Wargasm (Payne Brothers Romance Book 3)

by Sosie Frost

  Those men were drawn to me. I hadn’t understood why until I stood before him.

  “The dress stays,” Anthony decided.

  So be it. I gave him a tentative smile. His eyes feasted over my body. I squirmed, but I liked the attention. No one had ever looked at me that way before. It was as exhilarating as it was dangerous, and I wished I could unbutton the top a bit.

  What would it be like to tease a man like this?

  It was worth a try.

  Anthony thought so too. “Are you aroused, pet?”

  Busted. I busied myself with my shoes and considered my options.

  Honest answer, ridiculous lie, or…

  Flippant response. “You said you’d know when I was aroused.”

  He caught me quick around the midsection and hauled me against his body. His hand clutched my thigh. God, he could practically grab my entire leg. His fingers spread so close to the part of me that hummed and begged and wetted at his touch.

  I couldn’t fight him. He was bigger than me, almost twice my weight and chiseled with solid muscle. Anthony could hold me against a wall or pin me on a bed within seconds.

  Under him. At his mercy.

  Part of me wanted him to try it.

  “I thought you knew better than to misbehave…” His breath tickled my ear. He squeezed me harder, just waiting to hear my breath catch. “Naughty little girl.”

  It wasn’t anger hardening his voice…and other places.

  It was excitement.

  And I loved it.

  “I don’t have time to teach you a proper lesson…” Anthony’s rasped words broke as he spun me, seized me, and pinned me for a kiss. “I’ll have to punish you at the party.”

  My back struck the door, slamming hard into the wood. I groaned, only to welcome more of his touch. My lips parted. God, was I that girl now? Grinding against a man she hardly knew, letting her tongue slid against his?

  Yes.

  Yes, I was.

  And nothing had ever felt so exhilarating.

  “We mustn’t be late, Morgan…” He pulled from the kiss to whisper a sultry threat. “Simone despises tardiness. I’d hate for her to be cross with my little pet.”

  “Why?”

  His chuckle growled from his throat. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

  He took my wrist—not my hand. Guiding me from the apartment and away into the night. It wasn’t a courteous gesture of a gentleman. His grip held me tight.

  A man leading an errant woman to the car. And even that buzzed my core with an unknowing warmth.

  I slid into the Mercedes, grateful for the air conditioning to soothe this smothering heat. I’d only been in his shadow for five minutes, and already I was complimented, demeaned, wanted, and punished. Now I looked forward to the party. At least there I could dive into a pool to wash away the slickness betraying my thighs.

  And Anthony knew.

  He rested his hand on my knee during the ride, doodling corkscrews and dots over my skin. We stopped at a light, and his fingers crept upwards. Slowly, pulling the hem of my dress up, up, up, until a smooth thigh exposed to him.

  The faintest hint of my bathing suit peeked between my crossed legs. His fingers followed, palming my entire hip as though it were nothing, as though he weren’t just millimeters from that secret craving. He drummed his fingers. Pressed hard. Tickled.

  Could he feel my heat? My mind begged for the light to turn green. My body ached for his touch.

  The light changed. My luck was either spectacular or the worst ever.

  He released his hold on me, and I ran ragged, like someone switched my coffee to decaf then cracked me upside the head with the empty pot.

  This teasing would ruin me.

  And then I’d beg for more.

  We arrived at a high-rise hotel, and Anthony tossed his keys to the valet. I stayed quiet, wondering why Simone had planned her fancy poolside party inside a hotel. The clerk directed to a secondary elevator behind the desk. Gold plated. Important looking, with marble floors, a mirrored ceiling, and enough glamour I was too intimidated to even push the button.

  Rooftop.

  Anthony would have permitted me to speak, but I wasn’t brave enough to try. I wrapped myself over his arm as the doors opened.

  This was a party beyond my imagination.

  Beyond anything Once Upon A Time. Far from my world.

  But Anthony fit inside the glamour.

  Simone’s private festivities centered around a massive, rectangular pool. The under-lit water glowed electric blue, illuminating the rooftop with neon light. A dozen formal cabanas were arranged near the water, housing fancy chaises and tables for the men and women in attendance. Thousands of white LEDs strung along the cabanas, framing the party in twinkling fairy lights. Tuxedo’ed waiters delivered oysters, caviar, and shrimp to the guests.

  I bit my lip. Simone served enough seafood to warrant a submissive girl acting as a serving platter, but her guests appeared well-behaved and morally sound.

  This wasn’t a Duchess party.

  Then I heard it.

  An open G sung out over the pool. A violin tuning, crystal clear and clean. A second violin, cello, and viola joined the note.

  My eyes fluttered closed. A still moment passed before the quartet began the movement of an all-too-familiar composition.

  What was it with strings anymore? When I’d dragged my violin around in high school, my ass got slammed into lockers. Now violins turned trendy?

  I snuck a peek towards the stage and wished I drowned in the pool.

  All those months avoiding people from college, and four members of a familiar string orchestra played behind a chocolate fountain and rows of sliced fruit and candies.

  My stomach bottomed out like it leapt off the roof, crashing through my every repressed memory instead of the cement below. I doubted they saw me.

  But it didn’t matter. I recognized them. I knew how good they were.

  And there was no reason I couldn’t be up there too.

  Except I wasn’t.

  And nothing would change that.

  Music had once enthralled me. Now I twisted, desperate to ignore it. Anthony didn’t notice. He guided me to the bar and offered a drink. His gin concoction tasted like getting whipped in the face by a Christmas tree, so I accepted a flute of champagne.

  If I wasn’t careful, I’d learn to like it.

  “Do you know anyone?” I asked. Anthony didn’t answer, and I remembered my manners. “Sir?”

  “A few people.” He nodded towards a cabana. “Simone is talking with Senator Robertson.”

  Senator?

  I twisted around to look. The best party I’d ever attended managed to get one of the English professors to stop by for a beer. Simone’s party drew politicians?

  I understood why. We had only been here for a minute, and already thousands of dollars’ worth of food and alcohol had passed under my nose.

  This wasn’t my normal scene. Anthony and Simone and everyone at this party was so out of my league it was like I’d brought my whiffle bat to an MLB game. They were rich enough to throw these types of parties, powerful enough to court senators as guests, and untouchable enough to operate to an exclusive club that catered to their deviant desires.

  I downed my champagne in two gulps. Anthony offered me another. Not like he needed to get me drunk. I was already edgy. Tipsy on him without the aid of alcohol.

  “Good evening, Master Anthony.” A brunette in a floor length evening gown laid a hand over Anthony’s shoulder. I recognized her friend—Genevieve, one of the sushi girls.

  “Good evening, Mariah,” he said. “Genn.”

  Mariah and Genn lingered only long enough to exchange a whisper that made Mariah gasp and glance over me once more.

  I didn’t blame them. I wanted to giggle around Anthony too. Laugh and sigh and touch myself and do all manner of things I never once thought about before.

  I squeezed Anthony’s arm. “I remember them. G
enn is Reed Bennett’s…uh, his pet, right?”

  The playfulness eroded from Anthony. His voice darkened. “Duchess is a very…political place. Reed Bennett’s admittance was not my choice. He is Simone’s mistake. You will not approach him.”

  Strange. He seemed so charming at dinner. “Why not?”

  “Because you can’t trust a Bennett. They’re villains, every last one. Reed’s no exception.”

  “How do you know—”

  “My firm represents his sister-in-law, Sarah Atwood. I act as legal counsel for her family’s company. Last year, Bennett Enterprises attempted a takeover of Atwood Industries that redefined the term hostile.” Anthony still seethed, the memory darkening his voice. “You will not associate with Reed Bennett, not now, not ever. He’s dangerous. Do I make myself clear?”

  I nodded. “Yes.”

  “Yes, what?”

  “Sir.” I quickly changed the subject. “What about Mariah?”

  The tension eased from his body. “Mariah belongs to Nate, a good man.”

  Belongs. I shivered. How could a girl find herself belonging to Anthony?

  “Do you have a lot of friends from Duchess, sir?”

  “Most of my associates originate from Duchess. We’re...close.” It was his own private joke, but I knew why the thought made him smile. “We share similar tastes.”

  The understatement of the century. The others might have been similar, but Anthony was one-of-a-kind. I hadn’t met a man like him before. Everything about him radiated power. His size. Strength. That confidence. All of it attracted me. Even his age threatened to undo me. He was eleven years older than me. Established. I had no idea a business card was the female equivalent of Viagra.

  He was everything I wasn’t, and I needed him more than anything.

  Anthony unbuttoned his suit jacket. “Are you hot?”

  “Oh, God yes.”

  He smirked. Of course he had been looking at the pool. I groaned, but he set my empty champagne flute on the bar and led me through the party.

  A sea of formally dressed guests and friends.

  The pool offered me a chance to slip out of the stupid cotton dress, but was a bathing suit any better? I snuck a peek at the women already in the pool.

  G-strings.

  Of course.

  Anthony didn’t mind my outfit, but he had practically picked it out. In fact, he claimed one of the deck chairs beside the pool just to sit and admire me.

  I moved to sit next to him.

  He held up a finger. Wait. Wagged it. No.

  Then he pointed for me to move in front of him.

  I stood, shifting my weight from foot to foot as he simply watched me.

  What did he want from me? My stomach twisted. He sipped his gin and tonic, casually, brazenly admiring me without a single word.

  The click of heels echoed behind me. Two women whispered in amused tones as they passed us. Did they see the way Anthony studied every curve of my body? How his imagination tore through the dress and swim suit beneath?

  The silence would kill me. I crossed my arms.

  “No,” he said.

  Sharp. Like a slap across the cheek.

  I dropped my arms to my sides.

  What was he doing? People could see!

  See what though?

  Anyone glancing over the poolside would assume I was talking to my date while he relaxed in a chair.

  They wouldn’t know how degrading he’d made this moment.

  We weren’t having a conversation. In fact, if I spoke, it’d be worse than crossing my arms and hiding my body from his view.

  Anthony would scold me. I didn’t want that. The no was enough to tear my insides apart.

  This damned dress. He did it on purpose. The outfit singled me out. An innocent girl led astray into the world she didn’t understand.

  And yet, standing in silence was the single most submissive thing that he’d ordered of me.

  Would kneeling before him be any more humiliating?

  Any more challenging?

  We’d only been at the party for ten minutes. It couldn’t get any worse.

  “Take off your dress,” he said.

  Yes. Yes, it could.

  I nearly stumbled backwards into the pool. Anthony’s gaze penetrated me, awaiting my response. He twisted the knife, and my body responded. Tremors of terror and lust battled in my tummy, but I didn’t have time to declare the victor.

  “Don’t you want to swim, pet?” he asked.

  “Yes, sir, but—”

  “Then take off your dress.”

  No way. There was no way.

  I needed a bathroom. A private cabana. A smoke screen.

  I couldn’t just…take off my dress in front of the entire party—in front of him.

  Everyone would know. Everyone would see Anthony watching me.

  And they’d realize he enjoyed making me strip for them.

  Was sex always this complicated? I had no idea passion could be such a chess game. Each piece, each move specifically calculated to keep me panicked. Vulnerable. At his mercy.

  “Morgan.” His voice sent my heart racing. “Don’t make me repeat myself. It’s disrespectful.”

  Asking twice for me to strip was disrespectful? Somewhere during the party his priorities twisted up. What about what I wanted?

  The heat surged in my center and turned my insides molten. What I wanted didn’t matter. I was supposed to submit to his desires.

  Would he even give an order a third time?

  This was crazy. It was just a dress. This was a pool party. I wore the bathing suit under my dress, specifically for this convenience.

  But Anthony made this different.

  Anthony made me feel different.

  Wasn’t that what I wanted?

  I unfastened the dress’s top button just as a woman wearing little more than a thong sauntered past. She was curvy and blonde, mostly legs, and all breasts. She strutted through the party in four inch stilettos with all the practice of a run-way model. All eyes followed her march across the pool.

  Everyone stared.

  Except for Anthony.

  His gaze fixed on me.

  I kinda liked it.

  My fingers trembled as they undid the second button. Nothing too degrading about that. I could have left it undone and come to the party, no questions asked.

  The third button was lower. Undoing that would expose actual skin. My suit squished my breasts into the top, but, even then, I offered him no more than a palmful. Maybe everyone would focus their attention on G-String Barbie instead of Skipper.

  Still, my breasts trembled every time I exhaled. And that he’d see.

  The fourth button came last. It rested near my lower belly. My heart pounded, and I tripped over the button twice before undoing it.

  Moment of truth.

  All that held my modesty together was a single belt.

  Life Goal Number Six: Offering this much to him.

  I tugged. The knot undid with agonizing quickness. My tummy fluttered. With a single movement, I pulled the dress from my shoulders, and I revealed myself to the world.

  …In a completely modest, pink polka-dotted one piece.

  Nothing happened.

  I peeked a glance to either side.

  Conversations didn’t cease. No one dropped their glass or fainted.

  No one cared?

  That didn’t seem possible. I sweated, trembled, and wavered so close to either fainting or orgasm Anthony would need only a single word to teeter me over either edge.

  Well hell. There was a surge of confidence. I hadn’t felt that in months.

  I smiled, meeting his stare.

  Big mistake.

  The man hungering for me was not the same Anthony. Someone darker, someone decidedly more dangerous—more demanding—sat in his place.

  He assessed my body with a tilt of his head and dire smirk.

  This was a man appraising a woman to fuck.

  Sav
oring her curves. Admiring her body. Desiring the heat within. And I’d give it to him. Everything. I’d offer him my virginity. My control. My mind.

  I understood him them—the raw pride fostered in aggression and dominance.

  He’d ordered. I’d obeyed. And every tremble, every breath I took through parted lips, every twist of my thighs, attempted to satisfy the devilish need pulsing within me.

  This was more than I’d ever imagined it could be.

  And Anthony hadn’t even touched me.

  His drink clinked onto the glass table. He stood, a slow prowl. I nearly stepped back, just to give myself a gasp of space between my trembles and his authority.

  But just his presence burned. Moving would be a very bad idea.

  His jacket fell away first. He tossed it over the chair. Then he unbuttoned his cuffs. Slow. Deliberate. Never taking his eyes from me. His thick forearms stretched the black dress shirt. Since when did I think forearms were sexy?

  Then his buttons. The regal one at this throat—unfastened. The casual second button at his collar—gone. His hardened shoulders excited me almost as much as the third and fourth buttons. They revealed his chest.

  And his muscles.

  So many muscles.

  Pure sensuality defined his pecs and abs with shadows and ridges of strength. He dropped the shirt behind him. Turned to face me.

  And I was lost.

  My eye level barely reached his shoulders—very broad, ridiculously imposing shoulders. I had to look up to meet his gaze. I was small—a fun-sized bite of chocolate—but standing in his shadow, exposed, signified far more than any pet or sir ever would.

  Anthony undid the button on his trousers.

  My world came undone with it.

  Stripping myself was bad enough. I couldn’t watch him.

  For the past three nights, I’d dreamt about what he hid in those pants. Now that the zipper was going down—

  Oh, God.

  What would the party think if they saw me staring?

  What would they think if they saw us taking off our clothes?

  This wasn’t innocent. It was naughty. Dirty.

  And I wetted so much it shamed me.

  Anthony dropped the pants, kicking them away. My heart beat through sheer adrenaline and uncertainty, but his arms wrapped me close.

  He tugged on my braid, forcing my head back. His curling smile dared me to squeal. “Have you ever given a strip tease?”