Standing behind her, the contessa fit a belly chain to her waist, its diamonds flashing in the room’s lamps. The gold chain warmed against her skin. She’d never worn such a thing, but it made her feel sexy, decadent. Circling her, the woman went down on one knee and slipped on matching anklets. From a pocket in her voluminous white robe, she withdrew a small vial.
“Wet your fingers and pinch your nipples.”
Virginia blinked. The lady waited, a slight curve to her crimson lips and a crinkle of porcelain skin at the corner of her eyes.
With the contessa’s gaze on her, Virginia slid one index finger in her mouth, then tweaked each nipple until they rose to peaks. Tipping the vial onto a finger, her attendant smoothed an exotic perfume, something musky and pagan, around each of Virginia’s nipples and down between her breasts. They started to heat and extend, and she was again assailed by an almost uncomfortable rush of sensuality.
Taking Virginia’s hand in hers, the woman tipped the vial once more. “Rub it on your woman parts.” Even her language was old-fashioned, in keeping with the ceremonial atmosphere of...well, the anointing. That’s how Virginia thought of it. She was being anointed for her lover.
Keeping her gaze warily on the lady, Virginia slipped her finger between her legs and caressed her clitoris, swabbing it with the exotic scent. There, too, she began to heat and pulse. “What is it?”
“The scent your gentleman wishes you to wear.” Then, with a tap of her fingers, she bade Virginia to turn and see herself in the mirror.
“You are beautiful. Your gentleman will be very pleased.”
It felt terribly erotic to be clothed only in Brett’s gifts, her breasts and clitoris thrumming with the application of that secret potion, and the woman’s eyes on her. Black velvet was then draped over her shoulders, a long cloak falling to within an inch of the carpet, and her hair loosened to cascade around her neck and shoulders. Lastly, the woman fitted a blindfold over her eyes.
When Virginia stepped down, the tiny gold bells on the anklets tinkled, and the carpet was soft against her bare feet.
“Perfect. We are ready.” Low and melodic, the contessa’s voice whispered against her hair.
With a gentle hand on Virginia’s arm, the lady then led her from the room. Virginia felt the sudden hush of voices. The only sound was the shush of the contessa’s slippers across the cold marble of the entry hall and the tinkling of the ankle bells. Her cloak was held away from her so she wouldn’t trip on it as she climbed the stairs, and the rush of air told her she was exposed to the eyes of the hushed crowd. The blindfold heightened her other senses, revealing soft whispers, the exotic scent of perfume, the caress of velvet on her heated nipples, and the cool slide of diamonds against her skin. Her body trembled in anticipation, and her mind whirled on what Brett’s surprise would be.
The man was a magician. Her magician.
Chapter Eight
Virginia counted every turn, and the long parade ended after they’d climbed three flights. The contessa knocked, then her hand dropped from Virginia’s arm, and her white robe rustled as she slipped away. The door opened, and Virginia scented him, part expensive cologne, part hungry male, and all Brett. There were other scents, too, the commingling of spices and mouthwatering ingredients, laced with a rash of feminine perfumes. Champagne sizzled, ice cubes chinked, voices murmured, and beneath it all lay the hum of sexual energy. A light laugh to her right, a sigh from the back, a low groan in a corner.
The blindfold added an exciting dimension. She felt him circle her, inhaling deeply. “You smell like hot nights, exotic flowers, and desire.” He exhaled. “Perfect.”
The oil she’d anointed herself with sizzled, her clitoris and nipples plump, extended, achy, and eager for his touch.
Brett reached beneath the cloak, took her hand, and drew her into the room. With the lack of echo, she assumed it was relatively small. Hardwood, then a thick rug beneath her feet, and after six steps he halted.
“Do you like my gifts?” he whispered against her ear with a tantalizing mixture of toothpaste, champagne, and heat.
“I love each piece. Thank you.”
“I have another present. Diamonds to match the ones you’re wearing.” He smoothed her hair back over her shoulders, undid the cloak’s tie at her neck, and let the velvet fall to the floor. Warm air caressed her naked body, and a low murmur rose in front of her. She couldn’t distinguish voices or how many people, but just imagining hungry eyes on her brought a flow of moisture to her center and a rush of heat to her thighs.
Brett shaped something with the feel of leather around her throat, fastened it at her nape, then tested the fit with one finger. A choker or collar, tight but not too tight. He tugged lightly on the choker, his knuckles grazing her skin. The chink of metal on metal filled the room, then a weight pulled on the collar, and something cool and smooth fell between her breasts and across her abdomen. Next he encircled her lower arms with what felt like long metal cuffs. She had no doubt he was manacling her wrists. He stepped away, more sounds, clink, clank. Her mind spun trying to determine what he was doing.
“Does anything hurt?” he asked, returning once more to her side, his body’s heat searing her even through his layers of clothing.
“No.” It felt...incredibly erotic. The weight at her throat, the feel of warming metal caressing chest and belly and binding her wrists. She tested. She could move her hands only perhaps a foot apart, the attached chain or whatever it was, slithering across her breasts. The teasing heat on her nipples and clitoris had retreated, but stimulated, her body manufactured its own warmth now, its own erotic pulse beat.
Then he stepped behind her and tugged the tie on her blindfold, pulling it away from her eyes.
The intimate party gathered all around her resembled her dinner affair of two nights ago, with couples dressed in evening wear. Two waiters circled the room providing drinks and offering hors d'oeuvres. Side tables interspersed sofas and armchairs, with lamps giving off a warm illumination. The ubiquitous candy dishes of colored condoms were placed strategically.
Virginia counted five couples. Wedding rings graced the hands she could see. Three couples snuggled individually on the sofas, a woman sat on the edge of her husband’s armchair, and a dark-haired man stood by a table, his arm curled beneath his blond wife’s breasts as she nestled back against his chest. All midthirties to midforties, pretty and handsome in very ordinary ways, nothing spectacular but that the group as a whole dressed up nicely. The men, good-looking and fit, were boldly assessing, while the women ranged from envious to hungry for the show.
Her husband had manacled her naked in the center of the room, wearing only a collar, a diamond belly chain, and matching anklets, not to mention the little bells that chimed every time she moved. He’d fastened six-inch-long golden arm bands above her wrists, the detailing in the metalwork breathtaking. The individual bracelets were attached by a chain of the same braided gold as the one at her throat. A leash of sorts, it ran from her choker, through a loop in the arm band chain to a sturdy brass post resembling an old-fashioned horse hitch.
Her body liquefied, dampening her thighs, and she trembled, delicious shivers running down her spine. What on earth did he have planned this time? She was weak-kneed with anticipation.
Brett’s dark gaze surveyed her beaded nipples, the flush heating her skin, and the quickened pace of her breath, then he raised her confined hands to his lips. “Ladies and gentlemen, my wife Regina.” He used her club name.
Then he tipped a glass of champagne against her lips. “Drink,” he urged. She sipped, then he swooped in to lick the sweetness from her mouth. His semi-kiss sent heat shimmering through her belly, and a tingle tangoed between her legs.
“More,” he ordered, and this time she took two long swallows, the sparkling wine fizzling in her throat and immediately going to her head.
He took in her wide eyes and leaned close to whisper, “Enjoy. This is all for you.” His finger trailed her ba
re arm as he pulled away, a half smile on his lips. Then he turned to his audience. “Gentlemen, consider your bids carefully. My wife is a prize like no other. And you only get one chance.”
Bids? She was the prize? He couldn’t possibly mean it. This wasn’t the surprise she’d been anticipating, not at all. His face was unreadable, his voice calm and controlled. She looked at him. He wasn’t the man who’d begged her to fuck him up in their bedroom. And he certainly wasn’t the man she’d kissed good-bye on the cheek this morning.
“What about their wives?” Surely the wives would put a stop to it.
“That was one of the questions during my interview process. A wife who desired watching her husband fuck another woman.”
He’d interviewed these people? Oh my God. “What were the other questions?” She was terrified to think.
“They had to get a hard-on looking at your photograph.” One eyebrow rose. “Not a naked photograph, darling. But then none of them needed to see you naked.” He tapped her nose and whispered, “All that passion you exude shows in the eyes.” He pulled back and raised his voice. “I feel the bidding will go quite high to get a piece of your ass, my love.”
“They’re going to make bids to see who fucks me?” Please don’t do this to me.
He grinned like a feral animal. “Yes.”
“And you’re going to watch?”
“Hell, yes.”
Another thought punched her, one worse than the idea of Brett giving her to another man. “Do you get the winner’s wife?”
“That part’s up to you.” He covered her mouth before she could answer. “Tell me”—he arched a brow—“later.”
Now or later, she wasn’t going to let him so much as touch another woman. And she didn’t want any of his assembled bidders. She wanted only him.
“Why are you doing this?” She felt all her fear seeping through the question.
The night of the cocktail party had been glorious. She’d never felt so desired. How could he take it all away now?
Circling her, he came up behind, pulling her against him, the hard ridge of his cock nestling along her spine. Grabbing her chin, he turned her head, kissed her, openmouthed, then licked the seam of her lips before drawing back. “Trust me,” he whispered.
Trust him to do what? Provide the latest erotic thrill in a marriage that, for being so short in duration, had provided almost more thrills that she could cope with? She wasn’t sure she could cope with this one. Yet...
Trust me. He’d given her more in their short marriage than she’d ever expected. Ever hoped for. He’d amazed her, delighted her, made her tremble. And he hadn’t once disappointed her. Each new surprise was infinitely better than the last. He seemed to know what she wanted, what she needed. Always. His demands were as much give as they were take. With this night, he sought to provide something she craved. She could only hope he understood what she didn’t want as much as what she did.
Trust me. Those two words said everything. He did understand. Perfectly. With a slight curving of her mouth, she gave herself over to him completely.
He swiped his tongue along her cheek in a gesture of ownership. “Show the bidders your wares, darling.” He cupped her breasts, plumping them for her spectators, flicking the nipples until they peaked, so hard it was almost painful yet wholly delicious, especially with the potion still casting its lingering effect over her.
Flattening his palm against her chest, he arched her, then slid a hand down her belly, skimming the chain at her waist, and delved into her pussy. She gasped, the scent of her own arousal rising, clouding her senses. Or perhaps intensifying them. His finger felt unbearably hot, extreme, overwhelming. It was the potion, but more, it was Brett. She melted into the pleasure of his touch and all those eyes on her.
“You’re wet. Spread your legs. Show them your hot pussy.” With a knee, he parted her thighs and braced her against him. “I want them to see what a juicy piece you are. How much you love my touch.” He circled her clit. Her legs trembled, and he held her up. “Open your eyes. Watch how you excite them.”
His voice was coarsely demanding. She didn’t even consider disobeying.
The dark-haired man, his wife’s back to him, slid his palm down the center of her dress, caressing her between the legs in conscious or unconscious imitation of Brett’s ministrations. The woman moaned, wound her arm back around his neck, and rotated her hips. On the couch, another man unzipped his pants and forced his companion’s mouth to his cock.
Brett pushed a finger inside her and Virginia rose on her toes to allow him the deepest penetration. Her vision swam, her head dizzied, the scent of sex and desire perfuming the very air she breathed. Like an aphrodisiac, it spiked her arousal higher. She started to pant.
“They see what a perfect fuck you’re going to make.” Then his hand was gone as he reached around to take the leash attached to her collar and forced her to the carpet. “Hands and knees,” he murmured, his voice harsh with his own need. “Spread wide. I want them to see how creamy you are.”
The manacles were too close to allow her to comfortably rest on her palms, so she leaned on her elbows, her ass high, her legs spread. Brett took advantage of her position to come at her from the rear and slip a finger along the folds of her pussy. The first contact with her clitoris shot a bolt of need straight up to her womb. She pushed back on him, trying to fuck his finger.
It was almost surreal. Efficient, poised Virginia Branoff, naked and spread doggie-style on the carpet, undulating as if she were begging to be fucked in front of a small crowd. She’d have laughed if she wasn’t already on fire inside.
A stocky figure rose from a couch, pulling his cock free of his slacks. Slowly stroking, he advanced. Brett took one step back, only one. The man circled her. On the sofa he’d vacated, another man lay back and pulled a red-clad woman on top, raising her dress and impaling her in one swift movement.
“Does she suck?” the stocky guy asked. Virginia felt his gaze on her mouth as he pumped himself, faster, the tip of his cock engorged. If she could have raised her eyes to see his face, judge the handsomeness of it, she would have. But all she could see was that cock and the swift movements of his hand.
“She loves the taste of come in her mouth.” Brett’s voice, low, guttural. She wanted to taste his come right now. Pulling up on the chain, he forced her to look at him. “And she will do anything and everything the winner tells her to do.”
Anything? Everything? Trust me. She bobbed her head.
Beside her, the potential bidder leaned down, closed his eyes, and drew in a long breath. “She smells good.” Then he reached for a globe of her upturned ass.
“Don’t make me have to break your fingers,” Brett growled. He meant it, and Virginia nearly came with the violent sound.
The man withdrew his hand in a snap. Someone gasped, a female, but Virginia couldn’t tell which one.
Still stroking, his cock head now purpled and needy, he eyed Brett. “May we have a demonstration?”
“I’d be only too happy to oblige.” Brett unzipped, set himself free, and raised Virginia by the leash until she could grab his thighs for support. His gaze was rich with need. He put a hand beneath her chin, stroking her with his thumb. “Take me,” he whispered. A command, yet a plea.
The gentle tone drowned out all the other sounds around them. There was simply his voice, his hand on her, and his offering.
Then he cupped her head and fed his cock into her mouth. The first taste was like ambrosia, a heady mixture of salt and sweet. She let him slide back across her tongue, deep into the recesses of her mouth. Against the tip of his cock, she hummed her pleasure, and he jerked. She put her fingers to his testicles, squeezing lightly.
“Christ. She’s going to make me come.” And he pulled from her lips. Virginia turned her face, leaning against him, a streak of his juice wetting her cheek, his salty taste piquant on her tongue.
The bidder studied his watch. “Jesus. That was less than fifte
en seconds.” He pumped himself more ferociously.
Brett tucked his cock away, his slacks tenting over the enormous erection he sported. “She’s worth every penny.” That half smile creased his mouth again. “I know what I’m talking about.” He looked down at her, stroking her temple with just the tips of two fingers. “You will never find another to give you such ultimate satisfaction. You will never want another.”
Despite his words filling the room, he spoke only to her. Her heart flared, and her pulse jumped.
His fist pumping fast and hard, the man didn’t even get that they’d just had a moment. “I want to come on her face.” His eyes had begun to glaze. His breath rasped in his throat, his mouth open to grab a gulp of air.
“Nothing of yours touches her, not your hand, not your cock, and not your come. Do it on the floor,” Brett demanded.
The man’s eyes bulged slightly, then he threw his head back, and his semen spurted in an arc from his cock, splattering the hardwood at the edge of the expensive carpet. An attendant quickly cleaned it up.
After a deep sigh, the stocky, now-florid man glanced at Virginia as she nestled against Brett’s thighs. “Don’t worry,” the guy muttered, “there’s more where that came from. You’ll savor every drop as much as I’m going to savor you.”
She realized her original assessment of the crowd was correct. Though good-looking, the man was still ordinary. Thick blond hair, a solid chin, a passable nose, and decently defined muscles, he wasn’t bad. Yet there wasn’t one single outstanding feature.
She’d wanted men to desire her, to lust after her, to jerk off for want of her. Perspiration beaded on her forehead, and a flush swept her body, but with Brett’s hand slowly stroking her hair, she closed her eyes and savored his caress far more than that man’s come down her throat.
“Sit.” Brett pointed, and the guy scurried back to his place on the sofa.
Tugging once more on the chain leash, Brett helped her to her feet. Sliding a hand along her nape, he tangled his fingers in her hair and drew her head back. “Look.”
Invitation to Pleasure: Open Invitation, Book 2 Page 9
