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She hadn 't had it this bad in a long time. She should have masturbated before she came to work tonight. Instead, she'd gotten involved in paperwork, gone to the gym for a lengthy workout, then had to hurry up and shower so she wouldn't be late. Now she was edgy and uncomfortable and in desperate need of release. Though the anticipation of what would happen tonight was nice.
“Spanking room?” she asked as they walked by yet another.
He grinned. “That could be fun.”
She glanced down at his hands and felt a tingle of anticipation at the thought of them wandering over her ass. They moved on down the hallway and she nodded at a couple women who worked for her. They sized up Mike, their eyes widening with distinct interest. Not that she could blame them. With his dark good looks and lean, well-toned body, he was a prime specimen. He walked in a barely leashed predatory manner that she found quite compelling since it wasn't affected at all, but natural. He offered a friendly acknowledgment to the women, but kept his attention focused on Grace. Nice.
“Same-sex rooms ahead,” she said.
“Fun to watch but I'm completely hetero.”
“What do you like, then?”
“Just about everything you'll suggest. That's why I'm here.” She had an idea he'd respond that way. “Been there, done that, in other words?”
He shrugged. “I haven't exactly been a monk in the past.”
“I'm sure I could find something here to tempt you.” “Only if your name is Eve and you're holding an apple in your hand.”
Now it was her turn to laugh. She stopped and turned to him. “I'm the challenge every man who comes to Wild Nights wants, Mike. But I'm not a prize.”
Now he did lean in, though just enough to tantalize her with his scent. “No, you're not. You're a treasure worth exploring. A prize is something to show off in front of everyone. I don't see you like that.”
“You don't.”
“No. A man should take his time with a woman like you. But not here.”
“No?”
He shook his head. “Someplace private, where we can get to know each other, explore each other. Without you being on display.” Okay, now she was really impressed. The typical man who pursued her wanted to show her off like a trophy, like they'd just won the lottery and she was the grand-prize fuck. They always suggested one of the showcase rooms, where they could exhibit their prowess in screwing the owner of Wild Nights. Total turnoff. Grace didn't mind a little exhibitionism, but on her terms, and she didn't want to be shown off like a prize deer during hunting season. Which made Mike different than most men.
“Come with me.” She held out her hand and led him down another hallway, through the door and to an elevator marked “Private.” They passed some staff members along the way. “David, I'm heading up to my suite. Please let the managers know where I can be reached in case of emergency.” David nodded. “Of course, Grace. Have a nice time.” She intended to. Alike had piqued her curiosity. Now she wanted some time to talk to see if her instincts about him were right. She punched the code and the elevator door opened. Mike stayed silent on the ride up to her penthouse. One of the advantages to living where she worked was that there was no commute. When she wanted some privacy all she had to do was take a short ride and she was home. “Nice place,” Mike said as they stepped inside her suite.
“Thank you.” She didn't need to live extravagantly, preferring to put her money back into the club and bank the rest of the profits for later on. She didn't intend to be in this business forever. But she loved the view of Las Vegas afforded by the floor-to-ceiling windows in her living room, and the privacy of living high above the city. Her decor was simple—beige and black. Nothing fussy. Standard furniture, comfortable couches and tables and chairs. She liked her living space livable—not pretentious.
“Would you like a drink?”
He stepped to the window. “Whatever you're having is fine.”
She poured two brandies and handed one to him. “I love this view. Frenetic pace, dazzling lights, absolute madness down there. But still, it relaxes me.” She took a sip of her drink, feeling it burn its way down and warm her.
“It's home to you. Anything that's home is relaxing.” She motioned him to the couch in front of the window, kicked off her shoes and sat, curling her legs under her. “Tell me what's home to you.” “Oklahoma. I'm a veterinarian. Own a practice with my best friend. We've been partners since our college days. I have a house in a small town and that's where I kick back and get away from it all.” “And you obviously love animals.” “Yeah, I do.” He took a long swallow of the brandy. She watched his throat move as he tilted his head back. “I have a couple dogs and I'd eventually like to own a horse ranch.” Grace stared out the window. “I've never been on a horse in my life. But I'd love to ride someday.”
“Come visit me sometime. I'll take you for a ride.” “I'll just bet you would.” She teased, imagining the kind of ride Mike would take her on. “But I'm serious about the horses. I've always loved animals but I never had any pets.”
“Why not?”
She shrugged. “My parents never allowed us to have any, and after I moved away from home my lifestyle wasn't conducive to keeping one.”
“That's too bad. I was brought up around animals. I grew up on a farm.” “Interesting.”
“Are you from Las Vegas?”
She laughed. “Oh, God no. I'm from Kentucky.”
He arched a brow. “No trace of an accent.”
“I left home at eighteen. That was a while ago. There's no part of the Kentucky girl left in me.”
He reached out and grabbed a tendril of hair from the side of her face, letting it slide through his fingers. “You know what they say. You can take a girl out of the country, but you can't take the country out of the girl.”
“Trust me. This girl has no country left in her. I left their morality and their holier-thanthou standards and prejudices on the doorstep the day I walked out. There's nothing of them left in me.” “Bitter?”
His voice was soft. No accusation. “Not at all. I just didn't want what they were selling.” “Which was?”
“Hypocrisy.”
Mike nodded. “Now, that I understand. Those who preach one thing and practice another.”
“Exactly.” She took another drink and sighed, wondering why she'd revealed so much about herself to a stranger. She never talked about her past with anyone. Some of her close friends at Wild Nights didn't know where she'd come from. “Your glass is empty. Let me refill it.” She reached for his glass, but he laid his hand over hers. “I'm fine right now, thanks.” He laid his glass on the side table, but didn't let go of her hand. His thumb drew lazy circles over her palm. The sensation was wild. Amazing for someone as jaded as her. It was just her hand. She usually needed much more stimulation to get her going. “I'm not promising you anything by this/' she said, needing him to understand.
His lips curled in a wicked, sexy half smile. “I just want to spend time with you, Grace. There are plenty of women I can fuck. I like you. I like talking to you. Just relax, okay?” “Sorry. I'm used to meeting men whose sole objective is to fuck the panties right off me. It's a defense mechanism to set the ground rules right away.”
“Consider them set. No promises. I won't ask you to bear my children or move to Oklahoma with me tomorrow.”
She snorted. Dear God, when was the last time she did that? “That was funny.” He was right. She needed to lighten up. “How long have you lived out here?” he asked, content to roll right back into talking.
“Ten years. I came out here right out of high school. Went to college and worked nights to support myself.”
“Damn hard life for a kid all alone.”
She shrugged. “I managed. I made friends and scored a couple really well-paying jobs. I knew exactly what I wanted.” “Pretty impressive for someone so young.” “It's important to have goals.”
“And what were your goals?”
“To start up Wild Nights.”
His brows lifted. “You knew even then?”
She nodded. “I grew up in a repressed family. Sexuality wasn't discussed. The town I lived in was littered with hypocrites who preached abstinence and morality and practiced adultery and indiscriminate sex. It was ludicrous.”
“And you were confused as hell, I imagine.”
She nodded. “Understatement. I had this raging libido and everyone telling me that what I felt inside was bad, evil. And it wasn't bad. I knew it wasn't. How could something that felt so good be wrong? What was so bad about expressing one's sexuality?” “Nothing.”
“I was determined to get the hell out of there before I ended up pregnant and married and trapped at eighteen. No way was I going the route of so many of my friends. They were brainwashed into believing that bullshit. I knew I was destined for something else. I felt stifled there and I couldn't wait until I was old enough to make a run for it. “So as soon as I graduated high school I packed up and left. I'd worked a part-time job in school and banked every spare cent I could. Enough for a bus ticket to Las Vegas and money to last a month. I was lucky—I landed a job and a place to live and worked my ass off in school and at work for several years, with my eye always on the prize.” “Wild Nights.”
She smiled. “Wild Nights.”
“So you've realized your dream, Grace. Are you content?” She started to answer with a yes, then realized no one had ever asked her that question before.
Was she content with her life? Could she honestly say she was happy? “Truthfully, Mike? I don't know.”

THREE

Mike was surprised at Grace 's honesty. And absolutely stunned by her. Everything about her. Her story, her beauty. Her tenacity and drive.
“You're an amazing woman, Grace. You've put your life on hold to realize your dream.” “My dream is my life. Or at least it has been for the past twelve years.”
“I did the same thing with my practice. Between school and setting up my business, there wasn't room for anything else for a long time.” j “But you've found time to play, haven't you?” she asked, shifting on the couch so she could draw nearer to him.
He knew what she was doing. She was trying to change the subject because she felt like she'd revealed too much. Fair enough. He owed her for her honesty.
“I've played plenty. Too much, I think.”
She stilled, then leaned back a little, frowning. “Too much?”
“I've played the game for so many years I think I've become desensitized to it all. So I find myself looking for the next big thrill, and finally coming to realize there isn't one.” She relaxed her shoulders. “Ah. Yes, I understand.”
“I've done it all, Grace. It's hard to get excited about it anymore. It's like I'm pushing the sexual envelope, looking for the next conquest before I've even finished the one I'm with.”
“And it's not fun anymore,” she replied, nodding. He laughed. “Well, sex is always fun. But lately it's been a little . . . unsatisfying.”
She crossed her arms. “I know the feeling.”
“Really?” He couldn't believe he was telling her this. Or that she of all people was a kindred spirit. Grace was like a shrink—easy to talk to. He didn't really spend a lot of time talking to women. When he was alone with a woman, talking typically wasn't something they did. Then again, she was a stranger. A beautiful, intelligent, eloquent stranger, and different from most of the women he knew. After tonight he'd never see her again, so why not? It wasn't like he had anyone else remotely close to open up to about things like sex. No way would his male friends understand how a man who got as much pussy as he did could possibly be dissatisfied with his sex life. “People always wonder about me,” she said. “Why I opened this club. How I must have suffered some sexual trauma that made me want to explore the wild side of sex, when the truth of the matter is, I always felt sex should be openly celebrated. I've always enjoyed it. There is no dark history in my life—no rape, no incest, no horrors in my past that caused me to want to investigate my deviant side. I just love sex. That's why I moved here and started this club.
“As I mentioned, I was dissatisfied with those who preached morality, that sex was something to be hidden as if it were bad. There's nothing bad about sex as long as it's consensual.
“But the problem is, when you engage in so much open and free sexuality, when you can have anything you want anytime you want it, you become desensitized to it. Then what does it take to be satisfied?” “Is that why you don't partake of the fun and games at Wild Nights?” he asked, curious whether it was choice or just part of the mystique. She shifted, stared out at the lights of Las Vegas again. “Partly. I have responsibilities at the club and if I spend all my time engaged, I can't cater to my clientele. But yes, I've also become a bit jaded. I used to play a lot more than I do now. Because I've done it all. It doesn't have the allure it once did.”
“When you've experienced everything, and more than once, there's no thrill.” She looked at him. “Yes. That's it exactly. I sometimes wonder if I'll ever find the one man who'll be able to touch me the way no man has been able to touch me before.” He smiled. “Oh, that guy.”
“What guy?”
“The perfect man. He doesn't exist.”
She returned his smile. “Nor does that perfect woman you're looking for.” “We're both alike, Grace. Looking for something or someone who can't be found.” “So what do we do about that?”
God she was beautiful. Her hair shined like blue-black magic in the fights from the strip. The silk of her skirt and top clung to her body like shrink-wrap, molding to her breasts and hips. He wanted a taste, a touch, to sink inside her and see if she held the magic key to what was missing in his life. He hadn't felt this comfortable with a woman in too long. Or maybe he just wanted to avoid what was going on downstairs. Maybe it didn't have the allure he thought it would. In that, he'd been honest with her.
What he really wanted to explore was sitting right next to him. Grace had fired his engines in a big way. Her intellect, her free spirit, her honesty and her beauty—all of them intrigued him more than any woman had in a long time.
“One night. Give me one night with you. No promises other than enjoying each other.” “We both know we're not going to find what we're looking for,” she said, her gaze betraying nothing of her emotions at the moment. “I know, but I like being with you. Isn't that enough?”
“Is it?”
“I've been honest with you, Grace. That's really all I can offer.” He watched her face as she absorbed his words, wondering if she'd toss him out and deny him, and herself, a chance for a night together. She knew him. Okay, that was wrong. She didn't know
him,
but he figured she knew hundreds of guys just like him. Men who'd had lots of women. She probably thought he was looking at her as just another conquest.
When he first came here tonight that's exactly what she'd been. Another challenge. But she'd rocked him back on his heels and gut punched everything he thought he wanted. She saw right through his bullshit. He needed a woman like that.
She stood. “Let's just take this slow, see how things go.”
He nodded, instinctively understanding that was important to her.
“However you want to set the ground rules.”
“I don't really like rules, per se . .. and I haven't said yes to anything yet.” Her voice had gone smoky and the atmosphere in the room changed in an instant. From polite conversation to something more elemental—something definitely darker, with more promise. “I think I want you to sit over there—in that chair.” She motioned with her head to the black leather chair directly across from her.
Mike moved, sat down and placed his arms on the chair, keeping his gaze riveted on Grace. She moved to the other side of the room and flipped a switch, filling the room with soft, sexy jazz music, then headed back toward him, all long limbs and polished refinement. Even in the way she walked, she hitched his pulse up a notch. Nothing hurried, nothing hesitant in her movements. She stopped a foot in front of him and parted her legs.
“Don't move. Don't get up and don't touch me unless I ask you to.”
“However you want it.” His cock twitched in anticipation of what was to come. His heart began to pump a fast beat and the room grew warmer. He didn't know what kind of game she was gearing up to play, but he was definitely all in.
“People rush into sex, as if fucking is the grand prize,” she started. “No one takes the time for mystery, for teasing or seduction. All the joy leading up to sex has gone by the wayside, and it's such a shame, because the buildup can be as intense as the act itself.” She sucked her bottom lip between her teeth and smoothed her hands up her arms, then across her neck and collarbone. Light, fingertip touches, avoiding her breasts. Slow and easy, like an exploration. Mike took a breath, waiting for her to fondle herself, to caress the hard points of her nipples peeking through the thin silk of her blouse.
He
knew she wanted to touch them.
He
wanted to touch them, could almost feel the tight buds between his fingers. Instead, she skimmed her hands down over her waist. “The fine art of taking one's time in pleasing a lover has been lost in the haste for ultimate satisfaction. We forget to simply touch, breathe, watch.”
Mike was definitely watching. Riveted, wondering what she was
going to do next. A slow dance of seduction so unlike what he was
used to with sex. Grace was right. It was usually a rush of mouths and
hands and bodies tangling together—a race to penetration and orgasm.
There was no time taken to explore. No agonizing temptation. Nothing like what he was forced to endure as she skimmed her hand across her ribcage, then dipped it inside her skirt. Her eyelids fluttered closed as she found the target. Still clothed, all he could do was envision her hand covering her pussy. Was she bare down there or was there a tuft of dark hair over her mound? Would she glisten completely naked under his gaze, her body open and bare in the moonlight?
He'd never been so desperate to see before.
But he could smell her. All woman. He took a deep breath. She was so close he picked up the scent of her musky, deep desire. “Ahh,” she moaned. “So warm. My skin is soft, wet, aching for touch. My pussy quivers in anticipation of a climax.” She opened her eyes and met his gaze. “I need to come, Mike.”
She felt everything. He could only imagine, and his synapses were firing overtime. All he could see was her hand moving up and down under her skirt. It was driving him crazy. He wanted to lean her back against the couch, lift her silk skirt and plant his mouth over her steaming cunt, then lick her until she screamed, flooding his mouth with her come.
But this was her game, and she was in charge. It would be so easy to take his cock out and jack off watching her, but he wanted this to be for her. He wanted her to be the center of attention and no matter how rock hard his dick got, no matter how tightly his balls knotted up, he wasn't going to get off. Not yet, anyway.
That was going to happen later, when he was inside her. So he was just going to have to grip the edge of the chair with both hands and ride this out for as long as it took Or as long as she took. And frankly, drinking in the sight of her, watching her move her hand farther down between her legs, not being able to see but knowing exactly what she was doing . . .
It was insane. Fucking hot and crazy. He'd wanted to do something he'd never done before? This was it. This wasn't “Get down to it and fuck hard.” It wasn't “Do it ten different ways upside down or hanging from the ceiling.” This was slow seduction. A woman who knew her body and how to pleasure herself and her man. A torturous tease, fully clothed.
Yeah, he'd never had it like this before. He dug his fingers into the thick leather chair and hung on for the ride. Her face flushed, the lights from the city casting her in a blue glow as she moved her hips in a sinuous rhythm to the slow, rhythmic jazz playing on the radio. She was like a classy stripper, only no clothes were coming off and it was driving him to the brink. She taunted him with what he couldn't see—just the stroking movements of her hand under her skirt. But then he heard it—the sound of her fingers slipping inside her pussy. Wet, sucking sounds as she fucked herself, followed by her low moan.
Fuck!
“Do you hear it?” she asked, her voice tight with strain.
“Yes.”
“My pussy's so wet, Mike.”
“Tell me how many fingers you have inside yourself.”
“Two. It feels so good. Oh, it feels so damn good.” Her lips were parted and she was breathing through her mouth now. Panting, actually. He wanted to be where she was. He wanted his fingers inside her, making her feel that good. He wasn't sure he'd ever wanted anything more in his life.
The undulations under her skirt grew faster. She tucked her other hand in her skirt, then shifted her hips forward.
“My clit's swollen.”
“Tell me what you're doing.” He had to know. His cock was near bursting. He'd never felt such pain before, so much excitement. “Fucking myself. One hand. Rubbing my clit with the other.”
She could barely speak through her panting breaths now. He found himself fighting for breath, too, as he watched her, forcing himself to keep his seat instead of leaping out of it to tear her skirt away and bury his face in her pussy. The scent of her was driving him mad. He hadn't come in his pants since he was a kid, but she was bringing him pretty close.
“Oh, oh, God I need to—“
“Do it, Grace. Come for me.” He couldn't wait one more god-I damn minute, and if she didn't have an orgasm soon, he wasn't sure he could hold to his part of the bargain. She squeezed her eyes shut, tilted her head back and let out a cry as she released, her hands moving fast and furious under her skirt. Mike drank in every sound, every jerk her body made as she shuddered and moaned through her climax. It was amazing, ratcheting up his excitement like nothing he'd ever seen.
When she was finished she opened her eyes and looked at him, pulled her hands out of her skirt and licked her lips, blowing out a deep breath.
“Wow,” she whispered, then sat on the couch and dipped her chin to her chest. She was still panting.
He was still hard. Aching, painfully hard.
And in awe of a woman who could make him feel things he hadn't felt in far too long. He moved out of his chair and next to her, lifting her hand and bringing it to his lips. The scent of her pussy was all over her. Sweet, musky, driving into his senses and wrapping around his brain.
He kissed her hand, licked her fingertips. Sweet, salty flavor on his tongue as he sucked each digit into his mouth. She didn't take her gaze from his lips as he licked her clean, her violet eyes going dark as she watched him.
“You were incredible,” he finally said. “I've never experienced any-I thing like it.”