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  He could taste them, right here. His driver knew better by now than to jerk the door open.

  “What are we doing here? Hmm. Each other? Maybe?”

  The hopeful note in her voice made his lips twitch, while the words stoked his desire. “Tatiana.”

  She busied herself tidying her hair, disguising the havoc his fingers had wreaked. “Whatever you want us to do.”

  “No. Spell it out for me. I want to be certain.”

  The dark excitement in her gaze made his nerve endings sizzle. “Want to invite a couple of other people to play with us?”

  He licked his suddenly dry lips. “Akira.”

  “And her friend Remy.” She shook her head. “I don’t know him well, but Akira assures me he’s trustworthy. And, well, Akira might act like a loudmouth, but no one would ever hear anything from her. It would be as discreet as we can get.” Her lashes swept down. “We fantasize about an audience and watching other people fuck. I thought maybe we can try it. In a safe space. With safe people.”

  His voice was hoarse. “You don’t have to do this for me, you know. I’m content with only you.”

  “I know.” Her throat worked. That lovely, graceful throat that had swallowed his cock whole only minutes ago. “I want this. I want to do it for you, but I want to do it for me, too, because it’s hot as hell. But it only works if we’re both on board, so if you’re not interested, you need to be honest.”

  Not interested? Was she insane? The thought of making those whispered fantasies a reality made him want to weep with joy.

  He could drown himself in her pleasure, surround himself with hedonism and sex. Surround himself with Tatiana and forget the real world and the uncertain future.

  How had she known? This was exactly what he needed tonight. “Don’t be absurd. I’m more than interested.” He brought her hand to his lips and brushed a kiss over the deceptively delicate palm. “What’s on the table? Watching? Fucking? Touching?” They’d teased each other with that fantasy before—another man or woman touching her, making her come for him.

  “Yes.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Yes…”

  “Yes. All of it. Watching them and having them watch us. As far as touching…we only fuck each other, but I’d be on board with some fondling or kissing or licking. I’ll stop it if I decide it’s too much or I don’t like it. I don’t know Remy well enough to let him touch me. But…I’m comfortable with Akira.” She cleared her throat. “The house parties. You know.”

  His head spun, the blood having rushed to his cock from her matter-of-fact recitation of her boundaries. “Oh, honey. How did I end up with you?”

  “Just lucky, I guess.”

  A smile crossed his face. “That I am.”

  Chapter Seven

  Tatiana cast Wyatt a glance as she led him inside the club. “Do you want something to drink?” It was crowded but not packed. There were a few patrons milling around, the DJ playing low-key music that would transition within the next hour or so to something louder and wilder.

  “I’m good,” he said, pitching his voice louder to be heard over the music. “Where are we going?”

  “To the VIP area.”

  “Hmm.”

  Her skin was tingling with both excitement and nerves. This was big, bigger than anything they’d done before. She had been fairly certain he’d be on board, but relief had made her lightheaded when he’d immediately agreed.

  He wasn’t simply pretending to be into it, either. Tatiana would be able to tell if he was faking. The lines around his eyes had relaxed, the tension that had been strumming through him diminished. A shadow lingered, but she had effectively distracted him from whatever worries he had brought home from work.

  A BJ was a pretty good cure for stress, but impending sex games could really blast through it.

  Tatiana nodded to a bouncer who stood guard at a hallway. The other man stepped aside, and they went down the short hall until they reached a staircase. The music became more muted as they climbed.

  Wyatt gripped her hand tightly as they came to the top of the stairs. An abandoned dance floor stood in the center of the room, surrounded by opulent leather chairs and sofas.

  The room appeared empty, at first glance, and Tatiana entertained a brief worry that she and Akira had gotten their wires crossed.

  “There,” Wyatt said, his voice so low it was barely a breath. “On the sofa.”

  A shadow moved in the recesses of the dimly lit room. Tatiana peered into the darkness. As her eyes adjusted, she made out a couple locked in a passionate kiss. Akira and Remy had not waited for them.

  Emotions swept over her, excitement and nervousness creating a giddy mix. She grabbed Wyatt’s arm when he would have taken a step. He turned his head, the blue lighting casting his face into shadow. “I want to make sure, one last time, that you’re cool with this.”

  The corner of his lip curled up. “I can sign a consent form, if you like.”

  Tatiana glanced at the couch, and arousal slid through her. “You and I, we’ve never done anything like this before.” Whispers and thoughts and the danger of getting caught. Those were their favorite things. “I want to be certain you won’t look at me any differently tomorrow morning.”

  He considered her for a brief moment before slipping his hand under her hair. He used the grip on her neck to pull her forward and delivered a quick, hard kiss. “There is nothing you can ever do that would make me look at you any differently. I’ll never shame you for anything you do with your body. I won’t let you shame yourself, either. We like what we like.” He gave her the slow, bad-boy smile that had melted her heart at sixteen. “And right now, what I’d like is for both of us to enjoy ourselves. However that might happen.”

  “In that case…” She drew her finger up his chest. “Can you do me one more little favor?”

  “What’s that?”

  She leaned in closer and licked his firm lower lip. “Pretend this was your idea,” she whispered. “Make me want it. Make me crave it.”

  The flare of his nostrils was the only sign she had that he heard. He drew back and laced his hand with hers, and started walking toward Akira and Remy.

  Slipping into the role the way some women might slip into a silk robe, she deliberately made her steps hesitant, so he had to tug her forward. She stumbled once or twice, but he never faltered in his long-legged strides.

  He came to a stop in front of the couple, who were still engrossed in each other. Supremely confident, he sank into a huge leather armchair. Awkward, she hovered until he urged her to sit on his lap.

  A bottle of champagne sat chilling in an ice bucket on the side table. Wyatt poured two glasses and handed her one. She accepted it automatically and sipped from the glass, mindful of Wyatt’s cock pressing against her hip and his finger lazily tracing a pattern on her arm.

  A handful of feet separated the sofa and the chair they sat in. There was nowhere for her to look but straight ahead at Akira and the man she had drafted into tonight’s games. When Tatiana had spoken with her on the phone earlier in the day, Akira had assured her Remy was sweet and uninhibited, and best of all, discreet. Tatiana didn’t want their exciting night turning into a PR mess for Wyatt.

  Tatiana wasn’t sure how tight-lipped Remy was, but he was hot. His face looked like it belonged on a European model, and he was lean and toned under his expensive navy suit. When he shifted, his bald head shined under the light directly above them. His eyes flashed open, and she caught a hint of ice blue.

  He was no Wyatt, she added loyally. But nothing to sneeze at.

  Akira was…Akira. Glamorous as usual, she wore a short, silver, sequined dress that showed off her magnificent legs and breasts.

  Tatiana took a bracing sip of champagne, the bubbles tickling her throat. Remy’s long fingers stroked up Akira’s leg, until he was flirting with the hem of her dress.

  Tatiana didn't realize she was holding her breath until she let it out in a rush when the man slid the d
ress up. He broke his lips away from hers to say, “Open your legs.”

  Akira opened them a sliver, and he urged them farther apart, until her pussy was bared to them. Waxed and plump, her lips were red and flushed with excitement.

  “She's pretty,” Wyatt whispered in her ear. “But not as pretty as you.”

  Tatiana couldn't respond, not when Akira was moaning as Remy sank two fingers inside her. He thrust them in and out, and her hips moved, following the movement. He pulled his fingers out teasingly, letting Tatiana and Wyatt see the moisture on them. “You're so wet, baby,” he murmured to the woman.

  Akira whimpered, still ignoring the others in the room. “It's all for you. Fuck me, please.”

  Remy shushed her. “You know it's not that easy.”

  Tatiana knocked back another gulp of her champagne. If she stretched her hand out, she could touch the couple. She could finger Akira herself, or press her hand over Remy’s cock. But that wasn't what she wanted in her deepest, darkest fantasy.

  Remy pulled at the woman's dress, yanking it down to bare her firm, round breasts and tight light-brown nipples. How many times had Wyatt done that to her, making her dress little more than a useless belt, eager to get to her most erogenous zones?

  Remy cradled Akira’s breast. The two of them might have decided not to acknowledge their spectators, but by the way Remy lifted and presented the flesh in his hand, there was no doubt he was playing to his audience. His head dropped down and he sucked, his cheeks hollowing with every pull. The music downstairs masked Akira’s sharp cry of pleasure.

  Wyatt’s hand brushed against her knee, and Tatiana shuddered as if she were the one whose breasts were being pleasured. “Having fun yet? Watching them?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  “But that’s not all you want.”

  He squeezed her thigh when she remained silent. Not silent because she was ashamed. Silent because she was too busy tracking the flush spreading over Akira’s chest and neck as Remy scraped his teeth repeatedly over her nipples, stretching the flesh with each pull.

  “No,” she replied, her voice hoarse.

  “Tell me what you want.”

  She shut her eyes so she could focus on his words. “I want them to watch.”

  “Watch what?”

  “Watch you fucking me.” The words tumbled out. “I want them to watch you fucking me, and see me loving it, everything you do to me. I want them to see me.”

  Remy bit Akira’s nipple harder and glanced at Tatiana, a small smile curling his full lips. “I see you, sweetheart. It would be hard not to.”

  The man was devastating when he smiled.

  Wyatt nipped her ear, as if chastising her. “Tell me how you want it. I’ll give you anything you want.” He paused. “Except another man touching you.”

  Brilliant. Wyatt was spinning her hesitancy about Remy into his own decree. No wonder she loved him. “Yes, sir.”

  “Killjoy,” Remy muttered. He shot Tatiana a bright grin and casually licked Akira’s nipple.

  Akira barely flicked a glance their way. Instead, she ran her hand up Remy's leg and squeezed. “Remy.” There was a world of demand behind the word.

  Wyatt shifted behind her, and his fingers found the tab of her zipper. Her dress gave way, loosening around her chest. Wyatt slipped the straps over her shoulders, working the material down until she was topless.

  Akira finally acknowledged their presence, her gaze appraising Tatiana's breasts. Only her breasts. The woman's gaze didn't go any higher than that. She was objectifying her, turning her into a sexual prop.

  Tatiana loved it. It left her free to treat Remy and Akira the same way.

  Wyatt licked her earlobe. He brought his fingers to her mouth and stroked them over the lower lip. She allowed one pass, two, but she was hungry for him, and she opened her mouth and sucked in his forefinger. He inserted a second finger and thrust deep enough to trigger her gag reflex. She let it come, aware he liked the tightening of her throat on any part of his body.

  His fingers left her mouth, and she inhaled as he dragged the wet tips down to her nipple, circling the areola before clamping down on the tip. He pinched her hard, because that was how she liked it, and he knew her body better than his own. The touch shot straight from her breasts to her groin, and she squirmed in his lap.

  Wyatt gave a low laugh. “You're getting antsy, aren't you?”

  Sex and sin were a living breathing entity in the room. Clothes were coming off, inhibitions cast aside. Of course she was antsy.

  “Poor thing,” he crooned.

  Remy slid his hand behind Akira's neck and released the tie of her halter top. The dress fell to her waist, mimicking Tatiana's state of undress. “Up,” he commanded her softly.

  Akira stood, and with a practiced shimmy of her hips, her dress fell to the ground, leaving her in a silver thong.

  It was more than what Tatiana wore under her dress.

  Akira's eyes briefly met hers, and Tatiana was both reassured and excited by the hot arousal in them. She didn't want her and Wyatt to be the only ones enjoying themselves. That would hardly be fair, given how hard they were going to be getting off on this. Tonight, and many nights after, when it was a memory.

  Remy slowly unbuckled his belt. “What did I tell you?”

  The other woman was one of the strongest people Tatiana had ever met, wealthy and independent. But her voice was timid when she spoke. “Don't wear anything underneath my dress. Sir.”

  The cold dominant, the reluctant submissive. Tatiana's favorite kink, the one Wyatt catered to so perfectly. Wyatt slid his hand in her hair and pulled her head back until her neck was arched. His teeth closed on her skin, hard enough to bruise.

  “You disobeyed me,” Remy said, his tone a weak imitation of Wyatt's at his bossiest.

  Akira’s lashes fluttered. “I did.”

  “Get on your knees.”

  Akira turned to face away from them and descended to her knees, the act graceful. Two dimples flashed above the cheeks of her ass. Her hands worked at the man's fly, and she pulled out his thick, long penis. Tatiana only got a single good look as he donned a condom, before Akira opened her mouth wide and sank down on it.

  Remy shoved his hand in her hair and pushed her down farther. “That's it,” he rasped. “Take it deeper.”

  Akira did, sucking more of it in until Tatiana was truly impressed. She considered herself a cock-sucking artist, and she didn't think she had anything on her friend.

  The hand fondling her breast squeezed extra hard, and Tatiana was brought back to her own man and her own game. “You like Remy, don't you? You find him attractive?” Wyatt crooned.

  Ah, the moody lover. Classic.

  When she didn't answer quickly enough, he raised his hand and spanked her tit, the sharp slap against her nipple bringing a rush of blood to the surface. She gasped. “I do.”

  “Did you see his cock?”

  Remy watched her with eyes gone vague from lust.

  “Yes.”

  “Did you like it?” Wyatt spanked her other tit, and she moaned.

  “I did.”

  His next spank was harder.

  “Not as much as I like yours,” she added.

  “Who gave him to you?”

  “You did,” she lied.

  “Who gives you everything you need?”

  Tatiana ground her ass back against his cock, annoyed that two layers of fabric separated them. “You do.”

  “Fucking right.” He dipped his thumbs inside her dress and shoved it off. She raised her ass to help him, and then she was sitting gloriously naked.

  Some long-dormant remnant of modesty flashed through her, told her that it was wrong to be nude above a public place, wrong to get excited over an audience.

  Wyatt’s hands slid up her legs. Remy groaned. The second of shyness vanished as her adrenaline spiked.

  “Fuck, she's pretty,” Remy bit out. His blue eyes shifted between Tatiana and the woman going down
on him with such excited fervor.

  Wyatt made a self-satisfied noise. He stroked her thigh with the lightest of touches. “Open your legs. Give him a good look.”

  She inched them wider. She wanted Remy to see, wanted to slam her legs open wide. Look what my man is going to get. You'll never touch it.

  But that would ruin all the fun.

  “Wider.”

  She feigned reluctance. “I don't know, Wyatt.”

  His voice hardened. “I want you to open your legs.”

  Her lower lip pouted. “I don't want to.”

  His hand in her hair wrenched tighter, until her neck was arched at an angle that was just shy of painful. She whimpered, delighted.

  “Whose body is this?”

  “Yours.”

  “Mine. My tits.” He squeezed them hard, and then his hands traveled downward until they were both on her inner thighs. He wrenched her legs open. He arranged her so her feet were flat on the couch on either side of him, her cunt spread wide open.

  His hand cupped protectively over her pussy. “My pussy.”

  She whimpered and made a halfhearted attempt to close her legs. “Please.”

  “Please what? I want them to see it. See what a slut you are for my cock. Aren’t you?”

  “Huh?” The excitement and lust was overloading her system, making it difficult to think or verbalize coherently.

  “Aren’t you a slut for my cock?” He settled her against his chest, the fine fabric of his shirt a smooth contrast to her heated back.

  “Yes.”

  “Say it.”

  “I'm a slut for your—for you.” Not just his cock. For his hands, his mouth, his everything.

  His lips curved against the skin of her neck. “You always have been.”

  “I always have been.” She paused, reciting the next verb tense in her mind, too nervous to say it.

  I always will be.

  “Good girl.”

  He stroked his hand down her arm, stopping when he reached her gold bracelet. “I do love this piece, you know.” He pulled the bracelet off and made quick work of bringing her hands behind her. With a couple of twists, the metal bound her wrists.