One Exquisite Touch: Book One in The Extravagant Series

by Lauren Blakely

  She slams her hands on the ground, raises her ass for Cole, and chooses. “I want to be on my hands and knees.”

  “You heard her. Get inside her.” I meet my friend’s eyes then glance down at this wanton, needy woman in front of me. “Fuck her good and hard.”

  26

  Cole

  I remove her panties, roll on a condom, and slide into her, filling my woman.

  Mine.

  She is mine.

  I don’t care if she’s had her lips around his dick.

  Don’t care if she kisses him either. Don’t care who makes her come. I just want her to be coming over and over and over again.

  She belongs to me. He can fuck her, he can kiss her, but at the end of the day, at the end of the night, he’ll only do those things with me in the room. I tell her as much as I thrust into her. “You’re going to fuck him too,” I growl in her ear. “You know that, right?”

  “I do.”

  “But only with me there. You know that too. Say you know it, Sage.”

  She pants, pushing back onto my cock, murmuring, “I know it.”

  I cover her body, rasping in her ear as I fill her. “You can do whatever you want with him. Whatever you want as long as I’m there,” I say on a thrust, going deep as my fingers glide across her clit, faster and faster, taking her there. Taking her to where she’s shattering, shaking beneath me, crying out as she comes loud and hard.

  Her first orgasm.

  As she shatters, pleasure runs roughshod over me, barrels through my veins. And I intend to fuck her to another climax. “I want you to fuck him next. The second I’m done, I want you to fuck him in front of me. I want to watch,” I rasp out as I find a pace, moving faster.

  “You like to watch,” she whispers.

  “I like to watch you feel good,” I correct, and I go deeper in her, hitting that spot inside that drives her wild, and keeping my fingers on her clit the whole time.

  Her breathing quickens.

  Her murmurs intensify.

  Her body quakes.

  Within a minute, she cries out while I pump into her. I kiss her neck, her shoulders, her cheek as she rocks against me, her body reaching for another release.

  She moans.

  She begs.

  She pleads.

  “I want to come in front of the whole city,” she says, raising her face, staring through the slats of the balcony railing at all of Vegas in front of us. This town is ours. Daniel leans against the railing, watching us.

  Her eyes lock on his hand stroking his erection.

  “You want all of Vegas to know how you like to be fucked, don’t you?” I ask as I push as deep into her as I possibly can, as I bury my cock so far into her that pleasure radiates through my bones.

  “I do, I do,” she gasps.

  “You want everyone to know that the most powerful woman in this town is at the mercy of the two most powerful men. That this gorgeous beauty, this brilliant woman, likes it when two men take her to the edge of pleasure?”

  “Yes,” she calls out, crying out in pleasure, as Daniel stares heatedly at her body, as she’s ravaged by blissful agony.

  I slam my eyes closed, coming hard inside my woman. My vision blurs, and ecstasy takes over my entire being. I pant, moan, kiss her cheek, then, as I gently pull out of her, whisper, “Are you ready for him? Can you handle it again? Can you come again, sweetheart?”

  She looks up at Daniel. Back at me. She’s intoxicated. Drunk on bliss. All she does is nod. And I kiss her cheek, sliding my lips to her mouth, kissing her soft and gentle. “You’ve never been sexier.”

  I offer her a hand, help her rise, and steady her as she moves to the railing and lifts her ass for my friend. He covers himself, moves behind her, and slides into her. I dispose of the condom, zip my pants, and reach for my scotch. And as I finish my drink, he fucks her to her third orgasm and his second, both of them groaning and grunting against the balcony as the city conspires to commit sin five floors below us.

  As we sin above it all.

  But is this sin? Or is this its own filthy heaven?

  Maybe it’s both. Maybe it’s more. Maybe it’s everything I’ve been searching for but didn’t know I wanted till now.

  Didn’t know till she danced into my life behind a mask more than a week ago.

  And now, I don’t want her to waltz out of it.

  I want her in it, in so many ways.

  Her breath comes in staccato bursts as Daniel pulls out. Kisses her neck. Her cheek. Her mouth. Slides a hand down her back. She leans against the railing, panting hard.

  Her lips are parted, her face flushed. Slowly, languidly, she turns her gaze to me. Her blue eyes are so vulnerable, so open right now.

  They call out to me, and my heart thunders. With need. With warmth. I close the distance between us, wanting to ease whatever worry is written in her eyes, whatever nerves are rising to the surface in my woman.

  I dust a kiss to her soft, bee-stung lips. “Sweetheart,” I whisper.

  A soft breath ghosts over her lips. A fluttery sigh.

  Daniel steps away, heading inside.

  “Cole,” she murmurs, and in my name, I hear so much more than I ever expected when I met her.

  Since I expected nothing that night. I only hoped for pleasure. And instead, I’ve found something I don’t want to lose.

  “Let’s get you cleaned up,” I say softly.

  She nods, tugs down her skirt, and finds her panties.

  I step inside, head to the table, and pick up a gift for her. Something I selected earlier today from one of our shops at The Invitation.

  When she comes in from the balcony, still dazed, she blinks and asks hoarsely for the bathroom. I gesture to the private one in my office.

  “But first, I thought you might like this,” I say, then give her the pink box. She opens it, smiles softly at the lace panties inside, then whispers a thank you.

  “I’ll need these,” she says, as Daniel settles onto the couch.

  “Timing is everything,” I whisper, then cup her chin and plant another hot, possessive kiss on her gorgeous lips. Wanting her to know she’s mine. She belongs to me.

  After we break the kiss, she makes her way to the bathroom.

  Daniel arches a brow, smirking.

  “What?” I ask.

  He shrugs impishly. “You can say it.”

  “Say what?”

  “I was right.”

  “Or is it that you and Scarlett were right?”

  Another grin is my answer. “Scarlett does have a rather astute sense of what you need, as do I.”

  I lean against my desk, but I’m not annoyed, not in the least. “You relish being right.”

  His eyes glint with the glow of satisfaction. “So you admit I knew best? From the start?”

  “Is that what you want most of all? The admission? And here I thought it was the wagers.”

  He rolls his eyes. “I suspect the wagers are over, mate.”

  “Yes, I suspect they are,” I say, and my heart thumps a little harder, beats a little faster as realization slams into me once more. Sage is wonderful. She is brilliant. She makes me want to take care of my heart. “She makes me feel again,” I say to my friend, speaking the truth.

  Trouble is, when she emerges from the bathroom, she looks polished, put together.

  And entirely different.

  Like she’s wearing a mask.

  Instinct takes over, and I go to her, sliding an arm around her. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

  She smooths a hand down her skirt. Shakes her head. “I have a meeting to go to. I’ll talk to you later.”

  And then, just like that, she’s gone.

  27

  Sage

  The meeting is with myself.

  It’s a conference with my conscience.

  Because what the hell did I just do?

  I can’t even answer in my own head.

  I’m still shocked. Still in a state of disbelief. P
erhaps there are two versions of me.

  I leave The Invitation and ask the valet to call a cab.

  The uniformed man nods crisply, blows a whistle, and yanks open the door of the taxi when it pulls up. “Have a good evening, Ms. Carmichael.”

  “Thank you,” I say, shutting it behind me, putting my phone on silent, sliding it into my purse, and clutching that to my lap.

  “Where can I take you?”

  I give the man an address. One I rarely go to.

  But this evening, I feel compelled.

  The sun dips toward the horizon as the cab speeds out of the portico, onto the Strip, then quickly away from it. Tugging me from the epicenter of my world as I stare out the window, a strange mix of doubt and self-loathing brewing in me.

  The car cruises past familiar landmarks, along streets I know, past stores, libraries, shops. The cocktail of feelings in me grows stronger, the emotions whirring higher as we drive toward the suburbs.

  My stomach churns.

  My chest twists.

  And my mind hurts.

  When at last the driver reaches my destination, I hand him a fifty, thank him, and get out of the car.

  I draw a deep breath, gulping for air. Setting a hand on my belly, I walk into the park. The one I know from my childhood. The place where I came when I was younger. There’s the bench where my father read to me, and where I read out loud back to him, proud to show off my skills.

  I reach the green wooden bench, sink down onto it, and hold my head in my hands.

  Is this who I’ve become?

  Is this the brilliant for brilliant woman?

  Did my parents want this for me?

  Casting my eyes to the playground, I toss questions around in my head as nearby school children climb slides and totter on seesaws.

  What kind of woman lets two men fuck her?

  In. A. Row.

  One after the other.

  I tear my gaze away from the kids, close my eyes, and try to understand myself. Since I met Cole and Daniel, I’ve been on a wild ride, gaining reckless speed, picking up crazy momentum.

  Not thinking.

  Just feeling.

  Doing.

  Taking.

  I’ve been fucking.

  That’s what I’ve been doing.

  Fucking and indulging.

  And then justifying.

  That’s why I left. Why I exited faster than I entered.

  Because my actions slammed into me after my third orgasm cleared, after the haze of bliss drifted away.

  I’m a woman who’s been acting on every impulse, indulging in every sexual whim.

  I’ve had two men. Within mere minutes.

  A shudder rushes through my body.

  “Damn you,” I mutter, cursing my libido.

  But the shudder doesn’t stop.

  It turns into a tingle as images taunt me. Daniel’s cock pushing into my throat. Cole’s fingers traveling between my legs. My body aching for them both.

  The orgasms we had. Daniel’s. Mine. Cole’s.

  Then mine again.

  And one more time as they took turns.

  They. Took. Turns.

  And I wanted them to.

  My pulse surges, spiking in me, as the temperature rises.

  And I want them again.

  But the trouble is, I don’t know how to be this person.

  If I even can. If this is who I was raised to be. Does a woman who everyone knows, who the town respects, who oversees boards, who signs checks, who gives, who cares, who loves . . . also get down on her knees for two men?

  I raise my face, snap open my purse, and fish around for my phone.

  When I grab it, I dial one person.

  The one person I need to see right now.

  28

  Sage

  Eliza opens the door and instantly wraps me in a hug. She brings me inside and gives me a once-over. “Friend, you look like you need ice cream therapy. As well as Macallan therapy, and probably even a-day-at-the-spa therapy.”

  I shake my head, a tear slipping from an eye as she guides me to the couch, hands me a tissue.

  “What’s going on, Sage? Talk to me. I’m here for you.”

  I wipe my cheek, then blurt out, “I fell in love with the enemy, and I’m also attracted to his best friend. And I had sex with both of them just now.”

  She takes my hand, squeezing it. “I kind of want literally every detail, but I also want to honor the fact that you seem stressed about this, so I’m going to be totally blunt—I’m both turned on and totally supportive.”

  And that’s all it takes for me to laugh. This is so very Eliza – wildly supportive and sexually progressive. I crack up, head falling into my hand. “I guess I came to the right person.”

  Eliza smiles. “You did. So, seriously, what can I do to help?” She gestures to the kitchen. “Do you need some wine? Do we need a session with Belvedere? If not, I just got some new chocolate from your favorite place. I’m happy to break it out.”

  My voice wobbles as I dab at the remnants of a tear. “He knows my favorite chocolate too.”

  She furrows her brow. “That’s good, right?”

  “Cole asked me this morning. An hour later, he had it delivered to me. He bought me lingerie too. It’s gorgeous, and I’m wearing the new panties now. He bought me a book the day of our first meeting. I know they’re only things. But already he knows all these little things about me, and he knows exactly what to do and say at exactly what moment, and it’s wonderful and terrifying.”

  “That sounds good?”

  Is it? That’s what I’m trying to figure out, so I ask, “But the thing is, who am I, Eliza?”

  Eliza squares her shoulders. “The same person you were the night we went to the party.”

  “But how? How can I be my parents’ daughter? How can I be this woman of the city? How can I be an upstanding person and citizen and have all of these fetishes that I’m only just now discovering?”

  She draws a deep breath, like it fuels her, gaze full of certainty. “Because you’re human, and you’re a woman, and people have desires, and people have wants and wishes, and there is nothing wrong with any of that. This is what I’ve learned from books, Sage. I started reading romance novels a long time ago, and you know what they taught me?”

  Curious, I raise a brow. “What did they teach you?”

  “There is no shame in sex unless you bring it there. There’s no shame in desire. There is no shame in wanting. If everyone consents and everyone is safe, that’s really all that matters. I believe that with my whole heart.” She takes a breath, then asks one more thing. “The question is, do you?”

  29

  Sage

  That is the question, isn’t it?

  What do I believe?

  Do I believe I can be the woman my parents raised, and also be the woman I was this evening?

  It’s one thing to attend a masquerade where one man kisses my neck and another fondles me.

  It’s another thing to let two men enter my body. In succession.

  This evening in Cole’s office overlooking the city is like a pendulum in my heart. It’s the swing from one Sage to the other.

  Which one will I be?

  I felt like a different person. A different woman. Like I was stepping into a new land, crossing a border, entering foreign territory.

  But I don’t have to cross it alone.

  I can share. I tell Eliza pretty much everything. I tell her what happened with the rock stars, how I marched to The Invitation, how I stormed into Cole’s office, how I asked them to fuck me on the balcony.

  Her eyes go wide, hungry, savoring every dirty detail. When I’m done, she fans herself. “That’s kind of ridiculously hot.”

  I roll my eyes, grateful to feel light in this moment. “You also thought it was ridiculously hot when Jackson and Stone were into each other.”

  “Yes. I did. Because that is hot too. Also, no shame, friend. There is no shame at all
in what we think is hot. And I’m kind of an omnivore. I think a lot of things are hot. I think two men into each other is hot. I think two men just into you is hot as well.”

  That’s the thing—it is hot. But is that enough? “True. But should I base my decisions on sex? On my own craving for something I haven’t had before?”

  She lifts a brow, taking a beat before she answers. “Is that the issue though? Or is there something else going on?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Because I don’t think sex is the issue.”

  I arch a brow, a little confused. “You don’t?”

  “Look, I think it’s part of it. I do. But I also think that there are other factors at play. Because desire is desire. Love is love. Sex is sex. People like it different ways.” She exhales deeply. “Is that truly what you’re struggling with? Because I’m not convinced.”

  I don’t answer right away. I ask myself the same question. Is the type of sex my issue? To some degree, yes. But to some degree, no. I close my eyes, rewinding through the day, through how I felt, through what I longed for.

  Was it the desire that ate away at my soul? Or was it something else?

  I remember my rage—misplaced, but rage nonetheless—when I stalked over to Cole’s hotel.

  And in an instant, I know the heart of the matter.

  I open my eyes. “It’s him. It’s Cole. All these things I feel for him. And it’s trust,” I say heavily. But also lightly too. Because that’s what I’m truly struggling with—can I trust my competitor? And more so, can I trust my new lover?

  Eliza smiles, nodding. She is such a wise woman. “This is about trust. You’ve had your trust broken. You’ve seen it violated. That’s what eats away at you.”