Heightened Desires: A Club Temptation Novella (Club Temptation Collection)

by Leigh Lennon

  Heightened Desires

  A Club Temptation Novella

  Leigh Lennon

  Contents

  Heightened Desires

  Playlist

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Epilogue

  The Club Temptation Novella Collection

  A Note to my Readers

  What I have learned along the way

  Other Books by Leigh Lennon

  It Takes a Village!

  About the Author

  Heightened Desires

  A Club Temptation Novella

  By Leigh Lennon

  HEIGHTENED DESIRES

  A CLUB TEMPTATION NOVELLA

  LEIGH LENNON

  Copyright © 2020 by LEIGH LENNON

  All Rights Reserved. This book may not be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission from the author. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. All characters and storylines are the property of the author and your support and respect are appreciated. The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Editing by Jenny Sim

  Proofreading services by Deaton Author Services

  Content Editing by Ashley Cestra

  Beta Reading: Kelly Green

  Cover Design: Kari March Designs

  Published by: Lady Boss Press, Inc.

  To My Kids

  Who make me a better human every single day.

  To Mom

  I wish you could read my books. I know I’d make you blush!

  I will miss you forever but I’m thankful for the mother you were to me for the years I had you.

  Playlist

  Britney Spears, “Everytime”

  Depeche Mode, “Master and Servant”

  Eric Church, “Hell on the Heart”

  Ellie Goulding, “Power”

  Frank Sinatra, “My Way”

  Meghan Trainor, “Workin’ On It” (Acoustic)

  Taylor Swift, “august”

  Taylor Swift, “Lover”

  The Velvet Underground & Nico, “Venus In Furs”

  Prologue

  Marcel

  The bar is busy, and I wedge myself into the crowd, my mouth watering for bourbon. This wasn't what I'd had in mind when I let my best friend's brother plan his bachelor party. My workload in Seattle has been crazy, and when the jackass begged me, I gave in—especially when the party was due to take place in Portland.

  I'm disgusted. Todd, my best friend since college, told me he'd wanted a whiskey room, and this is not it. The little brother had one fucking job and couldn't do it right. With a glance at my watch, there's one positive with this sucky bachelor's party. It's winding down, and I can go to a club I frequent when visiting Stumptown.

  A unique perfume invades my senses, and I turn to a stunning redhead, inching to the bar, and with her tiny yet curvy figure, she wiggles ahead of me. A redhead has always been a favorite. This vixen cutting in front of me causes my cock to strain against my slacks. This naughty little number needs a lesson in manners, and boy, do I want to be the one to impart it. And through all this, my mind wanders to her whole body, questioning if the carpet matches the drapes.

  "Excuse me, chéri, where do you think you're going?" This woman's fire-engine red hair is the only part of her I've seen, yet I know I won't be disappointed.

  Her hair whips in my face, and the vanilla conditioner is heavenly as I take in every bit of her aroma. I close my eyes briefly, and when I open them back up, this woman stands in front of me with her hands on her hips. Along with it, is a sneer that has my raging member sending messages to my brain to further strain against me in agony as though he's searching for her.

  The first thing that gets my attention is her youth. She's obviously of age to be allowed into this bar I'll never step foot into again, but her baby face doesn't make me want to walk away from her.

  She begins with a huff I can hear over the music playing in the background.

  "Tell me, Senior, is cherry the best you can come up with for a redhead?"

  Oh, she's a brat. This is another turn-on of mine. And she's called me out on my age. Sure, I have a little silver in my hair, but when I own women for the night, they never complain of my age. I think they are quite surprised by my vigor. And I didn’t call her cherry but chéri. That’s okay, though. I don’t correct her.

  "What would you rather me call you? Carrot Head, Fire Engine, Lobster, Rusty, Copper. I mean, I have a whole bunch more I can run by you for approval." I'm not one to embrace bratty behavior. Typically, at this point, I have them over my knee.

  "Go ahead, Gramps, with cherry." She continues to move in front of me, but I sidestep her.

  "Has anyone ever called you a brat?" I ask, the crystal of her gray eyes growing with heat.

  She shrugs. "Has anyone ever called you an asshole?"

  I lean into her, bodies bypassing us to get their next fix of alcohol at the bar, but unless she's wearing Kevlar, she has to be aware of my erection.

  "Not often, because I don't let little brats talk to me like that, but I guess you are the exception." I rebuff, and in the seconds it's taken me to say these words, my hand finds her ass. It makes the perfect little resting shelf for me.

  "And what do you do, Senior, to those who are the exception?"

  A thought occurs to me. The bachelor party's guests begin to trickle out of the private room with the party's atrocity, but we still have it reserved for the entire night.

  I reach out my hand toward her. "Why don't you follow me, and I can show you?”

  It's a risky move. I've talked to this fiery redhead for all of five minutes, but she places her hand in mine and follows me to the private room. It's empty. I lock the door behind us, sending a message to the owner—offering him a bonus for the use of the room beyond closing if needed. This, by far, will be the best part of the whole fucked-up night. And it's just beginning.

  Molly

  I have a wild streak. It's in the O'Hennessey DNA. And I want to embrace it. Hell, I've embraced it for years. Work hard. Play harder. And since I work my fucking ass off, I party my fucking ass off, too.

  I'm following the silver fox into the private room of a hallway from the main bar. I have no idea what had happened here since it's only eleven, but as we cross over the threshold, I see the room is immaculate and clean.

  He locks the door, twisting his body around, stalking toward me. I'm all for a silver fox, and underneath a simple button-up top, this man definitely doesn't sport a grandpa build. And thinking of what’s underneath makes my cheeks warm at what this night will bring.

  "What happened here?" I ask, propping myself up onto the little bar that's used for private parties. I bend over because my skintight black number gives him a little peek of the girls barely hidden by my scoop neck.

  Pulling a chair out from a table, he sits back, his gaze on the girls. He twists his attention back to me
to answer my question.

  "The most fucking boring bachelor’s party known to mankind. It was a bust, but the groom did thank me, saying quote-unquote, ‘All I want to do is be between my future wife's legs, so thanks for making it happen.’"

  I let out a little snort, which comes out when I laugh. "You planned a bachelor's party here?" Not that this bar isn't a good place to throw one, but this silver fox exudes money.

  "Uh, fuck no. This was not my choice. His baby brother begged me. Yeah, never again." He pushes to his feet, and I guess the talking is over. He thrusts my legs apart, which in turn hikes my dress up, standing in front of my face. "But I'm not here to chat about this."

  I push a stray red curl behind my ear. "And tell me then, Gramps, why the hell are we here?" I know the answer to my question, but I want to hear his.

  A finger trails up the inside of my thighs, reaching the hem of my lacy thong. "I think you know why we're here, cherry. But you first, you’ve got to tell me two things."

  I breathe hard. He can't tease me like this and then simply leave me hanging.

  "Yeah, Gramps, what is that?" I tease. I'm a brat, but I think he gets off on me being one.

  "Okay, cherry. First, you’ve gotta tell me this is what you want. But you've got to be exact—telling me you want me to fuck you. And second. I have all the control. You say red at any point, it's over. No questions asked."

  His words undo me, but not in the way I had thought. I jut my hips out, getting a little friction of his hand near my pussy.

  "You gotta say the words, cherry. Or it's not going to happen."

  My hand snakes around his neck, and my lips reach his ears.

  "Gramps, please fuck me. And you have all the control."

  "And if you want it to stop?" he asks. "What do you say?"

  His fingers inch farther inside my panties, just enough to give me a little preview. I have no choice. In my mind, he's already fucking me.

  "I say red, like my hair, Senior. Red." But in my thoughts, I don't plan to stop him, not when he already has me begging for so much more tonight.

  Chapter 1

  Molly

  The second his fingers delve between my panties and the sensitive flesh, I want them inside me. I don't do this often. I'm all for sex, but I can count on no hands the number of times I've entertained a one-night stand. And I don't even know this man's name. Whenever he speaks, there's a slight hint of an accent, but I can't place it, not yet. And it's not really what my mind is concentrating on.

  "Stop squirming, little girl. I'm in control. I'm the one in charge of your orgasms."

  A Dom is not someone or something I've ever been interested in, but with his sexy commands, the wetness continues to build within me.

  "Give me a nod if you understand me." His demand, like him, is sexy.

  The bob of my head gives him the permission he seeks. I'm rewarded with his finger circling my clit, and I let out a mewl of pleasure.

  "Have I given you permission to speak, little girl?" he asks. He's one of those types of men. It's not my thing, giving someone my submission every day, but then again, this is an experience, a one-time deal. I can give him what he needs for one night, as long as he gives me some mind-numbing orgasms.

  "Sorry, Sir," I reply, in a pure voice, leaving the brat part of me behind. Who knows, I may very well like it more than I've thought in the past.

  "Okay, little girl, you are learning." His head leans into mine. His lips meet my own, and I'm given a hint of what this night will be like. The mighty sweep of his mouth to mine and the way he forces himself into my mouth, only to tango with my tongue, giving me yet another indication of who's in control. I follow his lead, not letting any noise fall from my lips.

  I almost forget about where his finger is until he enters me. The intrusion is welcomed, and he pulls away, just to be able to shower kisses down my neck, and his fingers somehow find passage to my skin under my bra.

  The sneaky Dom has, unbeknownst to me, unzipped my dress. He pinches one nipple, moving his gaze to mine. "Yes or no, little girl?"

  I have never had someone do this to me, and the zing it sends down my spine is wanted. Hell, it seems almost vital for the night he's silently promised me.

  "Yes, Sir." Fuck yes, Sir, don't stop is what is floating through my mind, but I leave it simple.

  "Now, unbutton my pants, cherry. I want your hands wrapped around my cock."

  Why do his words with how he says cock, in an almost guttural ultimatum, cause my skin to pebble in goose bumps? It's when I know this will be the most intense night of sex I'll ever experience.

  I do as he requires without being able to see because his large body is blocking my view. I grasp his cock, and I don't have to see him to fully understand how he'll fill me up.

  "Yeah, baby, up and down. I want your delicate fingers stroking its whole length." Oh, shit, his whole length is impressive. But I stop to rub the tip of him. "Ah, you're going rogue, cherry, but I'll allow it."

  I reply with a smile, and he adds another finger inside me. I stifle a moan because this man knows his way around a woman's body. More like my body.

  I don't feel it coming because I'm so lost in the moment until it's upon me, and the orgasm isn't short-lived. Like the silver fox in front of me, he doesn't seem to do anything half-assed.

  "You can let it out, little girl. Let it out."

  The whole room is filled with my delight, and it's a good thing the music is louder in the bar because I'd be heard, plain as day.

  "Yeah, if my fingers can cause this sort of reaction, just wait, baby, you'll love my cock."

  I sure as fuck will. And within seconds, my panties are gone. He emerges with a condom in hand, and he's thrusting inside me. My orgasm was barely over, and I see stars. Yeah, this one-night stand will be what I compare every other sexual experience with. And I'm not sure I want to go back to anything but this man. But love is not what I'm looking for, and I’ll relish him for the short amount of time I'll have.

  It's odd; he finds a blanket in one of the closets in the room and lays it down, pulling me into his arms. I thought it would be a quick goodbye the second he slipped out of me, but he insists on this time together. I have no idea what time it is but had sent my girlfriends a text before slipping away with my silver fox to tell them I'd find my way home.

  "Are you okay?" he asks, dropping a kiss on my forehead.

  "Um, yeah, but I wasn't expecting this." I point at us on the floor still naked on the blanket as we’re skin to skin.

  "Yeah, well, I never just leave a woman after sex. It's not my way." It's an odd answer, and I don't try to fixate on the comment about other women. Of course, there are other women. He’s sexy and older and certainly has a sensual appetite. I wonder if he’ll ask for another night, which is tempting, but this is not my thing. I’m young and still have several years to sow my wild oats.

  “It’s nice,” I respond, a question on the tip of my tongue.

  “You can ask whatever is swirling through that pretty head of yours, baby.” I’ve never liked baby or sweetheart and certainly not little girl, but hell, falling from his lips, I like it. No, I fucking love it.

  "Is it rude to ask how old you are? Because you certainly are youthful in the sex department." I don't continue to say how his body is one of beauty, either.

  A hearty and deep chuckle falls from his mouth. The way his lips turn into a bright smile or the blue of his eyes sparkling cause my stomach to flip and flop.

  "I think that may be the best underhanded compliment I've ever received."

  I give him a little shrug. I'm more than curious. His laugh lines, the small wrinkles under his eyes, and the silver in his hair are the only indications he's pushing forty.

  "I'm forty-three." In his honesty, I gasp. "So it's time to answer your own question. How old are you, cherry?"

  Well, fuck, I'm a little girl compared to him. Taking my hand to push me up, he pulls me back down. "No running, not yet. I don't c
are if I'm older than you. I would guess you're twenty-five."

  I shake my head at him. "I'm twenty-three," I reply.

  "Do you regret the many orgasms?"

  I shake my head again. "So, a number is just a number at the end of the day."

  He's right. But a twenty-year difference? And it had not been what I was expecting, but as I snuggle my head into his neck, I fall asleep without a care in the world.

  "Shit, shit, shit." My head swings from the clock on the wall to the man snoring on the floor of a bar.

  I spring to my feet like I'll perform a backflip. I grab for the clothes, as both of ours are clumped together. I'm hopping on one leg when the slurred speech of my silver fox catches my attention.

  "Where's the fire, cherry?" He calls for me, and I'm now hopping on the other leg, with just one of my high heels on.

  "Sorry, Gramps, I have a family thing. It starts soon, and I'm an hour from home with no way to get there."

  My brother is going to kill me. My fingers are typing like crazy, ordering a Lyft when his arms encircle my waist. And his touch feels like heaven. It doesn't seem wrong with the twenty-year difference, but I've always bucked convention even if it did.

  "Let me take you home, little girl."

  Alarm bells are ringing through my head. This is a one-night stand. If he drives me home, we'll most likely exchange names, and he'll ask me out again. I'll want to know about his faint accent. I can't afford this. My early twenties are for sowing my wild oats, and fuck, do I have a shit ton to sow.