by James, Clare
“You are killing me, Stevie,” he grunts.
My robes falls to the floor, and his eyes burn into me, taking in every inch of my naked body. My nipples harden, fire ignites in my core, and moisture pools between my legs. And when I see his growing arousal straining against his jeans, I am entranced.
I drop to my knees right there and, with quick fingers, remove all obstacles in my path to the prize. He’s prevented me from touching him, pleasuring him, and I simply won’t have it a moment longer. I want him—in my mouth, between my breasts, inside of me. I want to roll up in a Gabe taco and never come out.
As I pull back the waistband of his boxers, he springs free, and I finally make the acquaintance of his beautiful cock. But there is no time for pleasantries or introductions. I’m desperate for him, desperate to please.
Never quite trusting my expertise in this area before, I have no reservations now. This is not about performing; this is about my hunger for this man. I take in his length and thickness, never really appreciating the beauty of the male form until this very second.
I dip my head low and begin my assault. I start kissing him at the base and slowly run my tongue upward—tasting him all the way up to the tip. Gabe twitches at my touch, and I savor the bead of moisture there, spreading it around his head with my tongue until he moans. I warm with pride. Yes, I’m good at this.
“Jesus,” he says, fisting his hands in my hair.
I’m high on the power I have over him. I want more.
No, I need more. Increasing the pressure and my pace, I caress his shaft with my mouth. My head bobs up and down, and his hips begin to meet me, thrusting into my mouth. His sounds of pleasure tell me to accelerate my tempo even further.
I know he’s close, as I can feel the pressure mounting in his long length.
But Gabe pulls me to my feet before his release.
“Stop,” he growls. “I want to be inside when I come with you for the first time.”
“The first time?” I ask with ragged breath.
“Yes.” His wicked grin is back. “You’re in for a long night, Sinclair.”
He kicks off his pants, picks me up, and carries me to the bed. We roll in a tangle of arms and legs, the air filled with the heady scent of our desire. Then, like a flick of a switch, Gabe takes over. It was as if he was indulging me before, but now he’s ready to get serious. He rolls me to my back, possessively running his palms down my body.
“Pull your knees up to your chest,” he orders.
I comply, giddy with anticipation.
“Christ.” He exhales as his eyes peruse my body. “I’m not going to be able to go as slow as I planned. You are just too fucking tempting, Stevie.”
Without a hesitation, his head dives between my legs—tasting and teasing me before his tongue moves inside. That familiar pull low in my core begins its rapid climb. But before I’m ready to fall, Gabe pulls away from me.
Nooooo!
He kisses my mouth hungrily, and I taste myself on his tongue; it’s incredibly naughty and erotic, and I can’t get enough. Then, with perfect timing, he plunges into me. And it’s like nothing I’ve ever experienced. I would swear I was a virgin because nothing has come close to feeling like this.
Why?
It’s all I can ask in the moment. Why is this so intense, so much better than anything I’ve ever had before? Why does Gabe want me when he could have any woman he wanted? And why did I have to wait so long for him?
I relish in the deliciously full sensation of having him inside and I wait—not so patiently—as my body acclimates to his thickness. I enjoy the slow pull, the resistance, and the pain as it works its way into becoming something else.
“Your pussy is so tight, baby,” he growls. “So fucking hot.”
His filthy words are almost my undoing. I hold onto his muscular arms as he rocks into me with such force it takes my breath away. On their own accord, my legs wrap around his waist, holding him to me. I pant, feeling the pleasurable friction between us.
Teetering on the edge of all reason, I bite Gabe’s shoulder and he growls, pushing into me deeper, faster. In this moment, he could get me to do anything for him—happily.
“Come for me,” Gabe says through gritted teeth. “Now.”
And the very next second, I’m soaring.
Chapter 17
I wake up delightfully sore and thoroughly fucked. I’m finally starting to see what the fuss is all about. Maybe this was what Max was doing in his spare time. Maybe I would’ve done the same thing.
Gabe and I spend most of the morning in bed, like any normal couple would—enjoying room service and reading the newspaper. I have to remind myself it’s not real, but just a ten-day adventure. So to give my mind a break from these thoughts of Gabe, I fill him in about the yesterday’s presentation because there wasn’t a lot of talking last night.
“You are nothing short of amazing,” Gabe says.
“I don’t know about that.” I laugh. “Ballsy, maybe. Certainly not amazing.”
“I’d say ballsy is accurate.”
“Really?”
“Well considering the way you molested me last night, I’m not sure I’d put anything past you at this point,” he says.
“That’s right. I take what I want, when I want it.” I like playing this game.
“And did you get what you wanted?”
“More,” I say happily.
“Me too.” Gabe’s eyes grow dark at the memory and then he attacks.
***
“I hope you don’t have plans today,” Gabe says after ravaging me in the morning light.
Twice.
“I don’t,” I say. “Why do you ask?”
“Because you are Venus-in-Training, and therefore, you shall be pampered. I’ve made an appointment for you at the spa to prepare for your first night.”
“First night?” I ask. “So, how does this work—how many nights will I be in training? Or can I just get it all over with in one shot?”
“God no, it’s a lot to take in. I’m not sure even the members with the biggest appetites could do it all in one night. No, I was thinking we’d take it slow. Let me have you for the week, Stevie. We’ll go to The Club for four of the nights, but then I want the other three to myself, without the wolves at your feet.”
A week! I do a little happy dance.
“Okay,” I agree. “Sounds like a plan.”
He nods his head, trying to play off the smile I see spreading across his face. It’s some time before we make it out of bed. But when we finally do, I shower and get dressed and let Gabe send me off for a spa day.
I arrive at a sparkly glass building just a few miles away from the hotel—looks like new construction. On the seventeenth floor is a sleek and ultra-modern spa—minimalist in design with a funky waterfall running down the wall and orchids everywhere. An impeccable woman, dressed in white with her long blonde hair slicked in a severe-looking ponytail, greets me at the door.
“Ms. Sinclair,” she says. “We were expecting you.”
“I’m Jada and I’ll be taking care of you today.”
“Nice to meet you,” I say as she hands me glass of cucumber water. It’s cool and refreshing as it flows down my throat.
“So your boyfriend told me you need a good pampering, today.”
I grin, refusing to correct her assumption. Actually, it sounds nice. Boyfriend. Too nice.
“Any special occasion we’re celebrating?” she asks.
The most consecutive orgasms in a week?
“Not really, someone is just intent on spoiling me today, I guess.”
“Well, hon, you better hold on to that one.”
“Oh, how I wish I could,” I mumble, caught in a daydream as I follow Jada into the ladies lounge. I slip into a soft terrycloth robe that smells like lavender, and over the next three hours, I’m buffed, shined, conditioned, and massaged.
It is absolutely heavenly.
***
“I
look ridiculous,” I yell out to Gabe from the dressing area at The Club. I can hear his snicker from the other side of the door. Actually, for me, I look great. The best ever. I’ve been primped to perfection. My skin feels amazing and my hair is like silk. The problem is the outfit. Let’s just say it’s a bit over the top.
“Just come out here so I can have a look,” Gabe says.
Reluctantly, I peer out from the dressing room in my long toga. My hair hangs in loose curls with a ribbon weaving through each side.
“Wow,” Gabe says, all wide-eyed. “You look edible.” He pulls me close to nuzzle my neck. “And smell incredible. There’s just one thing out of place. This neckline isn’t quite right. May I?” He slides his fingers under the fabric.
“Please,” I tell him. “I wouldn’t want to embarrass myself out there.”
He pulls the neckline on the left side so that … oh, that little perv … my left boob comes flying out. Gabe sucks in a loud breath, and my body tingles from his response. He continues working the gown, taking the fabric and securing it to a clasp at my rib cage.
You’ve got to be kidding me. That’s what the clasp is for?
He does the same to the other side and I’m all nice and secure. The only problem is my breasts are completely exposed. I turn to the mirror and gasp, immediately trying to retreat back to the dressing room.
Before I can make my escape, a long arm brings me to an abrupt stop. “Just hang on,” Gabe says.
“I can’t go out there like this.” I roll my eyes.
“Don’t mean to point out the obvious, babe.” Gabe runs his hands up my arms, warming me. “But the people here have seen a lot more of you than this.
“Yes, I know,” I sass back. “But that was in the heat of the moment. This is just so, I don’t know—look at me, look at me. I know it sounds asinine after what I’ve done here, but this seems like I’m trying too hard.”
“You are a piece of work, you know that?” He shakes his head. “You look gorgeous, and you should be proud of your body. After tonight, I think you will be. One more step to getting your sexy back.”
“Are you telling me it’s all part of the plan?”
“That’s exactly what I’m telling you. Now let’s grace the others with your presence, shall we?”
But before we can take a single step, Gabe runs his hands over my bare chest and not-so-gently pinches each nipple. Then he plants kisses over my exposed skin, leaving his mark on me, and pulls one nipple into his mouth. Sucking hard, he does the same to the other side, before taking my hand and leading me out to the masses.
Chapter 18
We walk into the main room and all eyes turn to me. My nipples, sensitive and tight after Gabe’s assault, appreciate the attention. I, however, flush ten shades of scarlet and cast my eyes to the floor.
“Keep your head up,” Gabe says. “You are Venus-in-Training, and everyone wants to see you. All of you.”
I look up and the eyes that still remain on me are soft, admiring, and some even lustful. My admirers smile, wink, and give me gracious nods. I’m beginning to feel better already.
Gabe orders us white wine to help ease me into the evening’s festivities, but all I want to do is get him back to the hotel room and do unspeakable things. The Club is just as it was the first night—alive, with a heady vibe. The crowd is just as intense. We watch the dance floor, packed with half-naked people gyrating to the beat, and I can’t help but flush, wondering what I looked like up there the first night.
Gabe raises an eyebrow to me, as if reading my mind. He squeezes my hand tightly.
We sit through four songs. Yes, I’m counting—nervously hoping Gabe will let me sit through four more before we get started.
No such luck.
“It’s time,” he whispers and leads me down the corridor of sin. This time we stop at the dark room.
Gabe releases my hand and nudges me toward the door.
“What?” I panic. “You’re not coming with me?”
“That’s not what this room is about, Stevie. This is about the allure of a stranger’s touch. Letting yourself go, and allowing yourself to enjoy it.”
He’s right, and I knew this was coming. I’m just not ready to leave his side yet. He tips his head to me, and I don’t want to let him down. Hell, I don’t want to let myself down. And who knows, I may really enjoy it.
I take a deep breath and walk inside.
It is pitch black and a little scary. And when a hand reaches out for me, I almost scream. “Don’t worry,” a woman’s voice says. “I’m only here to get you situated. Would you like to sit or stand?”
“Sit,” I say, since my knees threaten to buckle at any second.
“Very well.” She takes my hand and leads me to a sofa. The woman helps me lean back and prop my legs up on an ottoman. Her hands are soft and her voice is nurturing. She helps to take a bit of the edge off.
My seat is comfortable, but every nerve in my body is tingling. I take a few more deep breaths and close my eyes, trying to adjust to the room. I begin to calm.
At least until I hear footsteps closing in on me.
From above, lips come down to meet my forehead—giving me a feather-light kiss. Fingertips work their way into my hair, pulling it back over the sofa. I hear Gabe’s words in my mind—just enjoy it.
I really start to, but I’m soon taken aback when another set of hands are on my feet, sliding my sandals off. The hands are small and move achingly slow as they remove my shoes and explore my feet. It feels like a woman’s touch.
She rubs my instep and massages deep into my tissue, while the other hands continue to play with my hair. Then she lifts my foot and pulls my toes into her mouth, grazing them against her teeth as she releases each one. I feel the sensation down between my legs, throbbing with each touch. She does the same to the other leg and foot, and at the same time, the hands above me—also a woman’s, I believe—travel down my neck to … oh, my breasts.
I can’t keep track of the hands on my body, but God, it is so erotic, so fucking incredible. It goes on for what seems like hours, and I revel in each touch. The woman above me kneads my breasts, occasionally rolling each nipple between her thumb and finger. It is exquisite.
The woman at my feet has now placed both of my feet on her shoulders. She inches my toga up to my knees so she has access to my calves. The massage continues, and soon I’m pressing my breasts into my masseuse’s hands; I can’t help it.
Then I feel cool air hit my sex as my gown slides up to my thighs. Of course, I’m sans panties again. Another offering to Venus.
I’m soaking wet—I can feel it.
Hands begin sliding up my thighs.
Oh. My. Fucking. God.
Gabe did not tell me about this. How far do they go in here? How long do I stay?
“Mmmm,” the woman in front of me says, and I’m not sure I want to know what she’s referring to. This is going a little too far now, yet, I’m not sure I want to stop.
Her hands inch up my thighs, higher and higher.
And then in one moment, a dozen different things happen at the same time. The sofa dips at my left side, a hot mouth is at my ear, and two fingers plunge into me.
“Uhhhhh,” I groan, unable to process anything that’s going on.
The fingers begin to work me, and I know I should snap my legs together, but I can’t. These are no longer woman’s hands. They are big, thick, and rough hands consuming my body now.
“It’s me,” the voice says in my ear.
Gabe.
The other hands have disappeared, and it’s just Gabe’s on me now. But he isn’t slow and gentle; he is crazed. He yanks my gown up to my waist, clamps his mouth around my nipple, and pumps his fingers into to me—fast and furious.
My hips rock with him, and the build is so quick, I barely prepare myself before I shatter all around him. A mix of dirty words fall from my mouth as I spasm and convulse over and over again.
“Incredible,” Gabe gro
wls.
I fall into his lap, unable to move.
“That was something,” he says, holding me now.
“You can say that again,” I add after I come down from my high. Gabe is like an addiction; this amazing creature. How have I lived so long without this?
We stay wrapped in each other for long time and I not only feel sated, I feel adored. My heart squeezes in my chest and I tighten my arms around my very own sex god, bringing him closer. He strokes my hair and whispers endearments in my ear. I have to hide the tear that trails down my cheek, not wanting to ruin one minute of this … this feeling.
Happiness, I think they call it.
***
The very next night, I’m completely naked in the bathing room. It’s getting easier to offer myself up this way. I’m becoming more comfortable in my own skin—I’m also realizing how many of my needs were being neglected with Max. But though my body is hungry, my heart is sad. Gabe didn’t stay with me last night and I only had a few minutes with him on the ride to The Club. Now he’s left me … alone. He said it was time for me to do a room on my own. He said I didn’t need him as a crutch anymore, that I’m ready to fly.
He was wrong.
The bathing room is an open space with several tubs—all white and virginal. Dim lights and candles give it a serene feeling. Yet, it doesn’t help me. I’m uneasy as I soak in the tub while two young women play with my hair.
There are about twenty other people—men and women—milling about. Everyone is watching each other. Strangely, it’s not creepy. It’s pleasant, sexy even. I close my eyes and try to get into it.
“Hello,” a low voice says, followed by a splashing of water over my chest.
I open one eye to check out my company. A beautiful man sits at my side, as if there’d be any question about his looks in this place. Long brown hair secured in a tail, model-like features, deep brown eyes. Warm. Sweet. Young—maybe early twenties.
