Wicked Wolff

by Reese Spenser

  “And I don’t use a vibrator,” she huffs.

  “There’s no shame in fantasizing about sex.” I tell her.

  “I’m not ashamed; I just don’t, at least I didn’t.”

  A ton of fucking bricks drop on my head allowing her words to sink in. But I still need to ask the question. And I need to hear the answer.

  “Are you telling me that you’re a virgin.”

  “That's exactly what I'm telling you.”

  A virgin, holy fuck; I didn’t see that coming.

  Chapter 8

  Olivia

  EVEN AS I STAND BEFORE Dorian fully clothed, revealing myself to him. The memory of his touch has turned an ember into a blaze. I have never craved anything as much as I want him. But I refuse to surrender my virginity to a man who does not value me. My virginity is meant to be my gift to the man I will love for a lifetime. The man who will love me for a lifetime in return. Standing here today I know that man is not Dorian Wolff.

  “I want to taste you.” Dorian’s voice is a husky groan. “I want to pick a pair of your lips and kiss them so deeply the other one speaks.”

  I moan, visibly trembling as my pussy clenches tighter with each word.

  “But first, you’re going to remove every article of clothing you’re wearing. And then I'm going to have you climbing the walls.”

  I stare at Dorian, in both shock and awe. No man has ever spoken to me so bluntly about sex. And no man has ever made my body shiver with such a fierce awakening.

  “No need to be shy with me.”

  Dorian’s words remind me of the assurance he made earlier.

  ‘Nothing will happen that you don’t consent to.’

  “Tell me that you don’t want me to see you, or that you don’t want to see me.”

  I do want to see him, and right now reciprocity guarantees that I will. Dorian holds my gaze, watching and waiting. I untie the bow around my waist, unzip the back and undo the clasp around my neck. I shimmy the dress over my hips, pushing my panties down with it. They puddle at my feet and I fight the urge to cover myself. Dorian stands, extending his hand. I take it and his touch is the equivalent of pouring gasoline on an already raging fire.

  “You’re a beautiful woman, Olivia. Own it.”

  I step to him, intending to get what I need to douse the flames burning hot in my blood.

  “Pick a pair of lips.” I whisper, but Dorian doesn’t miss the plea in my voice.

  Quick as a flash, Dorian scoops me up in his arms. Laying me on the couch flat on my back, he has my legs pointing northeast by southwest. I’m spread wide open for him. My pussy begs for him, clenching and unclenching rapidly. I can tell when he sees it. His pupils dilate and his breathing hisses.

  “Your pussy is begging me to fill it.” Dorian’s groan fills the air.

  Burying his face between my legs, the stubble on Dorian’s face brushes against my inner thighs, causing a delicious friction. But that is nothing compared to the lashing of his tongue against my throbbing clit. I arch my back silently, begging for more. And that’s what Dorian gives me, so much more. I nearly lose my damn mind, when his teeth and tongue torment my swollen nub. Dorian proves that his growls vibrating against my tender flesh is indeed a million times better than any BoB. My body shudders uncontrollably and I come so hard flooding Dorian’s mouth. He laps up my juices hungrily, licking and sucking me until I’m screaming his name.

  Dorian’s grin is pure wickedness when I meet his gaze.

  “You’re not naked,” I hear myself pouting.

  Standing, Dorian remove his clothes. Staring at him, my nipples pebble, desperate for attention. His big hard cock points directly at me, its bulbous head moist with pre-cum and I lick my lips.

  “Can I touch it?” I moan.

  There is something about the heat in Dorian’s eyes that melts my soul.

  “Touch what, Sunshine?” Teasing me, his lips curl upward causing a pulsation in my center.

  I make my way to Dorian on legs that are still a bit wobbly from the earth-shattering orgasm he just gave me. We’re standing almost eye to eye with the help of my four-inch heels. And I make myself perfectly clear.

  “May I touch your cock?” I don’t know why I felt the need to ask permission. Maybe it was his use of the word consent.

  “Yes. You may.”

  Dorian’s approval seems to grant me special powers. And when I wrap my hand around his cock, I know I have the power to give him pleasure. His cock throbs in my hand, growing thicker and longer. I stroke up and down his shaft gently, wiping away the pre-cum dripping from the head. Dorian covers my hand with his, squeezing it, urging me to stroke him harder. Under his tutelage I know I’ve mastered hand-jobs when Dorian groans. “You should stop if you don’t want me to cum in your hand.”

  “Is that what you really want, for me to stop?” I ask, gripping his cock tighter.

  “Hell no. Make me cum Sunshine.”

  Dorian’s release fills my hand. Giving in to the urge to taste him, I lick my fingers. His salty essence coats my tongue and I moan with pleasure as it glides down my throat. I watch as Dorian’s eyes blackened with lust.

  The next morning, I awake alone in my bed. Expecting to see Dorian lying next to me. Then I remember the disappointment I tried to hide when he told me he wasn’t staying the night. I must admit the night didn’t end as I hoped it would. I selfishly wanted to fall asleep in the warmth of his body and wake up to him. I’ll give him credit for being honest with me. Unfortunately, I don’t think we can be just friends, that ship sailed along with the mind-numbing orgasm he gave me. So, where does that leave us. A man unwilling to commit and a woman unwilling to compromise her virginity.

  Otherwise Sunday morning is just like any other. I climb out of bed, wash my face and brush my teeth before slipping on a pair of running shorts and a T-shirt. Grabbing my running shoes, I make my way to the door. Jogging has always had a way of clearing my head. With Dorian consuming my every thought, an extra mile or two couldn’t hurt.

  My cell phone rings, and I answer via the Bluetooth earbuds I’m wearing.

  “Hello.” The breathless greeting sounds sexually charged to my ears.

  “Olivia.” Dorian’s voice quickens my heart. “Do you always sound so fucking sexy in the morning?”

  A frown lifts my brow and I tell him the real reason I sound the way I do.

  “I’m out jogging, so I guess it’ll remain a mystery to both of us since you didn’t stick around to find out.”

  Dorian huffs and the line goes silent for long seconds. I realize my feelings are still hurt, otherwise I wouldn’t have taken such a cheap shot at him. But I don’t apologize for it. So, I start again.

  “Good morning Dorian. What can I do for you?”

  Hissing, Dorian replies, “That’s a loaded question Sunshine.”

  “Does every conversation with you have to start and end with sex?”

  “No. But they are the best kind of conversations.”

  Coming to a stop at a bench, I stretch my muscles, cooling them down after my jog. I’m behind the wheel of my car when Dorian says.

  “I know it’s short notice, but do you have plans for tonight?”

  My only plans are to binge watch episodes of Grey’s Anatomy on Netflix. But I don’t tell him that.

  “Nothing I can’t get out of.”

  “Have dinner with me tonight?”

  A smile curls my lips, but I can’t help tossing his words back at him.

  “I don’t date. Isn’t that what you’ve said to me more than once.”

  “That’s correct, I don’t date.” Dorian confirms. “This is me asking my friend to have dinner with me.”

  I almost laugh at his use of the word friend.

  “I’m free for dinner, friend.” I emphasize.

  “Do you trust me? Will you do as I say no questions asked?”

  The questions catch me by surprise, and I nod hesitantly, before realizing he can’t see me. I shock myse
lf when I respond.

  “Yes.”

  “Good answer Sunshine.” Dorian praise. “I will send you the details.”

  I nod again mostly for myself.

  “Okay,” I manage to say before Dorian ends the call.

  When I arrive home thirty minutes later, there’s a package waiting for me at my door. I can’t imagine who it’s from, since I’m not expecting any deliveries, especially on a Sunday. I pick it up and head inside my condo. Upon further examination I discover that the package is from Dorian. Grabbing the utility knife from the knife block, I cut through the tape to open it. I pull out the contents one at a time, displaying them carefully on the kitchen island. A cocktail dress, black lace with a plunging neckline. Strappy silver Louboutin heels and a steel gray envelope.

  Ignoring the dress and shoes for now, I open the envelope. Inside are a note and a steel gray business card, which is blank. Odd, I thought before reading the note.

  Wear these tonight. No questions asked. Meet me at 8 o’clock; here is the address. The card is your invitation so don’t forget it.

  Arriving promptly at 8 o’clock, I cautiously approach the building the address indicates. A hulk of a man looks me up and down before asking if I’m a new member. I stare at him absentminded for a few moments.

  “Lady; do you have an invitation?” His brisk tone snaps me out of my dazed and confused state. I give him the blank business card I forgot I was holding. He hovers a small UV light over the card before giving it back to me. “Welcome to the Asylum.” He says, allowing me entrance into the building.

  A young woman stands at a podium between two entryways. A fork in the road. I stare at the card in my hand and wonder which path has been decided for me. Before I have a chance to explore the options, Dorian appears at the entrance to my right. But curiosity has me glancing to the left.

  “This way Sunshine,” Dorian greets.

  Following him, he leads me to a dimly lit restaurant. It’s sparse with customers even for a Sunday night. I can count on one hand the number of occupied tables. The circular booths are designed for intimate dining, and the few couples here are taking advantage of the seating arrangement.

  When I accepted Dorian’s invitation for dinner, I didn’t know what to expect. But when he escorts me to our table and a raven-haired woman slides out of the booth, I begin to have doubts about his intentions. Turning to face Dorian, I stare into his smoky gray irises, questioning him silently.

  “Eve will be our hostess tonight.” Dorian says, answering my unspoken question.

  Standing, she picks up the tray from the table and offers me a drink. I accept it without thinking.

  “Why don’t you both have a seat and I’ll bring out your appetizer.” Eve says

  We take our seats and Eve leaves us alone after giving Dorian a shy smile. I can see she is clearly attracted to him and the thought of the two of them together makes me feel uneasy.

  Looking around the room, I notice that most of the women are scantily clad, wearing clothes that look almost like lingerie.

  “Is this a private club?” I ask, bringing my attention back to Dorian. “The dining room is nearly empty,” I add.

  “Membership has its privileges.”

  “What kind of club?” I ask the question without really wanting to know the answer.

  “A private club,” is all he says before taking a sip from his glass.

  Eve returns with the appetizer, and I welcome the distraction, because stuffing my face is better than sitting in strained silence. For all his bravado Dorian seems out of his element. I can see now why he doesn’t date.

  After I’ve eaten a few bites of the appetizer I excuse myself, escaping to the ladies’ room. I’m not sure how long I hide out in the ladies’ room before I decide I’ve been gone too long. I’m washing my hands again when the door opens.

  “Dorian thought you might have gotten lost on your way back.” Eve explains as she enters the ladies’ room.”

  I caught her reflection in the mirror the moment she says Dorian’s name. Her cheeks flush and her pupils dilate instantly. When she meets my gaze, she averts her eyes. But it’s too late, I’ve already seen the truth. They’re lovers or they were lovers.

  “I can give you a few tips, to get his attention. But no one holds it for long,” she murmurs, lifting her long lashes to meet my gaze again.

  Something unrestrained inside me can no longer hold back the nagging feeling I’ve had since first seeing her seated at the dinner table reserved for me and Dorian. It had felt like a violation, her unwelcome intrusion into a space meant for me.

  “Why would I listen to anything you have to say? There's nothing about you that I want to emulate.”

  She sneers and I know that the gloves have come off. So, I strike the first blow.

  “What are you hoping to accomplish? Are you trying to intimidate me with the knowledge that you and Dorian have fucked? Or are you just jealous that he has moved on?”

  I have no idea if Dorian has moved on from Eve, but her reaction tells me there’s some truth to my statement. Before she can respond, I’m walking past her and out the door.

  Rejoining Dorian at the table I slide back into the booth, taking a seat next to him.

  “Are you alright?”

  The concern in Dorian’s voice only irritate me more. And I don’t know what madness possess me to utter the words, but they rise up from my throat and pass my lips before I can swallow them.

  “Is this a sex club?”

  The look on Dorian’s face says he’s relieved, not shocked by my question.

  “Yes. It is,” he says, and I can hear the pride in his voice. “Would you like a tour?”

  The same madness that took hold of me just moments ago controlling my words announces.

  “Yes.”

  Strong fingers grip my hand pulling me to my feet. Dorian leads me toward the exit back to the dual entryway. This time we take the entrance to the left. Lil Wayne’s Sucker for Pain is blaring as we enter the Asylum. At first glance it’s like any other nightclub. Loud music, strobe lights, and dancing. Except the dancers are in cages, on poles and nearly everyone is openly engaged in some sort of sexual activity. We make our way through the club, stopping at the bar for another drink. With my drink in one hand and Dorian’s tight grip on the other, I follow him down a secluded hall lined with private rooms. Every step closer to his private room is a step in the wrong direction.

  “This is it.” He says, coming to a stop at the last door at the end of the hall.

  He enters a code on the panel outside the door. A click indicates that the door is unlocked, and Dorian pushes it open. At his urging, I step into the room ahead of him. The room is clean almost sterile, yet it reeks of wicked sex and unimaginable debauchery. The wooden cross is the focal point of the room, a large chaise and a wooden chest makes up the rest of the objects in the room. There is a door off to the side that I assume leads to a powder room.

  “The depth of my depravity knows no bound. This is who I am.”

  “And this is what you want from me?”

  “Let’s just say my sexual proclivities will push your boundaries.”

  “I’m not into...”

  An unbidden memory interrupts my protest. The memory of Dorian spanking me. I remember how much I liked it and the thought dampens my panties. It’s possible that I don’t know what I’m into? My lack of sexual experience aside, I know when I’m turned on. And something about this room is turning me off.

  “In the bedroom it’s okay to crave pain. A bite on the shoulder, a tug of the hair and a spank on the ass. When you add pain, it can become pleasurable. It’s almost addictive.” He speaks as if he has a direct line to my thoughts.

  I walk over to the wooden cross, turning my back to Dorian.

  “But this isn’t your bedroom. Is it?”

  “I thought we could get to know each other, have a little fun and see where the night takes us.”

  “For someone else
that might be an intriguing proposition, but I’m going to decline.”

  I turn to face him, and his stormy gray eyes match the quiet menace in his voice.

  “I fuck, Olivia. I don't do warm and fuzzy and I don’t do sleepovers.”

  Every conversation we’ve had rewinds and plays on a loop. Through it all he has never lied to me or made me promises he didn’t intend to keep. For that I’m appreciative. I sit my glass down on top of the chest and prepare to leave.

  “I never learned to share, and I want more than a string of one-night stands,” I say before walking out. Dorian doesn’t follow me to my car. But a small part of me hopes that he will come after me.

  Chapter 9

  Dorian

  I’M SITTING AT THE bar alone after Olivia leaves the Asylum. She practically ran away from me after I gave her the full tour of the club and my private playroom. Drowning my sorrow with scotch seemed like a good idea until Colin asks.

  “What happened to your dinner plans.”

  “She walked out,” I grumble, incoherently.

  “What; wait a minute. You brought her here for dinner?”

  I nod and the motion has my head spinning. And the look on Colin’s face reminds me just how much of a fucking disaster my date with Olivia was.

  “This isn’t exactly the place you bring a girl on a first date.” Colin adds.

  “What the fuck do I know about dating? When I want sex; I come to the club or hook up with someone at a party.”

  “You like her.” It’s not a question. Colin knows me well enough to see the truth.

  “It doesn’t matter. I’ve made too many mistakes with her. I’m sure she wants nothing to do with me after tonight.”

  “I know that this maybe confusing to you.” He says.

  I give him a questioning stare. Not sure what he’s getting at.

  “Falling in love can be confusing.”

  Colin’s words hit me like an unprovoked assault, blindsiding me.

  “I’m not falling in love.” The denial sounds false even to my ears.

  “My friend, I hate to break it to you, but you have all the symptoms.”