Invitation to Seduction: Open Invitation, Book 1 (4 page)

“I’d go mad watching you.”

His breath caressed her hair, her ear, forcing a shudder she knew he could feel.

“I’d have to stroke my cock. I wouldn’t be able to hold back. Oh Jesus.”

He rubbed his erection in the crease of her butt. Her body, moving of its own volition, pushed back into him. The woman on the bed arched into her fingers, moving faster, her moans filtering through the fabric walls.

“Do you know how beautiful it is watching a woman touch herself? I want to watch you. I want to see your fingers dipping in all that hot cream. I need to see the pleasure on your face, hear you cry out. I’d kill for that.” His tongue traced the shell of her ear. She trembled. “Tell me your name.”

“Desiree.” Using the name was so easy, so simple. This close to him, she
was
Desiree. She
was
desire.

“Christ, what you do to me, Desiree. You’d bring a man to his knees for a touch of your hand on his cock. You’ve been driving me crazy all night. I’m going to see you in my dreams. Only you. With your fingers buried deep in your pussy.”

His words brought her to the edge. She held onto sanity with only one small part of her brain. She forgot even that as his hands tugged her skirt up.

Then he touched her, palmed her mound.

“You’re wet. And hot.” He took in a deep lungful of air. “You smell so good. I want to make you feel good. As good as she feels. Better.”

Outside her panties, he eased a finger along her slit, the friction of silk and his heat almost unbearable.

“If we were alone,” he whispered, “I’d taste you. I’d make you come over and over against my tongue. I’d savor every drop.”

She was going to come. Oh Jesus, oh God, he was going to make her come with a soft slide, a little circle. She gulped air and moved with him as he worked his cock against her backside.

She wanted his touch, wanted to come, wanted to turn and take him in any way she could.

“Come for me. I need to feel you come so bad, my guts ache.”

She rocked against his hand, trapped it between her thighs, rode him. She was so close, she couldn’t breathe. The woman on the bed screamed and rolled, hugging her hand between her legs as she climaxed.

For the first time, Debbie saw her face.

Virginia. Oh my God, the woman was Virginia.

Chapter Three

Debbie was in shock. That’s why she couldn’t talk. That’s why she was sitting next to Stacy in the front seat of the car with her fingernails tearing holes in the vinyl door grip.

Nothing better to rip you out of the moment than realizing your friend was masturbating right in front of you. In public. And you were letting a man touch you under your skirt.

While her head had been rudely jerked back to reality, Debbie’s body wouldn’t follow suit. It ached in delicate places. Pressing her thighs together made the sensation worse. She’d wanted that orgasm, wanted so badly to come by someone else’s hand besides her own. Though there was more than the physical. She’d needed his words, his passion. He’d followed
her
, touched
her
. In a sea of willing women, he’d chosen
her
. And he’d completely seduced her.

Yet she’d run before she’d let him take her to the stars.

Stacy glanced at her. “So. What’d you think, Debbie?”

Debbie stared out the window. “It was interesting.”

“Interesting?” Stacy snorted. “Where’d you go?”

“Just the rooms on the second floor.” She couldn’t say she’d been down to the viewing rooms. Virginia hadn’t said a word as they’d piled into the car. She and her fiancé were flying to Las Vegas in the morning for a quiet wedding, no frills, no attendants. Virginia’s last fling had been with herself, and Debbie wasn’t about to let on that she’d seen.

Stacy gave her a long look.

“Keep your eyes on the road, please.”

“You hid out in the ladies’ room, didn’t you, that’s why you disappeared so fast?” Disgust laced her friend’s voice.

She didn’t even wonder why Stacy would suggest such a thing. Debbie had been hiding out for years. Not tonight, but over the last few years of her marriage. She sneaked off to bed to ease her pain, both physical and mental, and was too ashamed to tell even her best friends what was bothering her.

She’d at first been appalled upon realizing that Virginia had exposed herself to the salacious gazes of a bunch of horny men. But on second thought, at least Virginia had courage. Debbie had skulked around in the shadows, on the fringes. Wanting and needy, but running away just the same.

Yeah, some Desiree she’d turned out to be. She deserved Stacy’s disgust. She’d employed the same tactics tonight that she did in her marriage. Retreat and hope they follow.

Except her husband didn’t follow. And she let him get away with it.

“Yeah, I was in the ladies’ room all night.”

She had to do something about her marriage before she went stark raving mad.

The only question was,
what
?

* * * * *

A cool breeze blew through the open bedroom window. Her husband snored softly. In a scrap of moonlight, Debbie could see the book he’d been reading lying in the middle of the bed. There was always a book or something else between them.

Her panties were still damp. She was wet. She had been most of the night. She knew she should feel guilty about what she’d done tonight. But she didn’t. She’d let the guilt come tomorrow.

Right now she needed that orgasm she’d denied herself.

She backed out of the bedroom, softly closing the door, then went into the den, shutting that door, too. She kicked off the high heels and laid back on the couch. With sinuous movements, as if someone watched her, she raised the tight skirt and peeled off her panties. The garter belt and stockings remained.

I need to see the pleasure on your face, hear you cry out.

Her fantasy man’s voice echoed through her. She spread her legs and dipped a finger in her pussy. Wet. Hot. Needy.

I want to see your fingers dipping in all that hot cream.

She willed herself back to that room at the club, felt the vibration of his voice inside her, his finger sliding across her. Circling her clitoris, she reached up to squeeze her breast, then pinched her nipple. She pushed her head back into the couch cushion and moaned.

I’m going to see you in my dreams. Only you. With your fingers buried deep in your pussy.

In her fantasies, he watched as she touched herself. Hot eyes, hard cock. Only for her. Her hips bucked. She’d never been so wet, a trickle of dew dripping down along the crease of her bottom. She swirled in her moisture, her clitoris a hard knot aching for release. She imagined him standing before her, his cock in his hand, stroking, faster, his hair a moonlit silver, the heat in his eyes unquenchable. She put one foot on the floor, spreading herself for his view, fitting the rhythm of her fingers to the image in her head. Oh, better yet, she would have him use that huge vibrator on her, like the man she’d seen in that upstairs room. Yes, yes. Pumping her with it, harder, faster, deeper. Heat blossomed in her clitoris and streamed out to every part of her body. Her hips rocked. Her pussy burned.

Come for me. I need to feel you come so bad, my guts ache.

She burst wide open in a flash of blinding light and searing heat between her legs. She didn’t know if she cried out and for that long moment, she didn’t care. She rode the climax with his words filling her to the brim.

* * * * *

His cell phone rang just as Stephen threw his keys on the hall table. He answered, knowing who it was without asking. “It’s none of your business, Stacy.”

“I don’t want details. I only want to know if Debbie enjoyed herself.”

She had. For a moment. Until something had frightened her, he couldn’t say what. “You need to talk to her, not me. I told you whatever happens stays between Debbie and me.”

“Call her Desiree.”

“That’s not her name.”

Once, a long time ago, he’d thought about sleeping with Stacy. Until he’d figured out she was all hard edges. He’d always preferred a softer woman. Like Debbie.

Silence a moment. “You care about her, don’t you?” Stacy sounded almost wistful.

It pissed him off that she was planning something in that sneaky little brain of hers. “You’re not her fairy godmother. You can’t wave your magic wand and make her life perfect.”

“I sent her you, and she thinks she can quit her job at the end of the year.”

“Don’t take credit for her talent. That’s what’ll allow her to turn everything around. All you did was network for her.”

“You’re being mean, Stephen.”

“Why did you call? I’m not a dirty-detail kind of guy.”

“I want to know if you’re seeing her again. That’s all. No details.”

“We do all our business through email.”

“No, I mean...
seeing
her, like you did tonight.”

He suddenly didn’t want Stacy probing Debbie for any of those elusive details. “I won’t be seeing her again like that.” She’d run. He’d lost. Maybe they’d both lost.

“You will if you go to the club.”

“She’s not going there again.”

“I slipped the card into the purse she borrowed. She’ll find it tomorrow when she cleans it out before she returns it. I give her three days before she simply has to go again.”

“The club wasn’t her gig.” It wasn’t his either. If Stacy hadn’t conned him into going, ostensibly to watch out for Debbie, he wouldn’t have gone within miles of the place. Though he had to admit there was something about all that rampant sex. In his younger days? Maybe. Now, closing in on the big five-oh, sex wasn’t just about...sex. It was about the relationship, about finding someone who shared your passion, about not wanting to face the rest of your life alone. You didn’t find the right woman to share your life with at a sex club.

“Stephen. She needs you. That bastard is cheating on her, I know it, I feel it. She needs you to rescue her from that terrible marriage.”

He was damn tired of this conversation. He’d been listening to different renditions for weeks now. “If he is, she’s got to deal with it. I can’t rescue her. I’m hanging up now, Stacy.”

“But—”

He didn’t say good-bye before he punched the End button. Leaving a trail of clothes, he made it to the bathroom, took care of the necessities, then crawled into bed.

He couldn’t sleep. When he closed his eyes, he smelled the heady musk of Debbie’s arousal. He wasn’t into touching another man’s wife. But he couldn’t help wanting her. He’d lived a long time, searching for perfection,
his
perfection. He’d never married, always thinking that he’d meet her just around the corner. When he finally did, she wasn’t free.

In the past few months, he’d looked forward to her emails far more than he should have. And yes, at night, he’d imagined her face in his hands, her lips receiving his kiss, her mouth taking his cock. Tonight, feeling her body tremble in his arms had catapulted him into full-blown obsession.

The sane part of his brain dictated that he set up a meeting, tell her his feelings, and see how she reacted. The crazy half, which also comprised his lower head, said she needed to be as obsessed as he was. He needed to seduce her. He had to bind her with his passion.

He’d spend a fortune to make sure he was at The Sex Club every night, hoping Stacy was right, that Debbie would have to go back. She’d have to go back for
him
.

* * * * *

She’d dressed like a tart, watched people having sex, and let a man she’d never seen before put his hand between her legs. Then, with his words in her head, she’d given herself an orgasm, the likes of which she’d never known. Debbie stared at the embossed card lying on her worktable in the garage. Someone, most likely Stacy, had sneaked it into her purse last night.

Debbie took a steadying breath and picked up the soldering iron. A couple of blotchy spots needed smoothing, and then the piece would be ready for the patina. The carousel horse was her most ambitious work to date, with over a hundred pieces, some of them no bigger than her thumbnail. She’d promised Stephen she’d have it to him by Friday. It would be there early.

I’d go mad watching you. I’d have to stroke my cock.

She closed her eyes. The words shouldn’t be important, but they were. The emotional high was like a drug spreading through her veins.

Had she committed adultery? She’d let a man who wasn’t her husband touch her. Even if his hand hadn’t been in her panties. Then she’d given herself an orgasm just by imagining his voice. Oh my God. Adultery or not, it was wrong.

“How’s it going?”

She almost dropped the soldering iron onto the glass, a bolt of fear and guilt jolting through her body. Her husband stood with one foot in and one foot out of the kitchen door. For a panicky moment, she thought he might come into the garage for a look at what she was doing. Then he’d see the card. She grabbed it and shoved it into her back pocket.

Guilty, guilty, guilty
flashed like a neon sign above her head. Taking a deep breath, she put the soldering iron in its holder and wiped her palms on her jeans. Then she wondered what she was worried about. She could tell him any lie she wanted, and he wouldn’t question her. He wouldn’t want to know.

That hurt worse than anything else. He was good to her in so many ways. Why not in the one she needed?

He came to the table, leaning down to study her work. “You know, I admire your diligence and persistence. You never give up. I’m proud of that. I’m proud of
you
.”

“Thanks. That’s really sweet.”
Don’t be nice to me, please, don’t be nice.
It made the guilt worse.

“Well, have fun. I’m going to do a little gardening.” He backed off, then gathered a few tools and his gloves. Gardening was one of the few things he seemed to enjoy these days.

Once, a few months ago, when she’d been needy and on the edge, she’d told him she couldn’t survive if he didn’t have passion for her. He’d asked why that one thing was so important. Why the only thing he couldn’t give her should make her feel as if nothing else in their life together was good enough.