Past Midnight (7 page)

Dominic laced his fingers through hers and led her across the marble foyer. “Food first,” he told her. Maslow’s hierarchy of needs; air, food, drink, then sex, though that wasn’t exactly how Maslow would have expressed it.

Like something out of an antebellum mansion, a wide carpeted staircase rose before them, then parted at a small landing to climb in opposite directions to the second floor. On the left of the stairs, wide doors led to a large sitting room that extruded voices and laughter like a well-oiled machine, but, like carnivores on the hunt, most of the throng followed the sweet and tangy scents wafting through the archway to the right. The attire was anything from jeans and polo shirts to fancy cocktail dresses, the colors as vivid as a peacock’s feathers. There were more men than women, and the women, for the most part, were under the age of thirty. Stereotypical playthings for rich, old men. Dominic preferred his own woman to any twentysomething.

He jumped in line behind one of the few middle-aged couples, snagged a flute of champagne from a huge tray set by the door, and handed it to Erin.

“Oh my God.” Her voice was breathy against his ear, awestruck. “Would you look at that spread.”

She gazed in wonder at the magnificent buffet. Trust food to bring her to life. Thank God he hadn’t fed her well. It was as if they’d entered another time, another place, a foreign setting, where their past didn’t have to exist and Erin could forget for a while, be the woman he’d married rather than the mother who’d lost everything. He squeezed her hand. “Hungry?”

“You know I’m famished. A salad,” she scoffed. “What were you thinking?”

“I was thinking about this.” He swept his hand before them, but it wasn’t the platters stacked high with fresh shrimp, lobster, and crab that made his mouth water. It was the sudden animation on her face, the sparkle in her eyes. So what if it didn’t last? He was living for the moment.

The meat had already been pulled from the cracked shells. He held her champagne and a plate to share while she mounded it with shellfish. “So this guy is rich?”

He hadn’t seen Miterberg yet, but the man was known for ostentation and risky business. By midnight, his guests would be swimming naked in the heated pool. And a whole lot more.

If everything went according to plan, Erin would be crazy with desire in a couple of hours. He wasn’t hoping for a public display at the party. That was asking way too much. He was thinking about after that. She might not even be able to wait for the hotel. He imagined doing her in a secluded glade off the highway. He’d been on the lookout as he drove.

“Do you want some Brie?” She held up a small knife.

He wanted something smooth, hot, and creamy, and it wasn’t Brie. She laid a few crackers alongside the cheese on the plate. Then she raised her eyes and batted her lashes. “Maybe you need your own plate. This one’s getting full.”

He felt himself coming to life right along with her. The trip could work. It could be a new beginning for them.

While she concentrated on a tray of fruit cut in intricate designs, he let his gaze wander the room and found himself captured by a man leaving the head of the line. His eyes on Erin’s ass as she leaned slightly over the table, the guy almost bumped into a woman passing by him.

Though his hair was silver, the lines on his face didn’t make him out to be more than in his midforties. Where Dominic had chosen slacks and a button-down shirt, this guy had gone the tuxedo route. Erin liked a sharp dresser, James Bond style as played by Sean Connery. Elegant without being prissy.

As he watched his wife being assessed, something hot blossomed in his gut. He wasn’t ashamed to admit that. It was partly pride of ownership, and he enjoyed that this man couldn’t tear his gaze from the sexy sway of his wife’s ass as, oblivious, she picked through the buffet.

Before he could point the guy out, though, he’d disappeared through the open doors at the far end.

Erin walked away with a full plate. “God, this is seductive,” she said as he caught up. She dipped a morsel of lobster in a little tub of drawn butter she’d poured.

Seductive? An odd word. “The food?”

She shrugged. “The opulence. Like hanging around sports pros or rock stars. You can see why people become groupies.” She held up a shrimp dredged in cocktail sauce.

He ate from her fingers, licking away the remaining sauce, his blood starting to rush. “Yeah, sex, drugs, and rock ’n’ roll.” He steered her to the same open doorway through which her admirer had vanished. Beyond lay a large sunroom cascading with hanging plants and potted ferns, rattan chairs, chaises, and rag rugs. A citrus scent from indoor fruit trees perfumed the air. Couples lounged and laughed, exchanging seductive glances and touches, but nothing untoward. Yet.

He didn’t see the man among them.

“Have a cracker.” She fed him one slathered in a delicious cheese, watching his mouth as he ate. Beneath the velvet of her dress, he detected the pearl of a nipple.

She
was seduced, stepping out of herself. She hated party schmoozing. Especially when he talked business and wasn’t paying as much attention as he should. Thus was the difference. Here, she was the center of his attention. He noticed everything, her tongue slipping along her finger to catch a drop of butter, the rich shade of her lipstick, the fall of her red hair across her shoulders and back. The way men looked at her.

He wanted to toss aside the plate, lay her down on a chaise lounge, and fuck her right here in front of everyone. The way they’d fantasized in their previous life. The way he’d done her up against that tree with a pair of hikers watching. He wanted that other life.

All he had was this weekend.

“Drink your champagne.” He traded her for the plate, taking her hand as they wended their way through the crowd.

She sipped. “Wow, this is the expensive stuff.”

She noticed things like that, her childhood having been poor. His had been hard, too, but money had always seemed more important to her than to him. Not that he didn’t like or appreciate having it, and he’d worked hard to get it.

They feasted, sipped champagne, and wandered the room for a bit, then headed out to the patio. He laid the plate on a table by the French door as the scent of chlorine overlaid the citrus. Tiny lights illuminated the edge of the kidney-shaped pool, and water bubbled over a rock formation at the far end, simulating a waterfall. In the shadow of the rocks, a Jacuzzi frothed, vapor rising into the cooler air. From its depths, three couples and a man saluted with champagne glasses, a heap of clothing on several chaises next to the pool. It wasn’t midnight, and they were already getting naked.

Erin skirted the hot tub and headed out to the boat dock. Lights twinkled along the opposite shore. The night having grown cooler, goose bumps pebbled her bare arms, but he didn’t move to touch her beyond their clasped hands.

Sometimes he was incapable of taking the slam when she turned him down. He couldn’t bear it now.

She drew in a deep breath, staring across the water. “Thank you.” She sipped the good champagne.

“You’re welcome.” For what?

“I was really hungry. And that was good.”

He had a feeling she was speaking of something else entirely, sustenance, maybe, but not food. Maybe something a little bit higher on Maslow’s hierarchy.

She didn’t specify. He didn’t ask.
Thank you
was enough. A moment later he led her away from the boat dock. Something creaked in the virtual darkness at the edge of the patio, on the backside of the Jacuzzi and waterfall. Erin stopped, tugging his hand.

The darkness coalesced into shapes. A couple of lounge chairs. One of them was . . . moving, then, his eyes adjusting, he made out the twin moons of a man’s ass surrounded by a pair of alabaster legs gleaming in the moonlight.

Erin put her lips to his ear. “You weren’t joking all those times.”

“I told you there was a lot of sex going on.”

“I thought you made a lot of it up.”

He grinned. “Some. But certainly not all.”

“They’re fucking.” She sidled close, hugging his arm. “God, that’s hot.”

“Yes.” The first time you actually saw live spontaneous sex, it was hot and exciting simply for the novelty. Though he couldn’t say this was exactly a seductive sight, the ass in question a bit too large and flabby.

For a moment he wondered if it was Jamison. But Jamison, despite his talk about not telling his wife, had never actually done anything at any of the parties Dominic had seen him at.

“What wasn’t real in all the stories you told me?” Her breath was a warm puff fanning his neck. She still hadn’t taken her gaze off the oblivious couple.

“There was no orgy.”

He imagined he could actually feel her body heating against him. “But everything else?” she prodded.

He tried to remember what he’d thought would excite her, the things he’d exaggerated or downright made up. “Give me a reminder.”

“Two guys taking that woman between them.”

“DP?”

She rolled her eyes, still watching the tableau by the patio corner. “Glad you know all the lingo. Yes, double penetration.”

“I made it up. They did her separately.”

She looked at him then, arching a brow.

“All three played together, sucking and kissing, but one of them did her first, then the other.”

“You were a lot sexier at this over the phone.”

He grinned. “Sorry. I’m out of practice.”

A loud groan punctuated the laughter coming from the Jacuzzi. Moon-Ass was closing in on his climactic moment, and he followed the groan with a series of long grunts.

Erin laughed. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d heard that particular husky unselfconscious tone.

“He sounds like those turtles we saw at the zoo,” she whispered, laughter in her words.

The mating turtles. They’d gone at it for damn near half an hour. Jay had asked what they were doing. After the first few weeks, she didn’t bring up anything they’d done with Jay, as if all the memories had been expunged. She hadn’t even spoken Jay’s name and pulled up short if even the slightest reference reminded her. But here, she’d recalled that scene with the turtles. And she’d smiled at the memory. He didn’t comment, didn’t want to break the moment, saying instead, “Not as sexy as you hoped, huh.”

“The night’s young.” Then she touched his arm, and her voice dipped to a seductive note. “Show me more.”

HER WORDS WERE MORE THAN DOMINIC COULD HAVE HOPED FOR, more than he’d dreamed. Back in the house, he led her to a vacant rattan sofa in the sunroom. The lighting here was more ambient, unlike the brightly lit, open-beamed living room on the other side of a set of open French doors.

“Would you get me another, honey?” Erin waggled her empty champagne glass.

When he returned, the silver-haired man had found her. Standing by a potted lemon tree, the guy hung back, watching her as Dominic passed.

“Your wife is very beautiful.” His voice was a deep baritone Erin would love.

“Yes, she is.”

He was an inch or so shorter than Dominic, his eyes blue. “You’re a lucky man.”

“I know.” Then he left the man and joined his beautiful wife on the sofa. She’d curled herself into the corner, kicked off her shoes and tucked her feet beneath her.

“What did he want?” she asked.

“You.”

She glanced at the man. He’d remained by the lemon tree. “Aren’t you jealous?”

Dominic tried to gauge what she wanted. “Yes and no.” He tipped his head to take in the man. “Feeling a little possessive over you makes me hot. Makes me want to test my reactions.”

She sighed, propped her elbow on the back of the couch and leaned her chin on her fist. Finally, her lips curved. Not quite a smile, but not a sneer either. He’d said the right thing.

Another man, in his midfifties maybe, joined Silver Hair; they talked, then a young blonde dressed in blue laid her head on the older guy’s shoulder. Curling his arms around her waist, he squeezed her breast without even a break in his conversation. He strummed her nipple, pinching it until she was clinging to him just as Erin had hugged Dominic’s arm out on the patio. Silver Hair let his gaze pass between the blonde and Erin, as if suggesting he’d like to give Erin the same treatment.

Erin laid her arm along the sofa back. “He’s touching her boob in front of everyone.” Her voice rose slightly on an incredulous high note. “It’s one thing out back on the patio in the dark, where it’s hard to make everything out. But here?”

“Told ya you’d get an eyeful.”

“Is that how it all starts?” She passed her tongue over her upper lip, leaving her lipstick glistening.

“Sometimes it’s slow and subtle, others it’s damn near a free-for-all.” But Dominic liked Silver Hair’s style. Appreciative rather than slimy.

“Oh my God.” This time her words were nothing more than a breath against him. He cocked his head, following her gaze.

The man and woman she’d spotted weren’t hidden well. They probably didn’t mean to hide at all and merely found the ficus by the door a convenient place for her to drop to her knees out of the flow of foot traffic. Dominic couldn’t see her face, just a rear view of a trim body, dark hair tumbling down her bare back, and the soles of her high-heeled shoes as she unzipped her partner’s slacks. Closer to forty than thirty but in regular workout shape, his canary yellow polo shirt sported a team logo on the pocket. Dominic couldn’t read which one.

Erin’s fingers bit into his arm as the kneeling woman drew out an exceptionally imposing cock, enough to make you turn in the men’s room with envy in your heart and
whoa
on your lips before you stopped yourself.

“Whoa,” she whispered, echoing his thought.

Dominic absorbed the voyeuristic gleam in her dilated eyes. Her breasts rose and fell, noticeably faster than before. He should have brought her here years ago. Then again, if he had, he would have nothing new or intriguing or mind-blowing to tempt her out of the shell she’d built around herself.