by Alice Gaines
“I attended public schools, but I got most of my education on the streets, namely East Fourteenth.”
Now renamed International Boulevard, East Fourteenth Street was regularly featured in murder stories on the news. He got his education there?
“You could have gone to college,” she said.
“Yeah, sure. If my mom had had a bunch of money and someone had taken the entrance exam for me.”
“No, really. You seem very smart.”
“It’s okay, princess. I like where my life is now.”
“Bobby . . .” She glanced up at him and broke into laughter. He was an absolute mess: his face was a disaster area of berries and chocolate. Instead of the bad biker dude, he resembled a kid in a high chair who’d been playing with his food.
She covered her mouth with her fingers. “You should see yourself. I’ve never seen anything so funny in my life.”
“I wouldn’t talk,” he said. “You look like someone’s been making mud pies in your pussy.”
“Someone has.” She absolutely couldn’t stop laughing. After Howard’s death and her very real grief, the army of lawyers and the interference of her stepsons, the detectives following her around, and the paranoia that had her looking behind every bush, laughter felt like medicine. She let it come, rolling over her in waves. Each time she got a breath, she kept right on laughing.
“All right, Miss Giggles. Time to hit the showers.” Before she realized his intent, he hauled her upward and tossed her over his shoulder. As if she weighed no more than a pillow, he carried her into the bathroom.
Once there, he pulled open the glass door to the huge shower and set her onto her feet inside. She’d hardly caught her breath when he turned on all the faucets. The water held a chill for a moment, and she yelped, but then the sprays heated, and steam rose all around them.
The shower had heads on all four walls, so beads of water pounded into her from all directions. What a sensual massage, far more than anything necessary to clean a person. She stretched and turned, letting the currents sluice all over her. Luxury! Just like everything else here, including the man who was teaching her the true meaning of sex.
The man in question had tipped his head up under the nearby spray. When the mess had washed away, he rubbed his hands over his face and then shook himself like a dog. He was a marvelous specimen, all sleek muscle. His hair clung to his head, and droplets of water nestled into his eyelashes. His eyes shone crystal blue as he watched her.
“Time to clean you off,” he said as he reached to the soap dish. He selected a bar and removed the wrapping, dropping the crumpled paper to the floor. After working a healthy lather between his palms, he reached for her.
They both knew where she needed cleaning, and by now she certainly had no reason to deny him any access to her body. She parted her legs and allowed him to burrow his fingers into the apex of her thighs. He watched her face as he stroked her lips slowly.
She held his gaze as he continued, but inside she melted. He could turn her to goo so easily, and he did it again. Probing, he found the entrance to her pussy and inserted a finger inside her. Her eyelids grew heavy as he pushed into her, now with two fingers.
“Do you ever masturbate in the shower?” he asked.
She shook her head.
“You should. It’s a great way to start the day,” he said. “Let me show you a trick.”
He removed the handheld showerhead from its holder and fiddled with the dial for a second. When he handed it to her, the spray came out in a hard, pulsing rhythm. “Aim that at your clit.”
She did as he’d suggested, adjusting the spray until it hit her in just the right place. “Oh, that’s good.”
“Would I lie to you?”
Yet another way to achieve orgasm. She’d never look at one of these showerheads the same way again. It kept pulsing, each little ping against her clitoris sending a jolt through her. When her knees went weak, he caught her around the waist to hold her up. Then his hand went to her breast, squeezing and toying with the nipple.
He’d turned her into a carnal creature. No more shyness or fear. Whatever he offered, she’d take. She’d climax every time he touched her and come back for more.
“Want to get even more creative, princess?” he said.
“Hm?” She gazed at him through eyes that didn’t focus.
He took her free hand and guided it to his cock. It hadn’t diminished or softened since he’d eaten her. She stroked him all the way from his sac to the tip, squeezing the head of him gently. Groaning, he closed his eyes halfway.
“Feeling adventurous?” he asked.
“What did you have in mind?”
He took the showerhead from her hand and slid it back into its holder. “It can get kind of intense.”
“What can?”
“The position,” he said. “You’ll be spread wide, and you might bump up against the wall a bit.”
“You’ll kiss my boo-boos if I get hurt?” she asked.
“I’ll kiss you anywhere you want.”
“Okay, let’s give it a try.” Whatever “it” was. Being spread wide while he did something intense sounded pretty good, especially because her clitoris still throbbed from the spray of water against it.
The light in his eyes turned brighter as he took her hands and raised them above her head to the shower fixture. “Hold onto that.”
As she wrapped her fingers around the metal, he reached to the soap dish again. This time, he produced a square packet. She raised an eyebrow.
He held the packet up to her. “These are stashed everywhere. Part of the job.”
“I’m glad.” Because, honestly, having to search for the condom would lessen the moment. She’d stretched herself out for him, almost hanging from the shower fixture. Ready for whatever he had in mind for her. This was not a good time for distractions.
He tore open the packet and unfurled the condom along his shaft. Suddenly, he looked perfectly huge, and she could have every inch. Her pussy responded, releasing hot moisture onto her thighs. She’d need to be wet to take all of him.
“You have no idea what you do to me when you look like that,” he said.
“Like what?”
“As if you can’t get enough of me,” he said. “That you need me right now.”
“Maybe I do.”
“Then let’s not make you wait.” He bent and guided her legs around him. The action lifted her completely off the floor, and she hung on to the shower fixture for balance. In this position, she was split as wide as her legs could go, her pussy exposed. With a shift of his own hips, he brought the head of his cock to her entrance, and he pushed forward, impaling her.
She’d never had anyone so deep inside her, not even with Bobby earlier. Before this, she couldn’t have imagined such total penetration. Intense, he’d said. He hadn’t exaggerated. She closed her eyes and let out a whimper.
“Am I hurting you?” he asked.
“No. Oh, God, no. It feels so . . .”
“Good?”
“Oh, Bobby,” she whispered.
“I guess that’s a yes.” He pulled nearly out and pressed into her again. So large, each inch of him stroked her inner walls. With the water still spraying against them, he set a steady rhythm of thrust and retreat. Their ragged breathing filled the space around them, bounced off the walls, and came back to ring in her ears.
If she’d thought she understood the term “fucking” before, she had to add a whole new definition now. Each forward surge brought her hard against him, jolting her clitoris in much the same way the spray of water had. That, plus the incredible fullness of the passage of his cock, created a lethal combination.
“Come for me,” he whispered.
“Oh, yes.”
“There’s nothing like feeling you come all around me. You grip me tight and then go crazy.”
That was pretty much what it felt like from her side, too, and it was like nothing else in the world. She’d experience th
at again soon as he picked up the pace. She slapped against him with every movement, and the sense of inevitability loomed. She could hold the climax off for a little while, enjoy as much of him as she could take, but eventually it would catch up with her, and she’d have to surrender.
“Damn, I need it,” he said. “This is so fucking good.”
“Intense.”
“Want more?” he asked.
“Please.” What could possibly be more than what he was already giving to her?
She didn’t ask, but he answered, anyway. Never breaking their connection, he lifted her higher and slammed into her. He grunted with the effort of every thrust, and her back did hit the tiles, but it paled in comparison to the violence inside her. The tide rose and rose. She could only hang on as the orgasm claimed her, all the way from the tips of her toes to the roots of her hair. She tensed as wave after wave of ecstasy rushed through her. The convulsions followed, rhythmic and strong, grasping at his cock where it still moved inside her.
His orgasm came right after hers. As deeply as he’d penetrated her, she could almost sense the pressure building in his sac and then the release of his semen. His shouts ricocheted off the shower walls. Proof that she’d given him as much pleasure as he had her. He held her hard against him for several seconds as he finished, and then with a sigh, he lowered her to the floor.
His arms closed around her, and she rested against his chest. She’d made quite a habit of this in the last few hours—tucking her head under his chin and feeling his heart slow down under her palm. Slowly, the real world intruded. The feel of tiles under her feet and the sprays of water against her shoulders and back.
“Good thing the hot water didn’t run out,” she said.
“The club has an unlimited supply,” he said. “For obvious reasons.”
She ran her arms around his waist and hugged him. “So, is there anything you can’t do?”
“I’m not much of a bowler.”
“What a relief. I was afraid you might be perfect.”
“I’m not the perfect man for you, princess. You deserve better,” he said.
She glanced up at him. He wore a wistful, almost sad expression, his gaze not focusing in the here and now. It was the first sign of vulnerability he’d given her. The first indication that he had more to him than good times and laughs.
“I can’t imagine anyone better than you, Bobby,” she said.
“Sure you can,” he said. “You’ll meet someone like that as soon as you let yourself. Lots of someones like that.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Well, hey . . . looks like the post-sex glow got to me. Forget I said anything.”
“Okay.” She wouldn’t, though. He meant more than a simple roll in the hay. Or several rolls in the hay, none of them simple.
“You know what I need?” he said.
She grinned up at him. “I bet it isn’t more sex.”
“Not for the next few minutes,” he said. “Right now, I need food. Protein.”
“You just ate a full meal.” Some of it off very interesting places on her body.
“Yeah, but you made me work it off.”
“I forced you, huh?”
“Damned straight. You’re”—he bent his lips to her ear—“insatiable.”
His breath tickled, and she giggled. She could do that a lot with this man. She could do many things with this man that didn’t fit into her real life. Nothing here at Club Ecstasy was real, and yet this place mattered in ways the outside world didn’t.
“Come on.” He grabbed her hand and tugged her out of the shower. “Let’s get something to eat.”
Chapter Four
THEY ATE IN a private room in Club Ecstasy’s spa. Bobby had declared the place too “woo-woo” and suggested the main restaurant, but Cassandra insisted on the privacy. They ended up in a setting reminiscent of a rain forest with ferns growing under recessed lighting and a floor-to-ceiling waterfall spilling into a pool with ornamental carp.
Bobby scowled as he studied the menu. “This is all bird food.”
“How long have you worked at the club?” Cassandra asked.
“About three months.”
“And you’ve never eaten here?”
“Not food, if you get my drift,” he said.
She did. She’d been his appetizer about an hour ago up in their suite.
He tapped the end of her nose. “You’re doing it again.”
“What?”
“Blushing. When your skin turns pink, it makes your blue eyes sparkle. But what I really like is the expression on your face when I sink my cock into you. Halfway between surprise and ‘fuck yeah!’”
“Don’t talk that way.”
“Hey.” He shrugged. “We’re alone. Besides, everyone who works here knows what goes on in the rooms.”
“They don’t need to hear the details.”
“What are you afraid of, princess?” he asked. “Why the need for such total privacy?”
“I’d think that would be obvious.”
“One, the staff here are sworn to secrecy.” He raised one finger and then followed that with a second. “And two, the clients have to keep each other’s secrets or they’d be exposed themselves. Unless . . .” He tipped his chair back onto two legs and studied her for a moment. “Unless you’re using me to cheat on someone.”
“Scruples?” she said. “Is that allowed in your business?”
He tipped his chair back down with a thud. “I’m a professional. I do my job.”
“But some things get under your skin.”
“What a woman does with her own relationships is her business. I like to know who I’m dealing with.”
“My husband died,” she said.
For a moment, Bobby’s expression turned serious. “I’m sorry.”
“Thank you.”
“You didn’t seem the type to cheat.”
“Thank goodness for that,” she said. “I wish you could convince my stepsons.”
“Little kids don’t understand cheating. Not that kind, anyway.”
Here it came. The moment she’d have to explain her life to him. She could simply tell him she didn’t want to share personal information, but that would sound strange given all the very personal things they’d done with each other. Instead of saying anything, she studied the menu.
Their waiter appeared and spared her having to answer. Bobby glanced at the menu again and handed it to the man. “Never mind any of this foliage. Ask the kitchen to make me a T-bone steak—very rare—and some of those french fries.
“The pommes frites?” the waiter asked.
“Yeah, those.”
“I’ll have the poached halibut with quinoa and a small green salad with vinaigrette on the side.” Cassandra handed her menu to the waiter a bit more gently than Bobby had.
When the waiter left, Bobby leaned toward her, his elbows on the table. “So tell me, what’s so frightening about your stepsons?”
“Well, you see . . .” She might as well tell him everything. If the stepsons managed to take her to court, it would all come out in the press, anyway. “They aren’t little kids. One of them is older than me.”
“How did that happen?”
“The usual way.” She waved her hand in what ought to be a casual gesture. “Children by a previous wife.”
“No, princess. How is it you married a man who already had kids when you were born?”
Put that way, her relationship with Howard sounded really ugly, as if he’d picked out a wife from the bassinette next to his son’s in the hospital. The marriage hadn’t felt that way on their wedding day, but the age difference had reared its ugly head later. And how.
“He was much older than me,” she said.
“I’d say.”
She glared at Bobby, or did her best to, anyway. “He was a friend of my family. Everyone agreed we’d make a good match.”
“Uh-huh.”
“You needn’t disapprove,” she
said. “It’s not your business.”
“You got that right.” He leaned back and stared at the waterfall. Under the table, his foot was wagging.
He could pry all he wanted. Her life outside Club Ecstasy wasn’t his business.
Their food arrived. The waiter put the plates down in front of them and left again. The halibut looked wonderful, garnished with tiny vegetables and sitting on top of a small serving of quinoa. Because this was spa cuisine, the sauce dotted around the plate was no doubt a vegetable puree and wouldn’t ruin her diet.
Bobby tore into his steak as if he hadn’t eaten in days. He didn’t speak as he cut off hunks of rare beef, stuffed them into his mouth, and chewed. After a bit, he put down his fork and knife and wiped his lips with his napkin. “So, client, what would you like to do next?”
“You don’t have to get pissy.”
“I’m not. I don’t get paid to get pissy.” He picked up a french fry and held it up toward her mouth. She took it and set it on her plate.
“All right. I thought marrying Howard was good idea, too. What did I know about anything? I was a virgin.”
“So, they married you off,” he said. “I didn’t think we did that in the twenty-first century.”
“It wasn’t as bad as it sounds. Howard was a good husband. He did his best.”
“But he never rocked your world, did he, princess?” He reached over and stroked the side of her face.
“I had orgasms.” That wasn’t a lie. Her marriage hadn’t failed utterly in the bedroom.
“Like the ones I give you?”
She glanced downward. “No.”
“Then he never rocked your world.”
“Do we have to talk about this?” She pushed her plate away, the food nearly untouched.
“I want to understand what makes you the way you are.” The glint returned to his eyes. “All the better to serve you.”
“No, I want to know about you,” she said. “Besides East Fourteenth Street. There must be more to you than that.”
