The Sex Club

by Jasmine Haynes

  The door opened. Eduardo rolled in a trolley with a huge bowl and several condiments; then prepared their salad in front of them. Stephen kept his hand where it was, buried beneath her skirt like a stamp of ownership. He watched her, let his gaze roam her face, and felt the easing of tension that had come over her when Eduardo had returned.

  "Thank you," she murmured as the waiter placed the freshly prepared salad in front of her, then centered Stephen's plate. Eduardo's eyes dropped to her thighs briefly before he exited.

  Stephen ate with his left hand so that he didn't lose contact. She shifted, opening her legs, then cupped his hand to her pussy. Running her hand through her hair, she closed her eyes and arched, rocking against his hand. "Oh, Stephen, you don't know how long I've dreamed about this."

  He'd been dreaming about her, praying for this moment, for seven long months. Watching her, feeling her cream further dampen her panties, he decided he didn't care what she wanted from him. One night or a lifetime, he'd take whatever she gave.

  "I'm sorry," she said on a mere breath, opening sultry eyes to look at him. "I meant to wait until after dinner. I wanted to make this special."

  Everything about her was special. Everything she did, everything she was.

  "Screw dinner. I want to fuck you now." Pulling his hand from her legs, he took her by both arms and pulled her onto his lap, forcing her to straddle him. The dress rose higher, revealing black miniscule panties. He put his lips to her sweet throat, whispering, "I want to make love to you until you scream."

  Hands in his hair, she held him to her, guiding his face to her breasts. "Touch me, Stephen. Please touch me."

  She trembled against his mouth as he pushed aside the sheer bra and took her nipple, sucking the bud into a tight marble. She moaned, twisted his hair in his fingers, crushed him to her, and her hips rode him. He shoved his hands under the dress and pushed the fabric higher, giving her room to open herself fully to him. His cock thrust against his pants, thrust against her. Then he palmed her pussy. She rewarded him with a throaty groan.

  He struggled with the elastic on her panties. He couldn't get them off without letting her go, and that he wasn't willing to do. Nor did he want the tiny scrap of lace between them. Her nipple slipped from his lips as he leaned back, then groped the table. He felt the knife edge, grabbed the handle, then shoved her back against the table.

  She didn't ask him what he was going to do, but trusted that he wouldn't hurt her.

  The elastic popped as he cut each side. Throwing the knife to the floor, he peeled the fabric away. She was so sweet, so hot, her curls glistening with a wealth of dew.

  "Make me come, Stephen," she whispered. "I haven't come since the last time you touched me."

  He stilled with his hands high on her thighs and met her deeply blue gaze. "You didn't even do it yourself?"

  She took his face in her hands. "No. I thought about it. I burned for it. But I knew touching myself wouldn't be as good without you there to watch. I wanted to wait."

  For him. The unspoken words stole around him. She'd always planned to come back. She'd taken care of business, and she'd come back to him with her freedom.

  "Every time I had to stroke myself, I made myself believe it was you touching me," he whispered, "your lips sucking me, your tongue driving me crazy, and your mouth drinking my come."

  He wasn't sure whether he took her lips first or the other way round. He tasted her for the first time in all those long months. Her flavor, sweet with champagne, burst in his mouth. She licked his lips, took his tongue, wrapped her arms around his neck, and devoured him as if her need could never be quenched.

  Then she slowly let him go, resting her forehead to his, her mouth only a breath away. "I should tell you everything. I meant to. Before we did this."

  "Tell me when you come against my hand."

  He clasped her to him, one arm low over her hips, holding her tight, and put his hand between her legs. He slipped two fingers between her folds, sliding first up inside her; then back to the sweet little button. He loved her with his touch. She gasped, threw her head back; matched his rhythm. Her dress caressed his arm, her breath rushed over his hair; her body trembled against him, spasmed to the beat of his fingers.

  "Oh God, Oh God. Oh Stephen." She panted and chanted as he took charge of her clitoris, circling the little nub, then dipping into her slick cream.

  The door opened. Eduardo had the trolley halfway through before he looked up. Then he stopped. Stephen knew he should have removed his hand from her body, but he couldn't, not now, not when she was so close to being his. His fingers moved faster, pressed harder. She writhed in his lap.

  His gaze challenged the young man in the doorway. Stephen closed his eyes as he heard the soft snick of the door, then he shoved two fingers deep inside her, and whispered, "Tell me, tell me now."

  "Oh God, Stephen, I love you so much." She screamed then, something that might have been his name once more. Throbbing, she fucked his fingers like a cock, her pussy milking him as she came hard and long, hugging him tightly as if he were a life preserver.

  When she let him go, all that remained of Eduardo was the trolley with their dinner beneath silver lids.

  Her arms still around him, she sagged against his chest, her breath puffing across his neck. "I love you, Stephen," was almost another wisp of air.

  He heard, held onto the words, tied her to him with their magnitude. "I never stopped loving you."

  She settled closer against him, letting his rigid cock rest between her thighs, only the material of his tuxedo pants separating them.

  "Did you finally accept that I was telling you the truth, that I'll never stop? Never stop loving you or wanting you or needing you?"

  She eased back, stroked his face. "No, Stephen, I didn't."

  He felt as if the air had been sucked from the room. She would leave now. She didn't believe. It was over. Again.

  "After I left my husband, I wanted to call you. I have no idea how many times I picked up the phone, then put it down. I kept thinking, what if it doesn't work? But I finally figured something out. There are no guarantees. You might get tired of me." She raised a brow. "I might get tired of you. I don't think so, but you never know. The point is, I don't know what's going to happen." She touched her lips lightly to his. "The only thing I do know is that if I walk away from the way I feel about you because I'm afraid that I'll get hurt down the road, then I'll be walking away from the chance of having it all, too. Passion, fire, love, desire." She put her forehead to his. "Friendship. Someone who believes in me. Someone who thinks I've got talent. Who tells everyone I'm the greatest. Someone who can't keep his hands off me. Someone who whacks off in the middle of the night thinking about me." She rubbed noses. "Do you know how much all those things mean to me?"

  "Yes, I do. As much as they mean to me."

  She kissed his eyes. Her own widened in surprise at the trace of moisture on her lips.

  He held her face the way she'd held his. Forced her to look into his soul. "I love you. I want to fuck you every night and every morning, for the rest of my life. Even when I'm ninety. My cock will never rest when you're around. And through it all, I'll always be your best friend."

  "Stephen. I've changed my mind. I don't want you to make love to me here."

  "Where then?"

  "Can you wait until you take me home? I want you to make love to me in your bed. So that we can fall asleep with your cock inside me."

  He laughed softly, the sound almost hurting his throat. He hadn't laughed in seven months. "I'll walk stooped over if I have to."

  He helped her rise, setting her on her heels. She made a small sound when she saw the trolley. "Oh my God, when did he bring that?"

  "Right when you were about to come."

  Her face flamed. After everything they'd done, she could still blush. Another thing he loved and cherished about her.

  He took her hand. "I think it was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen in his who
le life. I didn't have the heart to take it away from him." He hadn't had the control to stop himself. Tugging on her fingers, he forced her to look at him. "I only hope he carries that picture with him until he recognizes it in his own soul mate. When he does, he'll know in every part of his being that he'll feel that way forever." He stroked her cheek. "The way I know."

  He turned her hand and kissed her palm. "Do you believe me?"

  She searched his face for an eternity. Then she smiled and whispered, "Yes, Stephen, I do."

  THE END

  About the Author:

  Jasmine Haynes (who also writes for Liquid Silver Books as JB Skully) lives in the California mountains, and she's married to her very own Viking God. Gee, now isn't that a heroic image. She's been making up stories since she was six (her sister still remembers being forced to read those horrible early attempts). She loves writing hot, sexy romance, the stuff fantasies are made. Especially her own. For something no less hot but with a darker edge, try a JB Skully novel.

  Visit Jasmine Haynes and JB Skully at their website http://www.skullybuzz.com

  We invite you to visit Liquid Silver Books http://www.liquidsilverbooks.com

  for other exciting literary erotica romances.

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  Business or Pleasure…or Both? -- Rae Morgan and Jasmine Haynes

  And many, many more!!