Seduced

by Kate Allure

  He turned sidewise, glancing upward for the barest fraction of a second, and Tori got the distinct impression he’d done it for her.

  Almost against her will, she found herself leaning forward to get a better view. Her chest grew tight and her palms sweaty. Never in a million years would she have thought a threesome would interest her, but she was too honest to pretend she hadn’t become aroused. She squirmed restlessly on her seat.

  Fletcher’s cock stood boldly out from his body. He tugged the standing woman against him, grasping her buttocks and rubbing her crotch against his erection. He lowered his mouth to her upturned faced and kissed her, fisting a handful of her hair to lock her in place, and thrusting his tongue inside her mouth. Then he let go of her, and she slid down to kneel before him. His large erection waved in front of her face. She gazed up at him and parted her lips, smiling. Ever so slowly, she sucked his shaft deep into her mouth, not stopping until her face pressed into the nest of curls at his groin.

  Behind him, the other woman was still kneeling, caressing his calves and thighs. He turned his head and said something too low for Tori to hear, but the woman immediately rose up onto her knees. He moved his feet apart, arched his back, and shoved his ass into her face. The woman in front kept herself locked on his cock while the woman behind spread his ass cheeks and licked him, rimming his hole. His face tilted up, and the spotlight caught him—his expression twisting with raw, primal pleasure.

  Tori watched, almost disbelieving, as the two women pleasured him, like supplicants. Like slaves. One literally kissing his ass as the other polished his knob.

  He grabbed the head of the sucking servant, urging her faster. She worked harder to please him, bobbing in and out rapidly and thrusting her face all the way into his crotch.

  Tori gasped. Unbelievable! Were all women here supposed to serve as sex slaves?

  But no, that wasn’t it. Both women were clearly enjoying the experience, seeming proud of the way they made Fletcher shudder and groan.

  Diana had told her everyone followed the rules, even the owners. If the women wanted to leave, they were free to do so at any time. But even a novice like Tori could tell that these two wanted to be exactly where they were.

  Word must have spread among the members that the Pit was the happening spot tonight, because many more masked revelers raced down to join the fun, the raucous din growing louder as the pace sped up. Even the music seemed louder, faster, and more pounding as the orgy blossomed, becoming a wall-to-wall sweaty, naked bacchanal.

  Tori’s personal ménage a trois performance had moved onto the large, round bed. Fletcher grabbed one woman and kissed her deeply while his hand fondled the other’s sex. From the sound of her loud moans, his fingertips had found her clit. She snatched a condom from the bedside table and put it on him while he continued to nuzzle and suckle the other woman’s breasts. All three seemed delirious with lust.

  Tori took several quick breaths, trying to quell the dizzy, hot sensations flooding her. She didn’t wish to join them, not really, but the entire sybaritic scene aroused her. As if the ghost of that man’s touch trailed over her body, too. Her sex grew wet, and her pelvis clenched with need. The sounds, sights, and even smells of the place flooded her senses, immersing her in sensuality and affecting her like an aphrodisiac. Her entire being hummed with arousal.

  But she had no outlet for her lust. She no longer had a lover and didn’t want to bang a stranger.

  Below, Fletcher gave directions as he lay there on his back, and the two women hurried to comply. One scrambled over his head so he could bury his face in her wet snatch. The other straddled his pelvis but waited poised above his cock, as if needing permission.

  He nodded, so subtly Tori almost missed it, and then the blonde slid onto him. “Yes!” she cried.

  Or was that Tori’s own voice crying out? She wasn’t sure.

  Squirming, she forced her hands to remain calmly in her lap when she really wanted to run them across her body, slide them under her dress and between her legs. The tickle between her thighs had grown to a drumming ache. She wanted to fuck. No sweet lover this night, she wanted no-holds-barred, energetic, doggy-style banging.

  She jumped to her feet. Her hands gripping the railing, she stared hungrily at the hypnotic scene below. From corner to corner, every individual became part of something bigger, a commune of lovers, connected and interconnected. Sharing and giving and taking pleasure. Suddenly, she understood an orgy’s appeal, understood why the participants seemed to lose themselves in carnal madness. It called to her, as well. Screamed for her to join in. The orgy, like a living thing, wanted her participation, too.

  Could she actually join them?

  She desperately wanted to. She moved toward the stairs. Then stopped, unable to make such a leap—from mundane, lights-out sex with Rupert to…this?

  She remained rooted to her spot along the banister. Unable to join the fray. Incapable of walking away. She devoured everything with her eyes, wanting memories for later.

  The woman on top of Fletcher began to move, a rolling, leisurely undulation, while he continued to lick the other woman, his hands fondling them both. The threesome had begun a moaning and writhing dance of their own, like the mass of humanity surrounding them.

  “Faster!”

  It could have been Tori’s shouted command—so urgently did she want what they had—but this time she was sure the command had come from the man beneath the two women.

  Tori ran along the gallery to stand at the top of the short staircase, silently willing the trio to fuck faster. She wanted it hard, rough, the way she’d often dreamed of it. The female rider began to race in a grinding, pumping motion, as if her life depended on it. Fletcher seemed to momentarily forget his second lover, as he murmured encouragement, urging her to rush toward the big finish.

  Tori longed for it, too, her thighs pressed tight together. Longed to see the woman’s rapture, to live it vicariously. The frenzied crowd, intertwined and wild, screamed its pleasure. Yearning to feel what they all felt, she burned with the need. Finally, the blond woman came, crying out in pleasure as she rocked furiously, seeking every last glimmer of joy.

  Now the other moved to take her turn, and Tori coveted her spot.

  I want to join them!

  They would welcome her, she knew.

  More and more people joined the fray and were immediately subsumed into the undulating mass. But years of conservative conduct battled with her need for physical relief, for the brilliant ecstasy spread before her. The pull of the tribe was immense. Overwhelming.

  Ripping herself from the railing, she turned away. And fled.

  It didn’t matter that she yearned, nor that she would be welcomed. She simply wasn’t free enough to go down there. Wasn’t free enough to find fulfillment in this wondrous way.

  She needed to get out of here!

  But where was out?

  In the hallway, not caring where it took her, she ran.

  Twenty minutes passed in mindless wandering, and she found herself right back where she’d started.

  Lost. Alone.

  In a sex club, but frustratingly unsexed.

  “Damn you, Diana,” she muttered and took off down another dark hallway.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Slumped on a chaise lounge, double gin and tonic in hand, Ian scanned the available prospects, preparing for tonight’s quest. As always, there were lovely women everywhere, but he couldn’t get the beautiful woman he’d seen dancing in Drumbeat out of his mind. What had caused this over-the-top attraction? Clearly a newbie in her conservative dress, she shouldn’t have interested him at all.

  But his body had tightened instantly. An hour later, he remained semihard.

  He’d watched her nervously glancing his way and had wanted to close the distance between them, to pull her against his body and grind away to the pulsing rhythm. Resisting her for his usual reasons, he’d pushed away from the wall and left the newbie behind, choosing in
stead a stiff drink.

  He had no time tonight, or any night, to waste with a newbie who obviously wasn’t ready to engage in the wild, anonymous sex he craved.

  Tilting the glass, he let the alcohol burn down his throat. Too wired, too horny, and too restless, he needed to take the edge off before he pursued his one goal for the night—taking care of his body’s needs quickly and efficiently so come morning he could keep his mind focused on his career and helping people.

  That was the sole reason he’d taken such a risk by joining Club Exotica. He’d learned about the über secret club at the same time that he’d done some pro bono work for one of the owners, and, later, as thanks he’d been offered a membership at a greatly reduced rate.

  It had worked out brilliantly. Have a few drinks, some casual conversation, and enjoy copious nameless one-night stands with pretty girls or hot cougars. Women who were all there for the same reason as he—no strings attached, no complications. Just lots of satisfying sex.

  “Penny for your thoughts?” A sultry voice interrupted his musings.

  Lifting his head, he smiled at his oldest friend, who was also the member who’d sponsored and vouched for him, prying open the hallowed Club Exotica doors that first time to gain him entrance. “That old line, Emmy? Surely you can come up with a more ingenious opening.”

  “Ha. You can try to dissuade me, Big Knob, but I can always tell when your mind is a million miles away…or stuck between a woman’s thighs.”

  “Don’t call me that,” he snapped in mock anger. “While I haven’t decided on a pseudonym yet, I can bloody hell tell you it won’t be Big Knob.”

  “But it’s accurate.” She giggled, settling onto the neighboring lounge chair. “We may not have that kind of friendship, but it doesn’t mean I haven’t looked. Out of curiosity, of course.”

  He occasionally wondered why they didn’t have that kind of relationship. Emmy most definitely had “all the right junk in all the right places,” as that Meghan Trainor song went, but they’d known each other their entire lives, and he just didn’t feel anything beyond platonic love for her. He’d seen Emmy without her clothes here in the club and had looked long enough to satisfy his curiosity. It was the one and only time in his life when he’d seen a sexy naked woman and not risen to the occasion, as it were.

  Obviously, Emmy had watched him in action here, too. “When?” he asked.

  “The first night I brought you to the club as my guest. After I was done with my…plans…I looked for you. Wanted to make sure you weren’t overwhelmed.”

  He snorted. “Me?”

  Emmy laughed. “Ha. I found that out quick enough. There you were in the Pit with, I think, three women? Very impressive, managing to make each of them pop simultaneously.”

  He smirked, feeling pride in his skills.

  When he didn’t say anything, Emmy added, “I wasn’t the only one watching. Anna Devine was on the balcony, and I’d guess that display of prowess helped get your membership application approved, pronto. Now, again, a penny for your thoughts? And don’t try to misdirect again by putting down my choice of nickname, Big Knob.”

  “Emmy!” His tone held a warning note. “I may not want to fuck your delectable body, but I’d have no compunction against spanking it.”

  “Okay, already. You win. After all these years, I know you too well not to believe you mean it.”

  “And I’d enjoy it, too.”

  “Stop teasing or I might take you up on it.” Her tone was taunting, but she scooted backward out of his reach. “But please think of a name, already. I want to be able to call you something other than hey you. And tell me why you’re not at this moment between the thighs of tonight’s lucky cougar?”

  “I don’t just fuck older women,” he countered.

  Emmy raised a brow.

  “Not always.”

  She studied him for a moment as if trying to work something out. “I didn’t hesitate to sponsor you, and I don’t regret it, but I still don’t understand why you would even need this place. Wealthy, gorgeous, titled, and, most important of all, you’ve got a whopper of a knob.” She winked at him.

  “You’re no different…sans knob, of course.”

  “It’s different for me. Even in this day and age, women can’t enjoy having lots of anonymous sex without being called a slag. And don’t try to tell me otherwise. Nor can we easily experiment with different fetishes. Feminism hasn’t reached that far yet. In the club I have the freedom to be me. It even earns me respect here. This place… It’s special.”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “But. Again. Why do you need it?”

  He sighed, unsure how to put it into words. “You deserve an answer after helping me, but it’s going to come off sounding terrible, like I’m the one who’s a slag. It’s just that my career is important to me and—”

  “I know that.”

  He ignored the interruption. “Right now it’s vital that I give my career 110 percent. But I also have a strong sexual drive and—”

  “You don’t have to tell me that, either.” She smirked at him.

  Narrowing his eyes, he warned her a second time. “Do I need to take you downstairs? I’m beginning to think you need a caretaker with a strong hand, and I would enjoy releasing some pent-up frustration.”

  “Sorry!” She grinned irrepressibly, clearly not sorry at all.

  “As I was saying, I need to fuck frequently.”

  “Oh, you poor dear. That must be so hard on you.”

  This time he chuckled with her. “Cute. But it is. It distracts me at work, and you know the long hours I put in. I’ve tried maintaining girlfriends, but they always need too much of my time. This place is perfect for me, because I don’t need or want love.”

  “Bollocks. Everyone needs love.”

  “No, it’s not in me.” Seeing her disbelief and even some concern, he added, “Look. I’m not a wounded soul. My parents loved me, and I love them. I love my brother. Blimey, I even love you, like a sister. I just don’t need romantic love. Great fucking, now that I need.”

  And he needed it…with the luscious newbie.

  Suddenly, he knew why she’d seemed familiar. The woman’s body was as enticing and curvaceous as a certain sexy judge he knew. But this woman had thick, silky, blond hair tumbling about her shoulders, not confined in a stiff bun. His fingers had itched to play in those sexy curls. They itched even more to run his hands all over her lush curves, the impulse making his hands tingle.

  He slammed a mental door on the desire. I don’t do novices. Remember?

  Taking another slug of his drink, he enjoyed the hot burn down his throat. “I simply need an out for sexual release. Fast and neat. That’s all.”

  Emmy looked doubtful. “Okay, so who’s it going to be tonight? In this playground of the rich and beautiful, where sex can be had for the price of a drink or two.” She paused, gazing at him, a twinkle in her eye. “That’s why you like cougars. Admit it. I bet a gorgeous youngster like you doesn’t even need that tiny bit of romancing to get your knob popped. They probably buy you drinks or offer to play your bagpipes sight unseen.”

  She was teasing him, but it hit closer to the truth than she realized.

  A self-satisfied smile grew on his face. “The women here are incredible, and they aim to please.”

  He didn’t add the rest. That he found older women especially beautiful—particularly when they made love, their spirited desire to explore their sexuality was powerfully erotic.

  Girls were great, too, of course, but the combination of mature confidence and uninhibited passion really turned him on. Older women understood their needs and had the courage to ask for what they wanted. They knew how to please a man, and also how to receive pleasure. They lived entirely in the moment, making the experience more sensual, more joyful, and more gratifying than anything he’d experienced before. When they blossomed for him—under him—they dazzled.

  Emmy interrupted his thoughts. “I bet you’ll
be popped within the hour.”

  He glanced around the bar. Gorgeous scantily clad women were draped everywhere. Several were watching him but didn’t approach.

  “I’ll have to ditch you if I hope to meet anyone,” he told Emmy. “Or maybe not.”

  A practically naked woman, her huge bristols on full display, smiled at him from her nearby chaise. Threesomes were routine at the club. The woman started to rise, but he shook his head—he was not interested in a ménage tonight, and never with his friend Emmy.

  The woman’s lips formed a pout, but she sat back down.

  Emmy’s eyes narrowed on him. “You just rejected a willing woman. What’s going on?”

  He sipped his drink, not wanting to tell Emmy that he couldn’t get a particular woman out of his mind. His odd reaction to the newbie still bothered him. He firmly avoided new club members, not wanting to invest even the small amount of romancing they inevitably required.

  But, tonight, when the other guy had invited her to dance, he’d experienced an instant, gut-clenching reaction—no one invaded his territory. What was it about this particular newbie that made him to want to stake his claim on her? That turned him into a caveman? His fists had only relaxed after the newbie waved the interloper off.

  Shaking his head over his uncharacteristic behavior, he finished his drink in one big gulp.

  He was just extremely horny tonight, that was all.

  It wasn’t really about that particular woman.

  “Well?” asked Emmy.

  He’d clean forgot she was still sitting there. Damn.

  “It’s nothing. In thirty minutes, I’ll feel much better. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

  He made to rise, but she said, “No. Stay. I was just leaving to find my own fun.”

  “That’s okay.” He had way too much pent-up energy to sit still, and he had a mission now.