A Gentleman in the Street (24 page)

Anyone could come upon them, but he didn’t care. And judging by the way she widened her thighs, neither did she.

He ran his hands up her smooth legs, the powerful muscles of her calves inviting him to linger. He had no time for that, though. His index finger pushed the thin fabric of her lacy black thong aside
,
and he inhaled, dragging in the scent of her wet body. He extended his tongue and gave her one, long, slow lick along her vulva. His taste buds demanded more immediately, but he slammed a lid over his instincts, not allowing himself to linger at the button of her clitoris.

One sip. He swallowed, savoring her taste. Licked his lips, in case a trace of her clung there. He lowered her skirt and rose to his feet. Her hair was so shiny and perfect, he was loath to disturb it, so he nudged it aside only the barest amount to kiss her neck, his hands tightening on her hips as she gave a breathy moan. Her head turned, her lips seeking his. Her breath was coming fast, pupils dilated.

“No matter what happens the rest of the night,” he growled, a stranger having gained control of his mouth. A stranger he liked, one he had buried long ago. “Remember the first tongue you had on you tonight was mine.”

Since he wasn’t capable of stopping, he pulled her close and pressed a kiss on her lips. He meant for it to be sweet and gentle, but he couldn’t control his pent
-
up need. It quickly turned blisteringly sexual, especially once she tugged at his lip with her teeth.

He cradled her neck and tilted her head, angling her so he could fuck her mouth with his. And that’s what this was, the darkest, basest approximation of sex. He wanted to rip off her dress and pull her to her knees and sink inside of her right here and right now.

Wait.

Yes. If he waited, it could only be better.

They separated, both breathing hard. He studied Akira’s face, her cheeks flushed, her red lips slick. “Will you remember?”

“I will.” Her smile came, quick, fleeting, and oddly, painfully sad. But genuine, not one of her practiced deals. “Who are you?” The question was wondering and a little frightened.

He gave her a blinding smile, his chest expanding. “I don’t know anymore. Let’s find out.”

Jacob wasn’t sure what he expected when he entered a hedonistic den of sin, but a nice, sophisticated cocktail party wasn’t at the top of his list.

There was a chandelier in the salon, but no one was swinging from it. The Oriental rug was lush, but naked bodies weren’t rolling around on it. No one was wearing a mask and advancing on him menacingly with a butt plug as soon as he entered.

Anticlimactic.

Roughly twenty people were gathered in a sitting room which was larger than the entire first floor of his house. He patted himself on the back when he realized most of the men were dressed as he was, though a few had also donned ties.

The women, for the most part, wore cocktail dresses, a couple on the risqué side. He might be biased, but none of them were as beautiful as Akira. None of them, not even the ones who cast him curious, hungry looks, made him want to shove them into a dark corner and inhale them.

Jacob took a sip of his beer and leaned against the bar, instinctively seeking Akira out in the crowd. In here, her vibrancy was dialed up to blinding. The air around her crackled, and guests turned and looked when she laughed or spoke.

She’d been drawn into a conversation by a group of women as soon as they had entered. She had nodded to the bar and told him to grab a drink. He had gratefully retreated.

Your usual M.O. Stop observing. Start participating.

A man came to stand next to him. “Scotch,” he said to the bartender, his voice smooth. And familiar.

Jacob cast him a glance, and then did a double take. Jesus. He shouldn’t have been surprised, he supposed, but a part of him hadn’t really expected to see the man from that charity dinner, the man who had screwed Akira while he watched. Silly assumption. If the guy was okay with Jacob watching him fuck Akira at a party for a nonprofit organization, why wouldn’t he be here tonight?

Remy was even better looking out of the fluorescent lights of that storage closet. Great. Jacob rubbed his jaw, thankful he had, at least, shaved for tonight.

As if he was used to perusals from men and women, the other man grinned at him and accepted the drink from the bartender, his blue eyes dancing. “Hello, Jacob.”

Jacob tipped his head. “Hi. Remy, right?”

“Yeah.” His grin broadening, the man stuck out his hand. “Thought I recognized you, standing over here by yourself. First time at Akira’s, huh?”

Jacob accepted it, raising an eyebrow at the pressure Remy exerted on his fingers. Damn it, he hated when men played this particular game. “You don’t want to do that.”

“Do what?” Remy asked, still smiling. But now Jacob caught the sharp edge to his smile.

Internally sighing, Jacob returned the squeeze at only a fraction of what he was capable of. Still, Remy winced, his hand immediately loosening its grasp.

“That’s what,” Jacob said apologetically. “I’m kind of strong, and if I’m not wrong, you’re a model of some sort and probably need your appendages intact.”

“Uh, yeah.” Remy surreptitiously massaged his hand with the other. “I’m not exactly a model, but I do work with my hands. Thanks.”

Jacob shrugged, resigned to feeling like a large, lumbering oaf around the lean and elegant man. “No problem.”

Remy watched him, but this time with cautiousness, as he sipped his scotch. “We don’t get a lot of newbies. Most of us here…” he nodded to the party, “…know each other well.”

“I bet.”

A dimple appeared in the man’s cheek. “You’ll get to know us too. Don’t you worry.”

“Oh, I’m not worried.”

“It’s natural to be nervous the first time.” The man leaned in close. “Just remember, if the butt plugs are too large and scary looking, you can request something smaller.”

Jacob took a long pull from his beer and placed it on the bar with a definitive click. “So you know, I’ve raised three teenagers. If they haven’t been able to fuck with my head yet, neither will you.”

“But I can fuck you otherwise, right?” Remy purred. “That’s why you’re here.”

Jacob thought back to his conversation with Akira. He could have put men on his list of hard limits. But he hadn’t. He met Remy’s eyes squarely. “I’m here for lots of reasons.”

Remy’s lips thinned, unimpressed. “Akira doesn’t usually announce parties on the fly like this.”

“No?”

“No. And she doesn’t invite a new guy and make exceptions for him. And she doesn’t call me out of the blue and tell me she’s going to be my guest at a charity function. And she doesn’t bang me in a closet after making sure some guy is certain to follow.” Remy’s amicable mask slipped. “So tell me, Jacob. Who the hell are you?”

Akira had manipulated it so she would be at that charity dinner? Perhaps Jacob should be annoyed by that, but he was relieved. Thank God she had. Or he wouldn’t have had the balls to crawl back to her.

A laugh danced over the party, pulling Jacob’s attention away from the man in front of him. His shoulders tensed as he watched Akira throw back her head and chuckle. The noise was loud and rich and boisterous, and without his volition, his body leaned forward as if he could absorb it.

He had attended numerous parties where Akira had also been a guest. He’d never heard her laugh like that. Thinking back without the filter of fear and guilt, he recalled Akira would always spend the evening smiling her shark’s smile, coolly calculating her effect on everyone.

There was none of that here. These guests were her friends, not just people who happened to love a bit of kink. Akira wasn’t a loner. Harris wasn’t the only one in her corner. In the dark of night, she had her own inner circle.

Warmth coursed through him. Good, he thought savagely. She needed a line of defense. He could be in her inner circle, eventually, once she learned to trust him.

Patience. It took time and effort to storm a princess’s castle. He couldn’t run in, waving his mighty staff about.

Remy cleared his throat, and Jacob blinked, yanked out of contemplation. “I’m her…” he trailed off, “…friend.”

Remy’s expression was skeptical. “How did you meet her?”

Jacob attempted to focus. “Her mother married my father.”

“Her mom passed away a few months ago,” Remy said flatly.

“Yes.” Jacob couldn’t begin to explain their complicated history in a nutshell. “They were married a long time ago. Mei and my dad divorced.”

“I didn’t hear about this.”

“It’s common knowledge.” He cocked his head. “Unless…unless maybe you haven’t known Akira as long as I have.”

Remy’s nostrils flared at the subtle rebuke, but Jacob caught the glimmer of respect buried in his ice-blue eyes. Still, the man jabbed, his voice silken. “So you’re…stepsiblings.”

That sounded…wrong. “No. I mean—technically, yes, but it was only for a year, fourteen years ago.” He paused. Frowned. “And we were both grown, it’s not like we grew up together—”

“Jacob, stop talking. You’re making us sound utterly depraved.” Akira appeared at his elbow and smiled at Remy. “Remy. So glad you could make it.”

The warmth between the two was palpable as they kissed European style. “Thanks for inviting me, as always.” Remy turned laughing eyes on him. Jacob wasn’t fooled now, though. He was quite aware Remy would destroy him if he so much as lifted a finger against Akira. “I was just talking to your brother here,” he said smoothly.

“Behave, Remy,” Akira cautioned. “Or we both know I could call up
your
brother and have a chat with him.”

The other man’s eyes widened comically. “You would break my heart like that, love?”

“In a heartbeat.” Akira threaded her arm through Jacob’s. It felt right. So right, he covered her hand with his and looked down at her, only to find her studying him somberly. “Lay off the new guy. The Brother Jacob schtick is reserved solely for me.” Her face softened. “Or it was.”

Was? Why the past tense? Because the subtext, that he was a boring, sober monk, no longer applied?

Good. He gave her a wicked smile.

Remy wasn’t important any longer. Showing Akira how un-monk-like he could be was.

“Your wish is my command,” Remy said lightly.

Akira snorted and tore her gaze away to look at her friend. “If only it were that easy.”

Jacob realized then the room had quieted. He lifted his head, noting at least half the participants had departed. The ones remaining were occupied nuzzling with a partner or two. “Where is everyone?”

Remy answered, “There are two smaller salons Akira sets up for people who wish to participate in scenes. Who’s playing tonight?”

“Zoe, to start.”

The other man gave a low whistle. “Taking Jacob’s training wheels off on the first night, huh?”

“We both know I’m only easy when I want to be.”

“A scene…like, a show?” Jacob interrupted the banter.

Akira tipped her head. “Something like that.”

“As in control as Akira is, she’s remarkably hands-off on our little parties,” Remy responded, seeming to realize Akira’s answer told Jacob nothing. “Some of the guests like to put on a show.” He regarded Akira fondly. “Akira made sure they have a place to do it.”

Jacob snagged his beer bottle and drained it, a lot intrigued and a little apprehensive. “Sounds interesting.” He placed the bottle on the bar. “Shall we?”

Remy waved at them, his attention on a man across the room. “You guys go on. I’ll catch up with you.”

Jacob tightened his fingers on hers as Akira led him away. “If you wanted me to mingle, I’m afraid the only person I met was Remy.”

“I didn’t expect you to mingle. I expected you to go get a drink and then survey the crowd like you were watching a play. It’s what you do anytime there’s any kind of gathering.”

He glanced at her, surprised.

“What?” she asked. “I’ve been to dozens of parties with you.”

“I didn’t realize you were observing me at all those parties.” But why not? There hadn’t been a get-together he had been to where he wasn’t acutely aware of every action Akira made.

A flush crept up her chest. Jacob hid his smile. The woman could speak blithely about group sex, but point out that she may have surreptitiously studied his habits, and she blushed.

“I didn’t need to watch you like a hawk to catch a pattern,” she said defensively.

“Sure. And I do mingle, you know. You make me sound like a creepy shut-in.”

“Not creepy. Just brooding. Introverted.”

He squinted. “Brooding introverts build bombs in cabins in the Midwest.”

“They also write books.”

He surveyed the rest of the people remaining in the room they were leaving and dropped his voice. “Will these people have sex in here?”

“Some of them,” she responded, blasé. “I keep four rooms open on this floor, though the other three are generally for scenes. Everyone is free to use the space as they wish.”

They stepped inside the adjoining room. The low track lighting in the ceiling was focused on the raised dais in the middle.

“You’ve built a stage,” he said with some surprise.

“When people like to have pool parties, they install a pool,” Akira said matter-of-factly.

Half-a-dozen comfortable leather couches surrounded the stage. All but one was occupied. Akira sank onto the empty one and crossed her legs, the slit in her skirt revealing her silky smooth leg up to her thigh.

He settled next to her, his gaze drawn to that pale expanse of flesh. “What happens now?”

She shushed him as a dark-haired woman strode into the room, instantly capturing everyone’s attention. “Now you get to meet Zoe. Guests love her. She encourages audience participation.” She pursed her lips. “Let me know when you want to tap out.”

Jacob narrowed his eyes at his hostess. Akira was so cute when she was treating him like a naïve virgin. Cute and maddening.

Practical-experience wise, this might very well all be new for him, but he possessed a more fertile imagination than most normal people. Intellectually, his depravity ran deep.