INVITATION TO PASSION
OPEN INVITATION, BOOK 3
JASMINE HAYNES
Copyright 2012 Jasmine Haynes
Cover Design by Rae Monet Inc
This is copyrighted material. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author. This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues in this book are of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.
Author Note: this book contains explicit material
Previously published in 2006 as part of the Open Invitation anthology
Summary
Here’s your invitation to The Sex Club, elegant, classy, sexy, every woman’s fantasy, every man’s desire...
Fortysomething Stacy Parrish surrounds herself with virile young men; she adores their stamina and enjoys tutoring them in the erotic arts. And they help her forget the next birthday. The last thing she wants is a monogamous relationship. But when Judson McCord, owner of The Sex Club, issues a sexual challenge, Stacy can’t resist taking him up on it. In a battle of wills, the stakes are upped each time they’re together, the passion and pleasure between them increasing tenfold. With desire and a passion she can’t resist, Jud determines to show her how truly beautiful, amazing and ageless she is. But can he provide the ultimate pleasure that will make Stacy exclusively his? Or will her quest for ever greater sexual thrills cost Stacy the love of the man standing right in front of her?
Dedication
To Linda Simi, for always listening, and actually hearing, too.
Acknowledgements
Special thanks to Jenn Cummings, Terri Schaefer, Rose Lerma, Lucienne Diver, and Christine Zika.
Chapter One
A lot of things had changed in the year since Virginia’s wedding, but Stacy Parrish’s taste in lovers wasn’t one of them. She adored younger men, their taut muscles. They had so much more stamina than the older variety and came with ferocity. True, they were quick to jump to the main course, but they were also good at taking hints. Between them, these two lavished her body with attention. What better way to celebrate her upcoming forty-sixth birthday? The husky blond sucked her nipple, testing the tightness with a little bite. She cooed her appreciation. The dark-haired one worked his tongue up her legs, swiping the special pleasure spot behind her knee.
“You boys are doing such a good job,” she murmured. Encouragement always garnered results. She even imagined that their future lovers would thank her for tutoring them in the art of pleasing a woman.
“Thank you, Serena.” That was the name she’d chosen for her visits to The Sex Club. It was best to keep her real life separate from her sojourns to The Sex Club. And just as she used a false name, the boys had dubbed themselves Erik (the Viking blond) and Caesar (the dark satyr).
Caesar nibbled his way up her thigh, pushing her legs apart, his fingers questing. She arched, opening her pussy to the lips within inches of bringing her gratification, and pushed her breast against Erik’s teeth, wrenching a throaty growl from him.
At forty-six her maidenly inhibitions were long gone, and her body was a feast for the two luscious twenty-five-year-olds.
“Your tongue would feel so good on me right now.” She didn’t demand, it wasn’t polite. As soon as Caesar’s tongue found her clitoris, she oohed and aahed her approval. Maybe it was time for her to do a little multitasking. Reaching down, she took Erik’s impressive cock in her hand. Drops of come slid along her palm just as a thick finger plunged deep inside her.
Improvising. Very good. As much as she enjoyed the youthful companions she chose, they were a relatively uninspired lot. She inevitably directed the action. One of these days, she was hoping for someone to surprise her with his ingenuity.
For now, she’d enjoy what she had. “Use your fingers, too.” It was good to let them know that fingers and tongues together were as enjoyable as a thick cock. Caesar’s blunt fingers filled her, while his tongue played her like an instrument.
She moaned, writhed, and squeezed the hard cock. Erik groaned and pumped in her fist, his mouth remaining locked to her breast. Sensation jolted from her nipple to her pussy.
Stacy opened her eyes to gaze at the tableau in the mirror above the bed. Her red hair fanned the satin pillow, the burgundy comforter in deep contrast to the tanned bodies draping her torso and thighs. One dark head wedged between her legs, the light one moving from one breast to the other. Her slightly parted lips glistened, her lipstick matching the bedspread’s color. She pushed on Erik’s shoulder, dislodging him just enough to see her fingers wrapped tightly around his mammoth cock, her manicured nails looking dangerous against his aroused flesh. The decadent scene shot her higher toward bliss, her body dripping with desire. Her first orgasm of the night rippled through her. It was good. But the next one could be so much better.
Still, she murmured her approval. “Have I told you yet how magnificent you are?”
“Yes, Serena,” they said in unison.
Rolling, she came to her hands and knees, another mirror along the wall revealing the lithe length of her body. She held up a condom like a treat. “Anyone interested?”
Her obedient lovers moved quickly. Without even fighting about it, Erik positioned himself in front of her, holding his cock out like a reward. Caesar rose to his knees behind her, rolled on the condom, then spread her legs to tease her pussy with the head of his imposing member.
The mirror reflected the beauty of those two steel rods.
She licked her lips, then parted them, salivating over the sight of the tiny drop of come oozing from the slit of Erik’s cock as he worked himself for her pleasure. Caesar’s hands on her hips positioned her.
Then they both hit home, a delicious penis in her mouth, an equally delectable cock hitting high in her pussy with one thrust. Tilting her head slightly to better view the mirror, she watched the two perfect male tools sliding, in, out, in, out, a mastery of sexual choreography.
Perfect, boys, absolutely perfect. She’d tell them later.
Then she closed her eyes, giving herself up to the pleasure of total penetration. Salty pre-come coated her tongue. She took Erik in all the way, working the muscles of her throat in time with his groans. She rode Caesar’s cock, slamming back against his hard pelvis, her rhythm flawless.
The echo of masculine groans and her feminine moans filled the room. The aphrodisiac scent of sex, male sweat, and her own light seductive musk wafted around them. If she could bottle the fragrance, she’d make a million. If she could cage these superlative animals, she’d have heaven on earth.
She squeezed the ball sack dangling in front of her, feeling Erik’s approaching orgasm. He pumped harder, faster, without restraint. She drank from him, urging him closer.
Caesar slid a hand down her belly and parted the lips of her sex, gliding in all her moisture. Her clitoris throbbed, begged. She panted. Caesar didn’t need much tutoring at all. As he stroked her clit, his body stiffened, and his penis pulsed inside her, gathering steam for his impending explosion.
Then she had the most marvelous idea. She let the lovely instrument of pleasure drop from her lips and pried the hands from her hips. “I’ve just had a brainstorm.”
Erik groaned. “You’ve gotta be kidding.”
“No, boys, I’m not. This will be better.” So much better for all of them. “Let’s do a sandwich.”
; “You wanna eat at a time like this?”
Caesar shoved his partner’s arm. “Don’t be a fucking idiot. She means she wants to be in the middle.”
Lord. They were young. She had to give them a little leeway because of their age. “In front of the mirror, boys.”
They clambered from the bed, eager to please. Stacy enjoyed the power in getting them to stave off their own orgasm. In return, she’d give them something incredible.
The floor-to-ceiling mirror covered the center portion of the wall. She knew it was two-way, and she wondered if someone was watching tonight. No, she knew someone watched. A thrill quivered through her belly, weakening her limbs. God, she wanted to give the performance of her life. That’s what sex was for her, each and every act being the ultimate performance.
She gave her profile to the mirror, then smiled. “You in front.” She grabbed a condom, then took Erik by his cock and situated him facing her. She wiggled her butt for Caesar.
“Enter me at the last minute,” she told him, handing him a tube of lubricant, “at the perfect moment.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Her lovely dark warrior nestled up against her ass, his cock, already dressed with a condom and now the lube, riding the base of her spine.
“Fuck me,” she whispered, her gaze on the blue flames in her Viking’s eyes. His condom was donned with the dexterity of frequent deployment, then she felt herself lifted from behind and supported by Caesar’s rock hard chest as she wrapped her legs around her Norseman’s waist. He impaled her, holding her hips to pump like a madman. She raised her arms, looping them behind Caesar’s neck. Each pound inside her body rammed her against the cock sitting just above her ass. Powerful legs framed her bottom, steadying her to receive while at the same time rocking his flesh between their bodies. He pinched her nipples, hard, almost painfully, and sent a surge of heat and lightning shooting down to her clit. Supported by strong arms, she followed the lightning strike, circling her fingers over her clitoris and building her body’s tension even higher.
She started to pant and moan. Colors swirled behind her eyelids as her fingers multiplied all the sensations.
“Now,” she cried. Just as her orgasm rose to the peak, rushing to each and every separate nerve ending, her dark lover entered her from the rear. She screamed, the pleasure-pain of double penetration unbearable. Then Erik slammed home into her pussy, deep, high, hard, one last time, and filled the room with his roar. Lights burst behind her lids, and she came in a miasma of blinding flashes.
She opened her eyes to the mirror, those beautiful young bodies tangled about her. She didn’t even remember falling to the soft carpeting. Breathing deeply, she arched, relishing the delicious ache in her muscles. Then she collapsed back into the heap of bodies. Ah yes, they were spent, their limbs lax, their mouths open to drag in air.
Stroking her fingers through their luscious locks, she whispered, “You were both wonderful.”
She lay there in the lee of their bodies for long, sated minutes, until their respective breaths eased back to normal. And that was long enough. The best way to end a rendezvous was at its height, before the rapture of orgasm completely faded.
“You know, boys, I’d like a moment by myself to recover.”
As one, they rolled to their knees, glorious animals. Erik shook his shaggy mane. Caesar grabbed his cock to remove the used condom. They both disposed of the remains in the provided receptacles, then turned to the piles of shed clothing.
“Thanks, Serena.”
“It was great, Serena.”
She smiled at their good manners. “You’re both going to make fantastic lovers for some very happy women.” She hoped her small hints added to their future bliss.
Propping herself on her elbow, she watched in the mirror as lean yet well-muscled limbs disappeared into black slacks and white dress shirts, though the club didn’t have a dress code, and clothing ranged from casual to ball-gown fancy. People came here for a variety of reasons, to have a diversity of needs met. Neither of these two hunky specimens would leave feeling used by what she’d done with them. Quite the opposite, she was sure. They were equals in what they’d all received from the encounter.
This was the way she liked it. A swift end to a friendly assignation. Everybody went away happy, and no messy emotions to deal with later on. In her twenties, she’d desperately desired love. Yet what she’d gotten was more heartache than joy. She’d searched for Mr. Right, only to learn he didn’t exist, at least not for her. Thank God she’d discovered she didn’t need him anyway.
She’d found her true calling in life, talking with women, getting them to open up. What she offered was more than a manicure. It was hearing them, learning, and yes, God, helping them. She never judged, she listened. Many found what they needed through the simple act of sharing. Others needed a little extra help, and she did whatever she could, in any way necessary. She’d supported herself, but even more, she gave to those women. She’d made lasting friends. That was what was important to her.
The door snicked shut as her boys departed, and she turned to her reflection, arching her neck and stroking a hand down her throat. She was agile and strong from her daily workouts, the skin of her face smooth from her regimen of moisturizers. But it was a fact of life. She was forty-six, and she wouldn’t have this body or face forever. Which was why she made the most of what The Sex Club had to offer the two or three times a month she ventured here. She didn’t want to leave any wild oats unsown, and that left myriad possibilities, like the sandwich she’d just partaken of. It had been good, very good. The boys had certainly been surprised and appreciative.
But sitting before the mirror in a now empty room, the languidness of orgasm almost faded, she couldn’t help wondering what was around the corner for her. She could only hope there were other, more exciting things waiting. Wilder oats to sow.
Pulling her knees to her chest, she stretched her arms out before her, releasing the kinks in her back, then perused her reflection once more.
Oh yes, no matter her age, she still had a few surprises out there for some lucky young sex club attendees. And maybe, if she was lucky, one or two of them would have a surprise for her.
* * * * *
Serena was all delicious, hot woman. She loved performing. Judson McCord was equally entranced with watching her.
Some people came to his club for the titillation, never actually participating. Some needed much more. Jud subscribed to the belief that desires suppressed could become needs that burst out of control, causing great damage to others. So, he provided an exclusive, private resort to safely act out those needs, clean, no drugs, no fighting, no divulging of personal information, no stalking. He watched his facility like a hawk, and if a guest disobeyed the rules, they were out, for good.
Serena came to the club to watch and be watched. The last three times she’d ventured upstairs, Jud had been her voyeur. Once she’d been alone, once with a single partner, and then tonight.
She disposed of her cohorts in pleasure with a few gracious words. He revered her confidence, her belief in her own beauty and power. He admired the pure grace of her feminine lines as she lolled in front of the mirror. She was a woman who had come into her own, an Amazon, a true woman of the new millennium. And he wanted her. Badly. Not merely Serena, the fantasy on the other side of a mirror, but the real woman. Stacy Parrish.
She was aware he knew her real name. He’d learned it when she first started coming to his club almost upon its grand opening two years ago. At the time, though he found her attractive, he’d already decided he wouldn’t indulge with guests. One didn’t abuse the client-proprietor relationship, and when the need arose, he took his pleasures elsewhere.
But that didn’t mean Jud avoided Stacy’s company. Though she was often frankly admiring of him, she didn’t flirt. She talked to him without pretense, her open smile more captivating than the seductive mien with which she graced other men.
She had a habit of lingering at the club after
a tryst, observing, theorizing about what made people tick. Many times she shared her studies with him. The more she revealed about what she saw in others, the more he learned about her. She enjoyed life to the fullest, savoring great big bites. She was ballsy, smart, confident, droll, and perceptive, with a streak of caring and loyalty. If someone she cared about was in need, she dropped everything to help.
He considered himself lucky to be counted among her friends.
She had more facets than a diamond and shone brighter than a cache of jewels. He dreamed of burying his fingers in her hair, its red tones softened by streaks of blond, as it curled about her ears and nape. Her body was another treasure: long, firm legs and taut, voluptuous breasts, while her face was the equal of a Greek goddess. But she was so much more than her outer casing. Somewhere in the two years he’d enjoyed her company, his casual attraction had turned to desire. A few weeks ago, he’d treated himself to a little harmless voyeurism. And damn if his desire for her hadn’t turned to a bit of an obsession. Now he was considering breaking his own rule not to mix business with pleasure. Hell, after tonight, he wasn’t considering it. He’d already decided. He wanted her, and he was going have her.
Jud had experienced all manner of pleasures. In his younger, wilder days, there wasn’t anything he wouldn’t try as long as it held the slightest appeal. But a purely physical connection was like a drug. You got high, you came down, you walked away. He wasn’t going to walk away from Stacy Parrish after a few nights. And he sure as hell wasn’t going to share her. All that was left was to let her know that.
“Hope you enjoyed yourself, sweetheart,” he whispered. Tonight was her last fling with anyone other than him for a long time to come.
There was no better time to put his plan into effect than tonight, when she came downstairs for her usual tête-à-tête. In her quest to live life to its fullest, Stacy chose muscle-bound youngsters who would fawn over her, her high more about their adulation than about her own pleasure. Brief encounters were like skimming the cream off the top of the milk. You savored the sweetness, but you never got to relish the long, deep swallow. Your cup always needed to be refilled.
Invitation to Passion: Open Invitation, Book 3 Page 1
