Wilde Thing (23 page)

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Authors: Janelle Denison

BOOK: Wilde Thing
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He picked up her hand, those red, polished nails of hers turning him on, and sought to distract her with other things, like how taken he was with her. “You look absolutely amazing.”

A blush swept across her cheeks, matching the glossy shade of red she was wearing on her lips. “Thank you … for the compliment and everything else.”

Grinning, he stroked his thumb along the pulse in her wrist. “You’re welcome, for the compliment and everything else.”

He winked at her, telling her without words that he knew exactly what “everything else” applied to: the outfit and lingerie he’d sent to her. Although the partition between them and the driver was raised, there was no telling if anyone was listening in on their conversation; therefore, they still needed to keep things low-key.

He splayed his palm on her knee and playfully fingered the hem of her dress. “Mind if I take a peek at everything else?” he asked shamelessly.

“Be my guest,” she invited boldly.

He slowly, gradually pushed up the bright-red material,
taking in the way the nude stockings made her legs shimmer and the lacy band at the top hugged her thighs. Lifting his gaze back to hers, he used his imagination as he traced the garter strap with his fingers, smiled as he touched her panties, and her breath quickened. He found the ties at the sides of her hips, and his groin tightened at the thought of how easy it would be to tug on those ties and remove that flimsy barrier between his fingers and her soft feminine flesh.

“Very, very nice,” he murmured, and withdrew his hand from beneath her dress.

“Thank you.” Her sultry voice was laced with the same desire shining in her eyes.

He stroked his fingers along her throat and down the deep, plunging V neck of her dress, watching with pleasure as her breasts quivered at the illicit caress, and her nipples peaked against the fabric. “For as incredible as you look, the dress is missing something, though.”

She frowned at him. “I can’t imagine what.”

“Let me show you.” Reaching into his coat pocket, he withdrew a flat, velvet-lined box and flipped open the top, revealing a delicate choker of sparkling diamonds shaped into connecting hearts, along with matching earrings.

She gasped in shock, and her wide eyes shot to his. She shook her head, the gesture as firm as her tone when she spoke. “Steve,
no.”

He’d anticipated her reaction, but he wasn’t taking no for an answer. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, but I insist.” Very casually he removed the necklace from the velvet lining and released the clasp. “If you’re going to be mine tonight, I want you to look the part of a pampered escort.”

Considering the charade they were playing, his request was simple enough, and it would be in bad taste for her to argue, and she knew it, too. But he could tell she wasn’t happy about accepting yet another gift from
him, even as she turned in her seat and allowed him to put the choker on for her.

It had been a spur-of-the-moment decision to buy her the extra accessories. When the woman at the boutique had suggested one of their inexpensive rhinestone necklace sets to compliment the dress, Steve decided that he wanted her to wear the real thing. She deserved the real thing. And he could easily afford it.

Once the necklace was secured, he let his fingers linger at the sensitive nape of her neck and kissed her warm, smooth shoulder. He felt her shiver, and she glanced over her shoulder at him, searching his face, his expression, which he hoped revealed exactly how he felt about her.

“This is too much,” she protested in an aching whisper.

It wasn’t nearly enough, not when he wanted to give her everything she desired, if only she’d let him into her heart. “Let me be the judge of that, okay?”

She swallowed hard and touched the necklace reverently, tracing the line of connecting diamond hearts with her fingers, her gaze never leaving his. He saw the love shimmering in the depths of her eyes, knew it was there even if she wasn’t ready to admit to the emotion.

And for now, for tonight, that knowledge would have to be enough.

Liz kept her arm linked through Steve’s and remained close to his side as they mingled in the casual, cocktail-party atmosphere, using him as an anchor as well as making sure that the other party girls knew that he was taken,
by her.
Many interested gazes connected with both her and Steve—silent, sexual inquiries that made it clear that swapping couples during the course of the night was more than welcome, as was enjoying multiple partners.

Liz shuddered at the thought, took another swallow of her wine to subdue the jitters in her stomach, and tightened her hold on Steve’s arm. She wouldn’t be sharing her guy with anyone, and they would be out of there just as soon as they gleaned the information they were after.

She’d also made up her mind that if this party produced no results as far as Valerie was concerned, then she was going to call her aunt and uncle and let them handle the situation, no matter how much it pained her to do so. She’d done all she could on her end, and she refused to drag out her cousin’s absence any longer than the week she’d been gone.

“Are you doing okay?” Steve asked, apparently sensing her discomfort. “Because if you’re feeling uneasy about any of this, we can leave.”

She appreciated his concern and protective, sensitive nature, but she had to see this through. She drew a deep, fortifying breath and flashed him the kind of sensual smile an escort would bestow upon her client. “We’ve come this far; I’m not about to turn back now.”

“Good girl. I’ll get you out of here as soon as possible,” he promised, and kissed her, long and slow and deep, staking his claim on her for anyone who cared to watch. When he finally let her up for air, he murmured huskily, “What do you say we go check out the rest of this swanky place?”

She managed a nod, set her empty wine glass on a passing tray, and followed Steve into the “fantasy” section of the stately residence, where other party girls and clients were viewing playrooms and signing up for the ones that appealed to them—for an extra fee. While Steve appeared intrigued at all the extras that were offered, and Liz was undeniably curious about the props, decorations, and different playrooms she caught sight of, she had no intentions of venturing into that forbidden side of The Ultimate Fantasy.

The mansion was huge and lavishly decorated, with five upper levels of rooms and two other levels that were below the main floor. Each playroom they passed or entered was a complete den of iniquity, decorated in themes that catered to carnal desires and sinful fantasies and touched on every fetish or kink imaginable. Voyeurism, domination, the dungeon, group sex, and the classic ménage à trois were among the most favored playrooms. There were floor-to-ceiling mirrors in most of the lounges, large, plush couches for lovers to enjoy, a free-for-all edible body painting event, and a sex-toy shop complete with all the latest sexual gadgets. In keeping with safe sex, there were bowls of condoms everywhere, and guests weren’t shy about plucking up a handful as they passed.

She recognized a few of the operators she worked with, scantily clad in some of the most risqué outfits Liz had ever seen, making her feel overdressed in comparison. Some of those women were bold enough to flirt blatantly with Steve in front of her and let him know they were game for
anything.
More than a few times, Liz experienced a flash of jealousy and had to force herself to tamp down that green-eyed monster while Steve played along with their charade, flashing a charming smile and using their attention to his advantage to ask casually where they could find Trixie Lane.

They quickly learned that Trixie was a popular party girl, and very elusive.

As the evening progressed, the playrooms rapidly filled up with eager participants, and the atmosphere throughout the mansion changed from casual to hedonistic pleasure being the main objective, and there were many who didn’t care where the sex took place. She and Steve remained in the bar area, with a large dance floor that was filled to capacity. The heavy, sensual beat of the music inspired a lot of bumping and grinding,
and embraces that were as intimate as the dance of sex itself.

Drinks flowed freely, loosening inhibitions, and more than once Liz felt the pass of a hand over her bottom and along her thighs as the guests grew more aggressive despite the fact that she was clearly with Steve. The crush of bodies on the dance floor grew overwhelming, and when she told Steve that she needed fresh air, he didn’t hesitate to take her out onto the adjoining balcony. Unfortunately, they weren’t alone as Liz had hoped; other lovers apparently had exactly the same idea.

Steve leaned against the wrought-iron railing and pulled her to him so she stood between his thighs, their bellies and thighs aligned. He stroked his hands down her bare back, let his palms gently caress her bottom, and nuzzled her neck.

“You’re completely wound up,” he said, obviously feeling the tension thrumming through her. “Are you ready to go?”

Liz bit back a moan as Steve’s warm, soft mouth opened on her throat. She didn’t want to give up so soon, but they’d been at The Ultimate Fantasy for over two hours, and she was beginning to think their search for Trixie was going to end up being fruitless. She also felt extremely out of place among the couples who were growing increasingly more physical with one another. Just mere feet away on a lounge chair, two women and a man were going at it hot and heavy, clothes were being shed, and there was no doubt in Liz’s mind how that threesome was going to end up.

“Lucky guy,” Steve said, his tone warm with amusement as he, too, watched the erotic scene unfolding next to them.

One woman straddled the man’s bare torso and leaned into him, offering her breast to his mouth, while the other party girl lowered the zipper on his pants, released his burgeoning shaft, and gave him a blow job.

Mutual moans of pleasure echoed out on the balcony, and Liz’s breathing deepened and her skin felt flushed. Steve rolled his hips against hers, fitting his erection in the notch between her thighs, and Liz was shocked to realize that she was wet and highly aroused. It was like watching an X-rated movie, but live and in person.

She tried to look away, but Steve wouldn’t let her.

“If they’re doing it out here in front of everyone, there’s nothing wrong with watching and letting it turn you on,” he said, his hot breath teasing her ear just as his fingers teased the backs of her thighs, opening them wider so he could exert a more illicit pressure against her aching sex.

The trio was switching positions, with the man lying flat on his back. One woman sank down on his cock and rode him with abandon, while the other rode his mouth, which allowed the two party girls to pleasure each other as well.

Liz decided she’d seen more than enough, and just as she opened her mouth to tell Steve that she wanted to leave and finish their own
twosome
somewhere private and alone, they were interrupted.

“I hate to break the mood, lovers,” a husky feminine voice purred from behind Liz, “but I heard you were asking for Trixie Lane.”

Steve’s entire demeanor changed instinctively, shifting from amorous to aware in a heartbeat. He straightened and moved Liz so she was standing by his side instead of in front of him, though he still held her hand in his.

The gorgeous, voluptuous redhead wearing a nearly see-through black dress touched a hand to the swell of her breasts and smiled at Steve—a very practiced come-hither smile that no man, or woman, could mistake.

Whoever this woman was, she wanted Steve.

“And you are … ?” Steve drawled pleasantly.

“The woman you’re apparently looking for.” Trixie ignored Liz and gave Steve an appreciative once-over, her eyes alight with interest. Apparently liking what she saw, she extended a more intimate invitation. “Why don’t you come with me, alone, and we’ll talk about what I can do for you.”

A blatant solicitation if Liz ever heard one, from the one woman who could give them the information they so desperately needed.

With an artful, seductive toss of her cascading tresses, Trixie turned and walked back through the balcony’s French doors, slender hips swaying, confident in knowing the effect she had on the opposite sex, since most were ogling her as she strolled away. She glanced one last time over her shoulder and crooked her finger at Steve, beckoning him to follow.

His jaw clenched, and the frustrated look he shot Liz told her that he was torn between staying and going. This was the lead they’d come here for, and while Liz couldn’t bring herself to give him the verbal okay he seemed to be waiting for, they both knew what he had to do.

“Shit,” he said, clearly unhappy about the turn of events. “I’ll be right back.” He strode after Trixie, pursuing her through the throng of people gathered inside the bar and dance area.

Liz followed at a discreet distance, watching from afar as Trixie headed up to the second floor, where the playrooms were located. She stopped at the top of the stairs and waited for Steve to join her. A sinful smile curved the other woman’s lips when he arrived. Trixie leaned toward Steve, much too close for Liz’s liking, said something in his ear, then sashayed down a hallway.

Liz’s stomach knotted when Steve hesitated only a few seconds before following. Liz definitely did not want to know how Steve planned to extract the information
he needed from Trixie Lane—or what the other woman might expect from him in return.

God, she needed a drink.

“You look like you could use a drink.”

Startled by the comment that echoed her exact thoughts, Liz glanced up at the blond-haired, good-looking guy who’d issued the statement, and wondered if she looked as desperate and devastated as she felt.

Seeing no harm in accepting his offer, she summoned a smile and said, loud enough for him to hear over the music, “I’d love a glass of Chardonnay.”

He returned with her drink minutes later, and she took a huge gulp of the liquid, then another.

“Thank you,” she said, immediately feeling the warm, calming effects of the wine.

“You’re welcome. The name’s John. Care to dance?” He hooked a finger toward the crowded dance floor.

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