They were halfway through a carafe of sangria when the hairs on the back of her neck stood at attention. She felt him. She smelled him. Master.
Greg looked past her, a small frown bisecting his brow, even though he continued to smile.
She felt his hand on her shoulder. “How’s the sangria this evening?”
His voice slid over her, through her.
Slowly, deliberately she turned and looked over her shoulder.
“Hello.”
THE END
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BY THE HOUR, A TLANTA , Book 2
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CHAPTER ONE
He was gorgeous…and young. Arden Watson registered those two things immediately. Here she was, face-to-face with a lover who’d been faceless and nameless for nearly a month , while her other lover, Greg, was sitting right across the table.
She trembled. There were things she’d known about him from touch and proximity. She knew he was a little over six feet tall and that his shoulders were broad and he was muscular. She knew he was a thicker build than Greg; not fat, just thicker, and a bit heavier. She knew his hair was short. Now she filled in some of the blanks.
His hair was a dark brown. The faint stubble she’d felt against her skin during their encounters shadowed a strong jaw. But it was his eyes that arrested her. Fringed by short dark lashes, they were the most unusual blend of light green and gray. What she saw in them…amusement…fury….betrayal…possession… wrecked her composure.
Greg stood, tall, lean and sophisticated. “Aren’t you going to introduce us?” Although he spoke to Arden, he looked at Him. Tension crackled between the two men as they sized one another up, opponents squaring off.
“Of course.” She mentally scrambled. She didn’t know His name and she was at a loss as to how to reference him. She looked to her left at him again and for a second she was in danger of sinking into his gray-green eyes, but sanity and the intrusive clink of silverware and laughter from a neighboring table pulled her back to the moment. She nodded toward Greg. “This is Greg Stanton.” She looked to Greg. “Greg , this is…” she paused and then plunged ahead, going the only direction she knew to go. She looked at Him again. “I apologize but your name escapes me.”
A derisive smile curved his mouth. That mouth that had brought her such pleasure. She doubted Greg would recognize the derision, but she knew Him. The look in his eyes taunted her. They both knew damn well her only reference to him had been Master.
He wouldn’t dare.
His look assured her he would dare, but not this time.
“Curtis. Curtis Mitchell.” He extended his hand. “Craig was it?”
“Greg,” he corrected with a knowing smile as he shook hands. “Why don’t you join us?” he said as he sat back down and nodded to the seat across from him, to Arden’s left. Leaning back casually in his chair, he added, “Have a drink.”
It was clearly a challenge. Greg had to feel the sexual energy between her and Him…Curtis. Likewise, Curtis had to be picking up on the sexual vibe she and Greg shared. Arden felt supercharged with all the sexual energy crackling around the table.
Curtis accepted the challenge, reflecting the same studied casualness. “Sure. My group isn’t here yet.” He dropped into the chair directly across from her.
It was difficult not to stare. She’d wondered for so long what he looked like. Now she knew. He was beautiful in a raw masculine way. It was also clear to her he’d deliberately seated himself right in front of her and not where Greg had indicated.
He looked at Arden, the intimacy in his eyes unmistakable. The memory of the silk robe, nipple clips and him licking her pussy until she was mindless pulsed between them. Equally blatant was his dismissal of Greg as he addressed her across the table. “So, how do you guys know one another?”
Arden strove to maintain a relaxed demeanor even though her heart was racing. Despite his casual tone, it wasn’t a casual question. He asked like a man who had a right to know. She glanced at Greg, who was sitting back watching with a slight smile. “Greg sat in on a presentation I made to his firm.”
“Ah, work comrades.” Amused disdain colored Curtis’ voice and curled his sensual lips.
Greg, wearing a deliberate smile, reached out and lightly traced his fingertip along Arden’s forearm. His touch affected her as it always did; she wanted more. It was insane that they both turned her on, even with the other one there.
“That’s how we met,” he said, the look in his eyes caressing her as surely as his fingers against her skin. His look and touched staked her as his. He glanced at Curtis, leaving his fingers resting lightly, and deliberately, on Arden’s wrist. “There’s no work to it now.” She’s mine.
Curtis nodded. “Interesting.” You’re mistaken if you think she’s yours.
Testosterone thickened the air. She reminded herself to breath.
“It has been extremely interesting.” Greg stroked her wrist and she quivered inside. “Beauty and intelligence, quite a combination. And how do you know one another?”
She’d answered when Curtis asked earlier. She answered Greg now.
“Curtis works with my friend Janice.”
“Ah, a mutual friend.” He offered a slight smirk. “It makes perfect sense you wouldn’t remember Curt’s name.”
Curtis shifted slightly, that one movement betraying the slightest bit of uncertainty. His leg brushed against hers beneath the table. Even that brief touch threw her into a state of confusion. Greg’s hand on her wrist. Curtis’s leg against her knee.
Master. Master. Master. Her breath hitched in her throat. An arrogant smile edged in wickedness lit his gray-green eyes, his moment of uncertainty vanishing like a curl of smoke. “Sometimes names simply don’t matter.”
Whatever was going to be said next was lost as their waitress arrived. She pasted on a on a smile that didn’t quite compensate for her harried demeanor. “Sorry it took me so long. Can I get you a drink?”
Curtis looked beyond her and someone obviously caught his eye. He held up one finger in a be-there-in-a-minute gesture. “No, thanks. I’m about to switch tables.” He smiled at the waitress. It was as if a switch had been flipped. Despite the fact that she was obviously stretched thin, her return smile proclaimed she was interested if he was interested.
“Even if you change tables, let me know if I can get you anything,” she said.
Curtis nodded. “Thanks.”
She shot him one more smile and moved on.
Arden felt a very real stab of jealousy over the twenty-something waitress who had paused a few seconds longer than necessary.
“My people are here,” he said as he stood, which put him towering over the table. Greg remained seated but that too was a power play. Curtis’s gaze caught and held hers. “Let’s see, you rescheduled,” he said, “so I’ll see you next Thursday.”
Rescheduled…next Thursday. He hadn’t touched her, but he’d obviously just staked his own claim.
She’d wondered if he still wanted to see her. Did she still want to see him? She could tell him a conflict had arisen or she had a shift in schedule. She could, but she wouldn’t. She wanted to see him again. Even though having seen him and knowing his name now changed everything, in some regards it had changed nothing. The one thing it didn’t change was how much he turned her on.
She nodded, having made her decision. “I’ll see you then.”
He looked over at Greg. “Stanton.” You’re unimportant. She’s mine.
Greg inclined his head. “Mitchell.” You’re dismissed. She’s mine.
Curtis walked away, swallowed by the crowd near the bar and hostess stand. Despite all the noise in the restaurant around them, a silence settled at their table. Arden waited.
Greg casually raised his glass and sipped the sangria. “Well,” he finally said, “that was interesting.”
They all knew what had just happened. She shrugged, playing it cool. Interesting wasn’t exactly
the word she would choose to describe the three of them sitting around a table. “I suppose.”
“You only suppose? “ He rubbed his left thumb against her wrist bone. “I find it very interesting that you rescheduled a meeting with a man and you can’t recall his name.”
She didn’t quite know what to say , but she felt she should muddle through some explanation. “Greg, I—“
He leaned in closer and cut her off with a gentle finger against her lips, his other hand still on her wrist. “Shh, it’s okay. It must be rather exciting for you to have two lovers facing off over you.” He wrapped his fingers about her wrist. “Of course it’s exciting. Your pulse is racing. I bet my lovely pussy is dripping wet now, isn’t it?”
Yes, it was exciting. She’d been on edge the entire time and uncertain but also incredibly turned on by the possession in both men’s eyes and manner. She was wet, aroused…and confused. She didn’t know what she’d expected from Greg, but his indulgent tolerance threw her off-guard. “Yes.”
“What? You thought I’d be angry? Jealous?” He chuckled. “You rescheduled him. I’m here with you now and he’s somewhere across the room.” She was dying to know if he was with a woman. Not that she had any right to object. “Mitchell isn’t my concern.” He was watching. She could feel him. “Giving you what you want, what you need, that’s my concern. “ His eyes held the memory of her splayed over him, him diddling her while she licked his cock.
She breathed a sigh of relief. He wasn’t going to demand she choose. She didn’t know which one she’d choose if forced. She didn’t want to give up either man.
He leaned in closer to her ear, the scent of his expensive cologne coupled with the tease of his breath against her skin an aphrodisiac. “How wet are you?”
Greg stroked the underside of her wrist with his thumb. It felt intimate and arousing in the crowded restaurant. Picking up her glass, she sipped her wine. She finally answered. “Very.”
She was on fire. She shifted in her seat. He needed to stop stroking her wrist, but she didn’t have the willpower to pull her arm away from his touch. “Greg, let’s go. ”
“So soon? You haven’t even finished your wine.” He released her arm and leaned back in his chair, shaking his head in amuse d indulgence. She recognized his smile and the glint in his eyes. He had something special planned for her. Anticipation coiled through her. “Go to the ladies’ room and take off your panties.”
Lightheaded from her heart pounding so hard, she pushed away from the table and stood. Greg stood as well. She felt Curtis watching.
“Excuse me.” She placed her napkin on the table, tucking her purse under her arm. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
Greg’s smile was sure, confident, in control. He caught her wrist between his fingers. “Remember, no touching. It’s all mine.”
For now. For tonight. “I remember,” she said.
Both of her lovers watched her as she made her way to the restroom.
Arden waited impatiently for a stall to open. When it did, she had her panties off within seconds. They were drenched. But she’d already known that. She shoved them into the bottom of her purse and stepped out of the stall, before she gave into the temptation to finger her pussy just once.
She stopped long enough to glance at herself in the mirror and smooth her hair with an unsteady hand. She looked the way she felt, like a ripe fruit about to burst. Her eyes glittered. Everything about her felt full and engorged – her lips, her nipples, her pussy. Full…ripe…juicy.
As she made her way back to the table, a guy in the bar tried to stop her. She ignored him. Her attention was on Greg, waiting at the table, relaxed, reading something on his phone, and on Him, across the room.
Putting aside his phone, Greg stood, “Ah, the beauty returns.” He pulled out her chair for her, shifting it nearer to his . “Here, let’s move you a little closer.”
“Thank you,” she murmured as she sat. She placed her napkin on her lap.
He returned to his seat. “Open your legs.”
His conversational, matter-of-fact instruction turned her on even more. He could’ve been discussing the weather or the crowd in the tapas bar.
Arden shifted her legs apart, feeling the rush of air against her bare, wet pussy. Oh, God.
His fingers brushed against her thigh and she tensed in anticipation. She raised her wine glass and sipped, unsure of what else to do.
Greg chuckled. “Have you ever come before in the middle of a busy restaurant?”
For one second she teetered on the verge of hysterical laughter. She had done so many things in the last month that she’d never done before. Her life had become surreal in a very good way. “At least once a week.”
He quirked an eyebrow in question.
“No. I never have.” Master would have recognized her humor.
She saw it in Greg’s eyes. He knew what she’d just thought. Perhaps not exactly the thought but he knew it involved Curtis Mitchell. He teased a finger along her slit. “No, what?”
She knew what he wanted. “No, sir.”
“It should be interesting.” He slipped a finger inside her. “Oh, you are all slippery wet, aren’t you? Interesting seems to be the word of the evening now doesn’t it?”
She forced herself not to rock against his finger. “Yes, it does.”
“It will be interesting to watch you come with everyone around us.” While your other lover watches me finger you to an orgasm. “Don’t you agree?” He tugged on her labia, while some part of his hand or finger or something brushed against her clit.
Ohhh. She clutched the wine glass tighter. “Yes, that will be very interesting.”
“Mind you don’t break the wine stem there, pet.” Two fingers inside her. The heel of his palm riding against her clit. “Hmm, will I allow you to come, which will be interesting for you to do so without the entire establishment knowing, or should I just play with your sweet pussy but not allow you to come? Definitely interesting.”
It was intensely erotic, his fingers plying her dripping vagina in the middle of a crowded restaurant, driving her mad while she had to maintain a public façade. She felt deviant and wickedly alive. And he was toying with her on all levels, leaving her guessing as to whether he’d actually bring her to a climax. She’d play the game with him, but she knew. He wanted Curtis to see Greg make her come.
“You like this, don’t you?” she said.
“I am rather enjoying it.” He deliberately massaged her clitoris. “I don’t need to ask if you are. You’re radiant and my little pussy is so wet and plump. Oh, yes.”
Oh…she was…oh…. Arden forced herself to breathe as normally as possible. “Yes.”
“Relax, pet. I think you’re so ready you’re about to explode and I’m going to take care of you. I’m not going to let you leave all tense and wound up.” He stroked and teased. “Oh, yes, that feels good, now doesn’t it?”
Good was inadequate. Good didn’t begin to describe it. “Yes, it…does…feel…extremely…good.”
“Your beautiful face is so expressive, pet. I can see how much you’re enjoying it.”
They both knew Curtis knew exactly what she looked like in the throes of passion and he would know. He would know Greg was fingering her to a climax. She looked down at her plate and put her left hand up to her forehead, giving herself some privacy. Greg stilled his fingers.
“Oh, no, pet, now we can’t have that. I want to see your beautiful face when you come.” I want him to see your face when you come.
She dropped her hand from her face and bit back a whimper as he resumed massaging her clit.
“That’s it, pet. Right here. Right now. Oh, that feels good doesn’t it?”
It was the most incredible experience, almost out-of-body – to maintain, to keep herself upright without crying out as he fingered her to orgasm. Feeling dazed, shaking inside, Greg’s fingers still in her, she looked up and her gaze eyes tangled with Curtis’s. His face was hard, a ter
se smile playing about his talented lips. He inclined his head slightly. Thursday. Be ready for me. I’m your Master.
“Did my pet like that?”
She looked at Greg. It had been incredible. “Yes, sir. Thank you.”
Master, meet Sir. Sir, meet Master.
And where did it all go from here?
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Dearest Reader,
First and foremost thank you for joining me on this erotic adventure! This series has been a long time in the making and I’m so excited to share it with you.
Beneath the trappings of politics, religion, and all the other stuff I've omitted, sexuality, sensuality and passion are the basics that drive our human behavior. At Hotel Eleven, guests discover and explore these BY THE HOUR.
I sincerely hope you love the adventure as much as I do! Stay on top of new releases with e-updates by signing up at http://eepurl.com/yb10P . Don’t forget to follow me on Twitter (JenLaBrecque) and check out my Facebook Jennifer LaBrecque Author Page.
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As always, happy reading!!!
Dedication
Moving this series from my head to print has truly been a collaborative effort. With so much encouragement and support, it’s been a phenomenal experience.
Many thanks to:
Melinda Wooten for passing along a tidbit many, many moons ago which sowed the seed in my imagination.
Stephanie Bond for her encouragement, sharing her knowledge and friendship.
Lucius Williams IV for creating my beautiful cover and providing not-so-gentle nudges to do this thing.
Stephany Glassing, Susan Goggins and Susan Kimoto Floyd for their brainstorming, editorial feedback and unfailing support and encouragement.
Stephany Glassing for her technical prowess.
BY THE HOUR, ATLANTA, Book 1 Page 13
