And it wasn’t just me―both of us had gotten off on it.
“It makes me feel like the most envied man in the room,” JC had told me a few days later. “People get to watch, but they don’t get to touch, and how can they not want to when you’re as incredibly sexy as you are? It’s an ego booster, for sure. It makes me feel like a rock star. It makes me feel like a god.”
I’d always thought of him as a sex god. That he was finally recognizing this for himself felt validating, and it only made me want him more.
He’d fucked me hard bent over the side of the playpen then. It was empty at the time―we weren’t so out-of-control that we’d become inappropriate in front of the children, but we were connected in a way that we hadn’t been before. We were in synch with each other and more in love than ever. Now we were learning how to take advantage of every moment alone, even brief stolen moments in the playroom while the kids took their naps.
Even when our lovemaking slowed down to a more normal pace, the effects carried on in other areas. Every moment of my life felt charged for the first time in years. For the first time since when I’d first met JC, and he’d taken me on an exploration of sexual freedom that I’d ever known. Instead of going through my days by rote, my mind constantly wandering to more urgent matters like employee schedules and my grocery list, I started to live more presently. I was more in my body, more aware of my senses and the people around me, particularly when one of those people was my husband. I was like a radio tuned to his signal. All he had to do was walk in a room, and the energy between us crackled and surged.
The decision to go back to The Open Door was a no-brainer. The only issue was fitting it into our busy lives. Between work and the kids and family and friend obligations, our schedule was booked for the following four weeks.
On the first Saturday in November, the stars aligned and JC and I found ourselves at a penthouse uptown for our first party in the City.
Like we had in the past, we’d walked in with guidelines. Also like in the past, I felt the need to reiterate them as soon as we’d finished checking in.
“Don’t forget,” I said, “We both have to agree if we do this, and I don’t want anyone seeing me naked. Oh, and the same rules as before―no sharing, no touching anyone else.”
“Are you really afraid I’m not going to remember?”
“No,” I admitted. “I’m just nervous.”
He tucked me under his arm and bent his head close to mine. “Well, I’m not nervous. I’m excited. And eager.” He ran his tongue along the sensitive spot of my ear. “But I’m going to make sure it’s everything you want and nothing else. Trust me.”
I took a deep breath and let my body surrender into his on the exhale. “Okay.”
Unlike in the past, tonight we had an agenda. Tonight we planned to fuck, not in the car, but at the party. And when we did, we sure as hell meant to be watched.
The penthouse location gave a very different vibe than when we’d been in the suburbs. There was less structure to the event. Less costume. Less pomp and spectacle. There were still organized activities, but not as many as previously. With the more lax structure and the smaller space, the guests were forced to mingle more. It was harder to find a quiet corner as we had the last time.
But I was determined.
We meandered through the front room, staying long enough for the erotic poetry reading to be polite before making our way into the interior. The den/dining room was the designated pain area, and we skipped that altogether. It was the first real cold night New York had experienced this season, but a cluster of guests had made their way to the hot tub on the terrace. As far as I could tell looking from the safety of the warm apartment, none of them had brought swimwear.
“There’s a fire pit going out there,” JC said, peering over my shoulder. “And the outdoor sofa is empty. I bet we’d be warm enough.”
I bit my lip, considering. “I think it’s a space that will attract too many people.” I wanted to feel like I was being watched, but I wasn’t interested in anyone thinking they could join in.
JC understood. “I get you. Let’s keep going.”
The kitchen and the hallway were free spaces with no particular focus. They were also unusually crowded. Even though I was wearing white beads, I was groped no less than four times trying to make it to the library. The last time, when the hand that squeezed my breast from behind accompanied warm lips at the back of my neck, JC nearly punched the guy in the face.
“My bad, my bad,” the paunchy gentleman said, his hands raised up in surrender. “Didn’t see the beads.”
I tugged on my husband’s jacket, urging him to let it go and continue down the hall with me. He came, reluctantly, but he wasn’t done with the groper. “Even the red beads aren’t an invitation to fondle without permission,” he shouted behind us. “Consent, man! Enthusiastic consent!”
As soon as we were safely pressed against a wall of books in the two-story library, I kissed him for that. “Consent is sexy,” I said, pausing to explain. “Thank you for being my knight and defending my honor.”
We made out for several minutes, our hands and mouths moving frantically. I was quickly wet and aroused, and I knew I wasn’t alone because his erection was pressing firmly against my hip. Would this be where we did it? I’d deliberately worn no panties and a dress that could be easily rucked up. All JC had to do was hoist me up around his waist and press me against the bookshelf behind us.
But was this the right room?
Though he didn’t say it, I could tell he was wondering the same thing when he broke our kiss and scanned the room without letting go of his tight grip on my ass. I looked around as well. It was a quieter area, which I liked, but it was by no means boring. A small game of strip poker was being played around the desk. The sofa at the other end of the room hosted a cluster of cuddling guests, their feet so tangled around each other it was hard to determine what appendage belonged to whom. More people were scattered around the room in intimate groups of three or four, talking and petting and kissing.
“Look over there.” JC nodded toward a trembling woman standing nearby, her hands braced on the bookshelves as her legs shook uncontrollably.
It took a few seconds to realize there was another woman eating her out under her skirt, and still another beat before I noticed the woman on the ground wasn’t just sitting on a man’s lap, but was being privately fucked at the same time.
“Oh.” My body temperature spiked suddenly. With my eyes still on the threesome, I palmed JC’s cock through his pants. “That’s really hot.”
“I think they’re trying to be discreet. And that might be the hottest part.” He nipped along my neck. “I want you, Gwen. I want to be discreet inside you right here.”
“I want that too. So much.”
His palm closed around one of my breasts. “That handsy douchebag thought you were his to touch. I’m not going to be able to see straight until I can remind everyone you’re mine.”
Possessive alpha husband mode―yes, yes, yes.
I nodded eagerly, making sure to give him my enthusiastic consent before he locked his mouth to mine and pivoted me so that my back hit the bookcase. I spread my legs, making room for him between them. He ground his hips back and forth against my pelvis, rubbing my clit with his expert tilt. God, he felt good. Even with the edge of the shelf pushing into my back. It was uncomfortable and would probably leave a bruise, but I was too turned on to care.
There were other elements of the room, however, that distracted me. The hoots and hollers from the strip poker group when some guy lost his last article of clothing, the cry of pleasure from one of the women in the threesome when she’d finally found her orgasm, the whispers and giggles from the heap of cuddlers. It was hard to believe anyone was watching us with all that was going on, and try as I might to concentrate on what I was doing―on what was being done to me―I couldn’t help but be aware of everything else.
JC was petting the wet slit
beneath my skirt when the loud smack of skin against skin pulled my attention enough to look away from my husband. A new couple had entered the room, and I could swear I knew the masked woman who was currently getting her ass spanked by her lover.
“Is that Celia?” I didn’t know Alayna’s husband’s ex all that well so I couldn’t be sure.
JC dropped my skirt to look at the blonde draped across the older man’s lap. “Possibly. I think so.”
He bent to kiss me again, but I pushed him away. “I can’t do this if that’s Celia.”
“It’s probably not her. I don’t know her well enough.”
He obviously wasn’t bothered by the idea.
I definitely was.
Pulling away from him altogether, I straightened my dress and crossed my arms over my breasts. “But what if it is her?” I whispered harshly. It was one thing to fuck in front of an anonymous crowd, but quite a different thing to do it in front of someone we might know, no matter how distant the relation.
He adjusted himself. “Should we stop?”
“Yes.” The mood had been killed now anyway.
No. That was a lie. I was still raring to go, just not in current company. “I don’t know,” I corrected.
“Then we should stop.” He was trying to be supportive, but the flat tone of his voice suggested it wasn’t easy.
With the hard-on he was sporting, I didn’t have to imagine why.
I huffed in frustration. This wasn’t how I’d imagined the night going, which was probably part of the problem. I’d imagined it far too often. The scenario was too firm in my mind―we’d find a visible yet away spot and, even though all eyes might not be on us, it would feel like they were on us.
Now that we’d seen the layout of this particular party, I was beginning to see my fantasy likely couldn’t be played out to ideal. That was disappointing. And a turn-off. At this point, I wasn’t sure we could get on course again at all.
Maybe we should just go and try another night.
On the other hand, JC was as ready to get it on as ever. We’d looked forward to this evening for so long. Both of us had. I didn’t want to let him down, but more importantly, I didn’t want to let us down. Leaving now would mean both of us going home with a major case of blue balls. And I really hated having blue balls.
“I don’t want to stop,” I said, taking his hand in mine. “Let’s just...can we look for another room? Somewhere a little less...busy?”
“Yes, hon. Anywhere you want.” He laced his fingers through mine and, after a brief survey of our options, led us across the library to the spiral staircase. Single file, we climbed to the second floor. The floor with the bedrooms.
We’d never been to the bedrooms at these parties. I’d expected to find one big giant orgy, but that wasn’t exactly the case. There were four bedrooms in total. The first room was occupied by two couples who weren’t engaging together, perhaps two pairs of swingers who’d swapped spouses for the night. At the second room, we found a naked man blindfolded and tied to the bed. The third door was closed, but the sounds of rough sex floated clearly to those outside.
The last door we came to was open, and the bedroom empty. The weird thing was that so many people were in the hallway, which couldn’t be as comfortable as the room was, even if they only wanted to talk. No one was really talking, though. They just hung out, some standing along the wall, others sitting, their backs propped up against it.
“Are any of you waiting for that room?” JC asked no one in particular.
A very curvy woman with purple hair and a tube top turned to answer him. “We’re waiting for someone to put on a show, if that’s what you’re asking.”
The Latino next to her perked up. “We’ve been saving it just for you,” he said, waggling his brows.
JC and I exchanged glances. These people were waiting to watch, and here we were, wanting to be watched. It should have been perfect.
It still could be perfect.
I just had to figure out how I felt about being on a stage.
“We can go home,” JC offered quietly. “Or we can keep looking for something else. Or we can―”
I cut him off. “Let’s do it.” It wasn’t how I’d imagined it, but nothing ever was.
JC was entirely too patient with me sometimes. “Are you sure?”
I took the white bead necklace from my neck and hung it on the door, earning a woot from a handful of onlookers, then I kissed him hard. “How’s that for enthusiastic consent?”
Laughing, he towed me into the room. “I enthusiastically consent too. Now, let’s get you naked.”
I barely had time to glare at him before he pulled me flush against him.
“Kidding,” he whispered against my lips. “Clothes on. No one sees you naked. I know what you want.”
He pressed his mouth to mine, and the things he did with his tongue made it easier to ignore the audience we had in the hall. His lips weren’t the only thing pressing against me, either. His erection was back, not that I was sure it had ever gone away. I’d been too preoccupied to notice.
But now I definitely noticed.
Quickly, I undid his pants just enough to reach in and stroke him. He hadn’t made the same specifications about not wanting to be seen naked, but I didn’t really want everyone seeing his body. It belonged only to me. And, while I didn’t get aroused like he did by flaunting my ownership, I was still possessive about what was mine.
As I continued to fondle him, he brought his hand to my breast to pinch at my nipple. “You’re so turned on right now. You’re so wet, I can smell your pussy.”
I tried to press my thighs together to ease the ache, but JC nudged his knee between my legs, propping me open. With one hand firmly gripping the back of my neck, he brought his other hand down to finger my folds, making sure to keep my dress draped so that no one could see.
They couldn’t see, but it was obvious what was happening. JC knew my body so well that I was gasping and grasping on to him short minutes later.
“Don’t hold it in,” he urged me. “Let everyone hear how well I treat you.”
I hadn’t forgotten our spectators―they were half the reason I was close to climax so fast―but his reminder of their existence accentuated their part in my lust. My orgasm doubled in on itself, and a long, low cry wrenched from my throat while my body shook and stuttered with pleasure.
I was vaguely aware of JC murmuring praise and dirty encouragement while he helped me down to the bed, as well as what might have been praise and dirty encouragement coming from the hallway, which was hot-as-fuck. After pulling my ass to the edge, he propped my feet on the mattress, my bent knee preventing any glimpse of what was happening behind it. He met my eyes as he positioned his cock at my hole.
“Do you want me?” he asked, teasing the tip inside me.
“Yes.”
“That doesn’t sound like you mean it.” He pushed a little farther inside then quickly stroked back out. “I’m not going to give you what you don’t want.”
“You’re such a fucking tease.” I lifted my hips to try to meet him, but he pulled all the way out with a laugh. I groaned.
“Mean it,” he said, taunting my clit with his head.
“Fuck me!” I begged. “Please, please, I need you to fuck me!”
I was dizzy with need, greedy and eager, yet I wasn’t so mindless that I wasn’t aware that this was for the audience. This was for their entertainment. This was part of the show, and, in exchange for my shameless pleading, they offered a muttering of delighted approval just as JC slammed inside me.
I came instantly. I kept coming as he pounded into me without mercy, his thrusts fast and furious, refusing to let the rush of ecstasy subside until he was as wrung-out as I was.
He collapsed on top of me, then rolled us so we were face-to-face. Alternately, he studied me and kissed me, his fingers combing through my hair. “That was good, wasn’t it? You loved it as much as I did, didn’t you?”
“Yeah,” I reassured him. “I really did.” I glanced out the door at our onlookers, surprised I didn’t feel awkward now that we’d finished. On the contrary, I felt quite comfortable, even when the curvy woman winked and her Latino friend gave me a thumbs-up. I might have blushed a bit, but I felt more giddy than embarrassed.
“I knew you did.” He brought his thumb to run along my lower lip, and somehow I was positive he was already thinking about doing it again.
“I do have one concern,” I said, nipping at the pad of his thumb.
His brows pressed together with worry. “What’s that?”
“That this has the potential to become extremely addictive.”
He brought his mouth down to mine, his chuckle getting lost in the depth of our kiss. I was glad he’d ended my ability to talk, because if he hadn’t, I would have told him that I wasn’t being completely honest.
I would have told him my concern was that I was pretty sure I was already addicted.
Chapter Eleven
Despite how hard it was to get a night away, going to The Open Door became a regular occurrence for us. We officially declared a regular date night and went to the party once a month through January. In February we went twice because Valentine’s Day. In March we went twice because St. Patrick’s Day and who doesn’t want to public bang for that?
In April when I grew anxious because I couldn’t find an excuse to go twice, I knew I had a problem.
“I think I’m obsessed.” I plopped down into the booth at The Sky Launch where Alayna was working on plans for the club’s redesign. She was finally back from her maternity leave, and I couldn’t be happier because of course she was the only person I could talk to about my sex party addiction.
She looked up from the sketch she’d been studying. “You shouldn’t use the word obsessed lightly around me.”
With tendencies toward obsessive compulsive behavior, Alayna had a reason to be sensitive to the term.
Which was exactly why I’d come to her. “I’m not. I’m seriously concerned about it. I really think I have a problem.”
The Open Door: A Found Duet Novella Page 8
