by C. M. Albert
She was sad when they were dressed and the quiet bell chimed, signaling their time was over. Lexie knew she’d never see either of them again, but she wanted to thank them. For the first time since her divorce, she’d finally felt in control again, and not just by causing someone else pain. She realized she’d been taking out her hurt on the wrong people.
She realized that being in control and having power came from being vulnerable just as sure as it came from being the one in command. A sense of freedom washed over Lexie as she walked from the White Room, leaving Asher and Emmeline behind.
She was confident now that she could both control and lose control, and she knew she was safe either way.
3
Asher
OF ALL THE fantasies Asher liked best, Mrs. Robinson topped his list. Older women were just more confident. They knew what drove him insane and they appreciated his stamina, often matching it pace for pace. Besides that, they were much raunchier and experienced than women his own age. Quite frankly, he had bored of them and rarely dated anyone in his peer group anymore. From time to time he did, just to keep up appearances. But the White Room had been his sanctuary and freedom these past four years since graduating college. When the demands of law school had pressed firmly on his chest, he appreciated the release this gave him. And the bonus? No one his age could afford it, so his secret was safely confined within these walls. Yeah . . . he knew it was a dangerous path to walk, given his profession, but the temptation of the room was too much—especially after getting his first taste four years ago as a college graduation gift from his father.
Most dads bought their sons an expensive vacation or a sports car for graduating top of the class from an Ivy League school. Asher snorted. Not his dad. His dad passed on the family legacy—VIP access to the White Room. As a founding investor and part owner, Mr. Wells and all five of his sons had unlimited lifetime access to the White Room. Every day, if they wanted. Of course, no one could fuck that much. Not even Asher, and he was one of the randiest of the five Wells brothers.
The White Room had been his escape from the grind of law school, from the demands of an overbearing father, and from the day-to-day monotony of life after school. After this visit, he wasn’t sure how frequently he would be able to visit though, as his career—and his father—were pushing a move on him that Asher wasn’t sure he wanted. Oh, he knew he’d still fly back for visits. After all, it wasn’t every day a young man with a perpetual hard-on could live out any and all fantasies his mind could create. It would be difficult to find a woman to match his lust, stamina, and creativity—outside of the White Room, that was.
He sat in the white leather chair and slowly stroked the outline of his cock in a pair of pastel pink, flat-fronted linen trousers. Today he was dressed as if it were just another day at the Kentucky Derby, as he was fulfilling a fantasy for someone else. He loosened his baby blue tie that matched his eyes and stood to shrug off his dark navy sports jacket when the door opened.
A woman in a long, flowing coral sundress walked in confidently, her copper-colored hair swung over one shoulder in a long, loose, complicated braid. She wore a wide brim sun hat that matched, shielding her eyes from Asher. That was okay, because he couldn’t look away from the long, thin legs that parted the sundress as she walked, playing peekaboo with the treasures he imagined that lie beneath the folds of silk cloth.
She stood in front of him and grabbed onto his tie, still not lifting her head or showing him who was beneath the wide brim of the tan and coral sunhat. “You’re the perfect boy for a day at the races. You’ll do quite nicely. Do you have a horse in this race, young man?” She nearly purred as she slid her long, manicured coral nails up and down his tie suggestively.
“Yes, ma’am. I only breed and race stallions. Mine is a champion.”
“I bet it is.” She chuckled lightly, pulling Asher in closer by the tie. “You aren’t too young to race, are you? My men seem to be getting younger and younger every time—not that I’m complaining. The races always last longer with younger jockeys.”
Asher lifted her up in one swift movement and flung her partially over his back, walking her over to the long, white leather sofa. He set her down right in the middle, gently pulling her legs forward so she slid down against the low back, her head resting perfectly on its ridge. That’s when he noticed her dark black Jackie O sunglasses that completely covered her eyes. “Take them off so I can see you,” Asher commanded, reaching out his hand. She shook her head no, sending ripples of frustration through his body. He liked looking into the eyes of the women he fucked. But if she needed anonymity, she would have it.
For now.
“Fine, have it your way,” he said. “But make no mistake, I’ll not go easy on you just because you hide. I’ll fuck you so hard those sunglasses won’t stand a chance of staying on that gorgeous face of yours. Besides, they’re just going to get in the way when you wrap those beautiful coral lips around me.”
Asher burned hot when her face flushed pink. Her hands flitted to the long double strand of pearls around her neck. Asher couldn’t wait to see her in nothing but those beads. He took a deep breath and focused on the woman’s chest. She was playing a big game, but Asher could tell by the rapid pulse of her breathing that, despite her age, she was a novice to the White Room and he needed to pace himself.
Asher dropped to his knees in front of her and gently slid her legs apart, slow and deliberate. He pushed handfuls of silk up her legs and around her waist on the cold white couch. Goose bumps raced up her legs when he placed his warm hands on either side of her outer thighs and inched them up slowly, patiently. He watched as her breathing hitched and noticed there was something about the familiar shape of her mouth as she parted it, her hands still playing with the cool, white pearls around her throat.
“What’s your name?” Asher asked, not that it mattered. Everyone used fake names in here. Everyone except him. It was part of the thrill—a big fuck you to the man.
“You can call me Wendy,” she said.
“Wendy, huh? You like lost boys, then?” Asher teased, sliding his hands between her thighs and parting them, delighted at the exposed red curls his fingers brushed against. “You won’t feel lonely with me, Wendy. I’ll be your Neverland.”
She gasped when his fingers found her sensitive nub, sliding slowly up and down the front of her folds, gently working them apart. Asher leaned forward and was just inches from Wendy’s mouth. He cupped her face with his left hand, while his right hand delicately traced the outside of her sex, trailing up and down her inner thigh, and back to center. He loved the way she squirmed beneath his touch. He could tell she was dying to press into his hand and invite his fingers inside of her. But he was going to take this slow. Even though she was older—the Mrs. Robinson he’d been hoping for—it seemed as if he was going to be setting the pace, not the other way around.
“So . . . Wendy. What brought you to the races today? A little escape from reality?” he asked, gently pushing the folds of her outer lips apart with his fingers, while his mouth moved closer to hers.
Those damn glasses were already getting in the way, and he wanted to taste those plump, coral lips. Wanted to see how sweet she really was beneath the pearls and three-hundred-dollar designer sunglasses.
“One. Last. Time,” he snarled, sliding his finger deep inside her as he ran his tongue slowly along her bottom lip. She jumped beneath his touch, her body shuddering with anticipation. “Take the glasses off.”
A little moan escaped her lips as they parted, and she lifted ever so slightly for his mouth. He pulled back, using the hand that he’d held her face with to slide his thumb toward her waiting mouth. “Are you sure you’re ready for the pace I’ll be setting in today’s race?” he asked, sliding his thumb slowly inside the corner of her mouth.
She sucked on his finger, pressing her chest toward him. She was small beneath the sundress, so small she didn’t need a bra. Despite having about twenty years on him, her breast
s were firm, high, and round. Her mouth told him she wasn’t as innocent as she was pretending to be, so why was she hiding?
He pulled his thumb from her mouth and removed his finger from within her sweet, wet folds beneath her skirt. He reached his hands up slowly toward her sunglasses and whispered, “I’m going to remove these now, Wendy, so I can see you when I take you. I need you to let go of your outside life and trust me. Can you do that?”
This time she nodded. She reached her hands up and covered Asher’s fingers over the arms of the sunglasses. “You will recognize me,” she whispered. “Please don’t leave when you do.”
Together they slid the sunglasses from her face. She did look familiar, but Asher couldn’t place her right away. In his social circle, it wasn’t uncommon to be surrounded by beautiful older women—they seemed to flock around his father. “You don’t recognize me, do you?” she asked as she let out a shaky breath. “That’s good actually.”
Asher watched the way her lips formed their words, saw the delicate splash of freckles against her chest. He ran his eyes up her chin and to the small mole on the upper part of her lip, toward the corner. He’d seen that before . . . he just couldn’t place it. Then his eyes met hers, recognition slamming into his gut. She smiled shyly, knowing he’d placed her.
“Vironica Mason,” he said slowly. His gaze never left hers, taking in the vibrancy of her kelly green eyes rimmed with laugh lines that crinkled when she allowed herself to smile. He wanted to see more of those lines. Her eyes lit up when she smiled. Her lips were full and her mouth was wide, something he’d never paid much attention to until now.
“This doesn’t have to be awkward,” Asher said, running his hands along her thighs again. “I’m no longer Katie’s high school friend. I’ve been to college, graduated top of my class. Went to law school, and am a practicing lawyer now. I may be younger in age, but I promise I make up for it in experience. This isn’t my first rodeo, Mrs. Mason. I come here to please, and I promise you I will.”
Her eyes moved toward his mouth, focusing on his lips. “My husband died, you know. I’ve only been here a few times. Your father suggested it, in fact. He was a good friend of Tommy’s, though Tommy never came here, of course,” she clarified.
“It doesn’t matter. That’s the whole point, isn’t it? Today you’re just Wendy. You don’t have to be anyone else, anywhere else. It’s just you, me, and the Kentucky Derby,” Asher said, his mouth lifting into a seductive smile he knew worked. “Care for a ride?”
She nodded, this time finding her voice. “But first, I’d like you to keep doing what you were before . . . with your fingers.”
“Lie back then, darling,” he growled, pushing her against the low back of the sofa. Her head relaxed back as soon as he slid his finger back inside her. She let out a slow moan, this time arching her hips forward to meet his hand. She’d been nervous because she’d recognized him from their social circle. But now that she was free to just be herself, Asher had a feeling her inner Mrs. Robinson would come out to play—and he couldn’t wait.
He dropped his head and kissed the small hollow part of her clavicle. She gasped as he ran his warm tongue over her pebbled flesh. His finger continued to slide in and out, her slick juices making each motion a little easier. Asher trailed his kisses down her chest, easily sliding the thin straps of the sundress over her petite shoulders. They pooled down her arms and her small breasts were free for him.
He dipped his head and took one of her dark pink areolas in his mouth. They were big, considering the size of her small tits, and the tight, large nub of her nipple was like a small pacifier in his mouth. He sucked greedily, pulling in a large section of her breast too. His hand found its way down her small waist and to her pooled dress that was still hitched up around her waist on the sofa.
“Stand for me, Wendy,” he commanded. Her sundress dropped to the ground and Asher took in the shape and delicate curves of her body as she stood before him, completely bare except for her long double strand of pearls. “My God, you are beautiful.”
Vironica stepped out of her sundress and kicked it gently to the side. She ran her hands down her chest, over her pert breasts, and to her stomach. It was slightly curved from the birth of her daughter, but she was trim, fit for her age. Her legs were long, and made to look longer in her high-heeled wedge sandals with complicated straps running up her taut calf muscles.
“Dear God, please leave those on,” Asher said, pulling her close. “Those, the pearls, and that fucking sexy braid are going to give way to many fantasies long after today,” he growled.
Her lips curved into a knowing smile. “A woman has to have a secret weapon or two,” she murmured. “But one of us is overdressed,” she said, wetting her mouth with her soft pink tongue as it slid over her full lips.
She tugged at Asher’s baby blue tie, loosening it and sliding it out from under the starched white collar of his button-up shirt. “Don’t you look adorable in your derby finest,” she said, eyeing his frame appreciatively. “You come from good stock.”
She smoothed her fingers up and down his biceps after she dropped his tie to the sofa. He leaned over to pick it up. “Not so fast, Wendy. I have something in mind for this.”
She rubbed her naked body against him and shivered. “Tell me what you want to do with it,” she whispered before finding his mouth. She bit playfully at his lower lip, her hands trailing up the hard muscles that lay beneath his crisp white dress shirt.
He grabbed both of her wrists and held them in one of his large hands. “First,” he said slowly, wrapping the tie around her wrists and securing them, “I am going to tie this so your hands are bound.” He yanked the tie to tighten the knot he’d formed. Her wrists weren’t going anywhere. “Then, I’m going to pick you up, bring you to the bed, and have my dirty way with you. Do you understand me, Mrs. Mason?”
She nodded, her body already panting with desire. He lifted her body easily over his shoulder again, carrying her to the bed. Her tied hands were placed above her head as he set her down on the plush white duvet, turning her over onto her stomach. He opened the bedside drawer and pulled out another tie that he’d requested be in there. Asher used it to tie her secured hands to the discreetly hidden clasps buried within the white tufts of the headboard.
She moaned, lifting her small, firm ass in the air as she writhed on the mattress, waiting. He stood beside the bed so she could watch him slowly unbutton his shirt, one hole at a time. He yanked the tails of his dress shirt from his pale pink pants and slowly shrugged it to the floor. Her eyes soaked in every ridge of muscle along his torso. He had an eight-pack he worked hard to maintain, and he was proud of it. It helped him keep up his stamina for his vigorous workouts in the White Room, too.
“I want to lick your stomach,” she said honestly.
“You will,” he said. “But a real gentleman always puts his woman first. Don’t you agree?”
She chuckled. “A good southern boy certainly does,” she murmured. “And I know you were raised right.”
He grinned, unzipping his pants and stepping out of them. He slowly lowered his silk boxers, letting Vironica take in the whole of him. He knew he was long, and she was a small woman. Her eyes grew big and greedy, and she bucked against her restraints. “Don’t make me wait, jockey. I love foreplay, but I came for the that,” she said bluntly.
He laughed, holding himself in his hand and stroking his length. “What—this? You came to the races today to ride my stallion?” he teased.
She nearly panted as she looked at him with longing. “Yes,” she breathed out. “It’s been a long time since my last visit to the White Room, and it wasn’t as . . . fulfilling as I’d hoped. I have no doubt your fine stallion will sweep the entire race and wind up in the Winner’s Circle,” she said, biting her lower lip in desire.
“I guarantee you it will,” Asher said, chuckling. He pulled another item from the bedside table and concealed it as he climbed onto the bed behind her, spreading h
er legs apart with his hands. He used the long white feather to slowly trace a path down her back and over the soft mounds of her behind. Her legs flexed with desire at the delicate tickling along the sensitive flesh of her backside.
Asher traced the tip of the feather along the slope of her inner thigh, leaning over and running his warm tongue over her pebbled flesh. He jockeyed between tongue and feather, teasing her, but not giving her the release she needed. He wanted her wet and ready when he pushed deep inside of her. He slowly tickled the feather over the outside of her soft, silky folds of skin between her legs, running it right up the center. She gasped, her body writhing under the restraints of the ties. She spread her legs and arched up, silently pleading with him to take her.
His mouth crashed down, hard and demanding, on her slick, wet lips. He used his hands to steady her hips as he buried his face into her from behind. She screamed as ripples of pleasure raced up her body, his tongue lashing out and plunging deep within her core. He took his time there, even knowing she was more than ready for his cock. He slowly, achingly slid two fingers partway in between her lips, rubbing her clit with his thumb. She lifted her backside in the air, trying to push her hips against him for his fingers to ride deeper.
He breathed warm against the soft flesh of her ass, asking quietly, “Is this what you want?” He pushed his fingers all the way in, arching them against her G-spot and moving them back and forth with precision before pulling them out slowly, letting her feel their absence.
“Yes!” she cried. “Oh God, yes! I want more of that . . . please.”
He drove his fingers back inside her, using his other hand to cup and press her mons. She ground into him, squirming under his touch. Her moan was long and slow, more like a mewl, as her hips danced in a seductive circular motion and she came against his hand. He leaned over and licked straight up her wet opening.
“Mmm,” he sighed. “You’re more than ready for me, Wendy. Do you want me to take you like this, and ride you from behind? Or will you let me turn you over so I can look into your eyes while I fuck you?”
