two gorgeous, voluptuous blondes pressed to his side, touching him, kissing him. He was gorgeous, with dark hair, and a body as hard as his jutted cock, which one of the women was running her hand over. A man was made for sex. Like Blake, she thought, some warning in her head starting to sound, but she couldn’t quite get her head around what it was.

  Blake’s hand settled on her stomach, pulled her backside against his hips, and she could feel his erection, feel he, too, was hard, ready. “Does it turn you on to watch them?” he asked.

  “I don’t…know…I…no, I—” He unzipped her dress, and she forgot what she’d been about to say. The other man’s gaze went to her, raked over her breasts with a lusty inspection. Her body reacted of its own accord, clenching with arousal, as she whispered what she already knew. “They can see us.”

  Blake shoved her dress down her hips, nipped her neck. “Yes. They can see us.” He caressed her breast. “The man is Marcus, the head of the Society. He doesn’t participate in the public games but he wanted to know what woman enticed me into an invitation here tonight, when I so rarely issue one. He came for you, Kim. Does it turn you on to know he’s watching you? That you can watch him?”

  Yes. “Blake…”

  He pinched her nipples roughly, and she moaned as pleasure and pain ripped through her and collided in pure ecstasy. “Does it turn you on?” he repeated.

  “Yes,” she hissed. “Yes, it does.”

  “Good,” he said, turning her head enough to kiss her lips. “One rule here. We’re honest about what we like and what we don’t like. Understood?”

  There was a commanding hardness to his voice that she’d never heard, but somehow liked. “Yes.”

  “Good.” He went down to his knees and slid her panties down her hips, urging her to step out of them and the dress. Both of the women behind the glass were now leaning over Marcus, taking turns licking his cock. And Marcus watched Kim. Now that she knew he’d come to see her, to be a part of her adventure, she found his interest both more intimidating and more erotic. Somehow, he seemed like a test, and for some reason she wanted to pass it, to belong here, where Blake belonged. And so Kim watched Marcus, as well—watched him and refused to let herself look away. That was until Blake’s fingers slid between her legs, over the slick, wet proof of just how much this was turning her on. Her knees went weak, and Kim pressed her hands to the window, steadying herself from falling, exposing herself all the more to the man behind the glass and the man between her legs, stroking her, exploring her.

  “Open for me, wider,” Blake said, pressing her legs apart, his teeth scraping her cheek. “I want to taste you.”

  Suddenly, he had his back against the window she faced, his lips pressed to her stomach. It was all she could do not to press his head down, put him where she wanted him. She forgot Marcus and his women. Forgot everything but how much she needed Blake.

  His mouth came down on her, suckling her clitoris even as his fingers worked magic. What followed were licks and caresses of his tongue that had her shaking with the embarrassingly fast rise of orgasm. She tried to hold back, but it just…felt…so good. She shattered, exploded in what could only be called a level-ten eruption that ended with her already-wobbling knees giving out on her.

  Blake caught her before she fell and kissed her stomach, his eyes dark as he stared up at her. Som
ething passed between them in the seconds that followed, something she felt with more intensity than her level-ten orgasm—a connection beyond the physical. So intense, in fact, that for a few seconds, she forgot to be shy about being naked when he wasn’t, forgot Marcus and his women. There was only her and Blake, and this raw emotion she wasn’t sure what to do with.

  Oh, God. She was falling for Blake, had been for a long time. That’s why she’d come tonight. But Blake was about sex, the kind that included sharing. And no matter how much she enjoyed what had just happened, even feeling drawn to Marcus, it was Blake she wanted. She couldn’t keep it just about sex. It was too late for that with him. She reached for her dress. She had to get out of here before he figured out how wrong she was for this “world” as he called it.

  Chapter Five

  A week had passed since Kim had melted for him in the gallery and then bolted, and Blake had stayed away long enough. It was near eight in the evening, when he knew her store would be closing, and he was headed in her direction. Walking from the hospital where he’d showered and changed to jeans, boots and T-shirt, he’d had a grueling eight hours of surgery that had ended with yet another blast of thinking of Kim. This couldn’t go on. He couldn’t allow himself to be this distracted, or sooner or later, it was going to impact him in the operating room.

  With a predatory stride, he closed the distance between himself and her, thinking of that night in the gallery, of how he’d watched her dress while fighting the urge to pull her back into his arms and take her right there and then. He’d seen the vulnerability in her, seen her hope that he’d stop her from leaving. But she’d been spooked, and truth be told, so had he—and he still was. Kim stirred something inside him, something raw and hungry, that didn’t compare to what he’d felt in the past. And he’d been plenty raw and hungry, many times.