Chapter 11
Okay, it was a club. And if the bowls of condoms on various tables meant anything, it was a sex club. Summer had fantasized about places like this, classy rather than sleazy, sexy rather than raunchy.
Right now she didn’t see any sex going on, but Knox said things would get jumping later.
“What are the rules she talked about?” Summer wanted to know.
“Things like don’t hassle the other guests, that no means no, and always use condoms.”
She couldn’t help a smile with a glance at the condom bowls. “They certainly make that rule easy to follow.”
As they climbed the stairs to the landing, they presented a sexy picture in the enormous mirror reflecting the hallway below. He wore a suit, not a tux, but he was no less elegant than the man who’d greeted them, striking with his dark hair.
But the host didn’t make her melt the way Knox did when he spoke in her ear.
The dress she’d chosen, which she’d bought today, was exactly what he’d ordered, elegant and sexy, a little flirty, but not terribly overt.
At least not from the front. But Knox’s fingers on the small of her back heated her body as he guided her.
From the back, her dress was exactly what he hadn’t ordered, open and seductive.
She shivered at the thought of everything the night could bring.
“Cold?” Knox asked.
She was burning up, but didn’t tell him.
The less crowded hallway he led her down drew only a few patrons or clients, or whatever you called people attending a sex club.
Elegantly dressed, tastefully manicured, mostly older, especially the men—although she spotted a couple in their thirties—they smelled of money and sex.
The younger woman wore a skintight bodysuit that flared just below the knees like something from a sixties movie, while her partner had rolled up the sleeves of his tux jacket.
Elegantly furnished, the mansion’s hallways contained secluded alcoves couples could duck into. The plush carpeting caressed her feet in her high heels. Classy artwork hung on the dark wood-paneled walls.
But what she didn’t see was sex. They passed a room with couches and people mingling, drinking socially.
Filled with tasteful furniture, classy paintings on the walls, elegant lighting and carpets, it seemed like an after-work cocktail party.
Like something out of a fantasy she’d made up for Paul.
Yet this seemed so tame. Until she saw a man slip his hand under the skirt of the woman standing next to him.
And over there, a woman pushed her partner to his knees and lifted her dress.
Naked below the waist, she pulled him close and wrapped one leg around his shoulders, bracing herself while he licked her.
Then Summer realized sex was everywhere. Her skin heated, her hands went clammy, and her next breath seemed to sear her throat.
Through another door, on a workout mat, two men wearing only loincloths faced each other, ready to wrestle. Until the wrestling turned into sucking, each taking the other’s cock in a sixty-nine position.
She flushed in a hot wave across her skin, suddenly so hot she turned lightheaded.
The sex was rampant if she looked long enough, groping and sucking, hand jobs and back door.
She whispered to Knox, “This is actually a sex club?” It was a stupid question, of course it was.
His hand still sizzling at the base of her spine, Knox murmured close to her ear, as if they were indulging in phone sex, “That’s exactly what this is. And I recall the sex club fantasy you were telling your little fuck buddy the night Cupid’s arrow shot through my heart.”
She laughed out loud, catching the gaze of an older man who, despite the fact that he had a woman on his arm, raked Summer with his gaze, as if he could eat her up right then.
But Knox was making her laugh. He could make her do anything.
“Cupid’s arrow?” A smile played on her lips.
With that hot hand on her back, he directed her through a wide doorway. “Don’t underestimate your allure, my dear.”
She stifled a giggle. “You sound like an old-fashioned rake in a Regency romance novel.” Then she asked, “Have you been here before?”
“No.” His warm breath heated her skin. “But I’ve heard talk about it. And I chose this place for you.”
This latest room was set up like a cocktail bar, with tables and chairs and even a dance floor.
At a few of the tables, couples snuggled, while others shuffled on the dance floor to the rhythm of a slow number.
Instead of taking the table, Knox rounded the edge of the dance floor and headed to the sofa nestled in an alcove.
He sat, pulling her down beside him. Clicking his champagne flute with hers, he sipped before setting it on the small table in front of them.
Summer, however, needed a big gulp of champagne.
Just as in the cocktail room they’d passed, she began to see the subtle signs of sexual congress.
A woman’s dance partner sneaked a hand down her thigh and up her dress.
Two women kissed open-mouthed, their fingers traveling over each other, breasts, bottoms, thighs, between the legs.
A woman switched between two men seated before her, sucking one, then the other, licking from tip to base as if one was chocolate ice cream and the other vanilla.
Across the dance floor, an older man, his hair white, went to his knees before his partner’s chair and spread her legs.
He looked up longingly before his head disappeared into her lap, obviously licking her if her gasp of pleasure meant anything.
It all seemed exactly like the tales she spun for Paul. And for Knox.
Summer flushed with need and desire, imagining it was Knox between her legs, his tongue lapping at her.
“You certainly seem to know your way around for never having been here,” she said, trying to keep her tone dry and unaffected.
“There are pictures on the website,” Knox answered smoothly. “And I thought this spot would be a perfect place for us to start.”
She felt as if her eyes had widened to the size of extra-large buttons. “They have a website?”
He was grinning at her. “Yes, but you have to know the exact URL. It doesn’t come up in any internet searches.”
“And how do you know the URL?”
He was still grinning, still teasing. “A buddy of mine gave it to me.”
She pursed her lips. “I’m not sure I believe you.”
Instead of trying to reassure her, he asked, “How would you feel if you learned I’ve been here before?”
She answered quickly, “It wouldn’t bother me. It’s not like we’re in a relationship. This is just sex. And I was just curious.”
He lifted her hand to his lips, kissed her fingers. And suddenly tonight was so different, because now he touched her openly. It wasn’t like last Saturday night on the dance floor, when she couldn’t see him, when he could have been anyone. Now he touched her smoothly, easily, naturally.
And she needed it.
“I’ve never been here before,” he admitted. “I wanted to bring you to this place in order to fulfill your fantasies.”
“My fantasies?” She put a hand to her chest, right over the keyhole, and realized how warm—damn near overheated—her skin felt.
He shrugged slightly. “Your fantasies are always about being watched. Here you can play the exhibitionist all you want.”
She was silent for a long moment, her mind whirling. “Are people going to watch me with you?” She paused, a flush spreading to her core. “Or are you going to watch me with someone else?”
He held her hand, playing with her fingers. “I thought about your fantasy from that first night. Where you’re with a tall, dark-haired executive while your partner watched you with him.”
His words set her skin on fire. She remembered the fantasy, where she’d inserted Knox into it. He was the man who’d taken her while her husband watched. And yes, this club was right out of her fantasy. As if he’d conjured it especially for her.
“But I think you’d like to watch other people for a little while before you decide what you want. See that couple over there?”
She let her gaze follow his pointed finger to a man and woman, perhaps fifty, maybe even fifty-five, older than she and Knox at any rate. They held hands, heads close together.
He leaned close, his warm breath a tantalizing whisper across her ear. “Watch them. They’re planning right now.”
She looked at him. “How do you know?”
He shook his head, just a small movement.
“It’s a sense. They’re looking for the right man.
” Then he smiled, ran a finger down her cheek.
“It could be a man she wants to blow, and her husband wants to watch. Then again, it could be a man for him, a cocksucker, and he wants her to watch. I don’t know yet. We’ll have to see.”
His theories set a flame growing inside her. It was so close to the story she’d told Paul that night. Her ex-husband playing the willing participant, wanting to see her pleasure and getting his rocks off at the same time.
They didn’t have long to wait. The woman beckoned over a lean, sexy, silver-haired man. Taking the chair next to hers, he stretched out his arm along the back of her seat, barely touching her, but the statement was out there, that he would do whatever she wanted.
“What did I tell you?” Knox murmured against her hair, sending a tendril of heat spilling through her.
As she watched, mesmerized, the husband—she saw the ring on his finger—leaned forward, doing all the talking as if he were negotiating.
The sexy silver fox listened, watched the woman, and then, almost before Summer was ready, he pushed his chair back from the table, angling it toward her.
He unbuttoned his jacket, then put his hand at the back of the woman’s head and pulled her down between his knees. Summer’s line of sight was perfect.
Knox trailed his fingers down her arm, along her thigh to the top of her knee, sliding her dress up, his touch hot on her inner thigh.