Bad Brides (10 page)

Tamra glanced up at the clock:
only twenty minutes to go! I can’t wait!
Strolling through the huge bedroom, over the white soft-as-snow alpaca rugs, she relished again the fact
that all of this space was hers. That no one would or could come in without her say-so, even her beloved daughter. She adored Brianna Jade more than life itself, would put BJ’s welfare over
her own in a heartbeat, but she had shared a bedroom with her daughter ever since she was born, until Tamra moved into Ken’s California King bed. Ken, bless him, had been uxorious, a word he
had taught her; he’d wanted to fall asleep every night with his heavy, old-man, liver-spotted arm across the slender, chiffon-and-lace-clad waist of his miracle younger wife, a woman who had
the body of an expensive hooker and the brain of a CEO.

But boy, that arm was real heavy sometimes,
Tamra thought now.
I’d lie awake and listen to him snore and think how lucky I was to be with him, and still sometimes it was all I
could do to wait till I was a hundred per cent sure he wouldn’t wake up before I slid out from under and ran down to the water’s edge and walked into the ocean naked and just stood
there, staring at the stars and the lights of the boats on the water, telling myself to suck it up, that it wouldn’t be for ever.

She smiled, remembering.

And then sometimes, God help me, I’d go back upstairs, pull back the covers, suck Ken’s dick till it got hard and climb on top of him to give him another ride to weaken his heart
just that little bit more, tip him over to the other side. Till finally, bless him, he got there.

He was a real good husband, Ken. He gave me everything I wanted, left it all to me with no strings attached, and all he asked was that I stay faithful to him. He said I’d have plenty
of time to fool around after he was gone.

And boy, was he ever right!

In the bathroom that Tamra preferred, because it overlooked the gardens behind the house, Marta had done everything she had been asked to do in the email. A bottle of Cristal rested in one of
the chilled wine coolers, a bottle of Ketel One vodka in the other: Tamra had had the coolers built into a travertine slab beside the curved, upholstered window seat, just as she’d added them
to the specs for her Bentley. She liked her drink chilled and within easy access at all times. Frosted glasses, fresh from the freezer, were lined up in the wine fridge next to the coolers: on a
silver plate lay a range of Charbonnel et Walker Marc de Champagne truffles, pink, milk and dark, displayed around a mound of hulled strawberries.

Just a couple more things to do . . .

From one of the opaque glass-fronted cupboards, Tamra extracted a sheet of black slate and a small suede case, both of which she placed on the marble next to the wine coolers. Then she pulled
the Ketel One from its silver sheath, poured herself a shot, and sank it in one swift, practised go, staring at herself in the huge oval mirror above the sink. The ice-cold spirit burnt deliciously
down the back of her throat; it would be the first of many.

Me time, dammit all! My daughter’s finally settled and out of the house, my own life can start. Wow, I’ve waited a long time for this . . .

Sliding open a drawer beneath the sink, she studied its contents before pulling out a ribbed purple finger-stall vibrator.
Start small and build up. We’ve got a way to go tonight.
In a couple of seconds, it was between her parted legs; she leant forward, gripping the marble edge of the sink surround with one hand, the other working on herself, never taking her eyes off her
face and upper body, reflected back at her by the large mirror, refracted behind her by several others set around the bathroom to give her views of every angle. Her red-gold hair, piled on top of
her head, her big dark eyes with their thick lashes, her parted lips, her perfect teeth, her perfect smooth pale golden skin . . .

Tamra ate very carefully, worked out like a maniac with a whole series of personal trainers; now, the mini-vibrator buzzing against her, she watched her boobs bounce, her eyes grow darker, her
lips part even further, turned on by her own beauty. As she came, she still watched herself gasp and moan and shove her clit even harder against her finger, relishing that she could bring herself
to orgasm so easily, and that she loved the sight of herself in the throes.

I’m starring in my own porno,
she thought with great satisfaction
. Fuck it, why watch anyone else when you can turn yourself on like this?

But even a star needs supporting actors . . .

Right on time, she heard the elevator rising to the third floor. Marta had let in Tamra’s guests, given them directions to their destination, and would now be retreating to the staff flat
at the far end of the house which she shared with her husband Teodor. Tamra straightened up, taking a look at her face, now glowing with the flush of orgasm, her cheeks dewy and pink, her lips
moist; crossing to the coolers again, she poured icy vodka into three shot glasses, lined them up and stood there, waiting. The jacuzzi was filled and bubbling softly, fragranced with rose and
chypre, underwater chromatherapy lights set to a deep pink which bathed the water with a deliciously suggestive colour. Neither of the two young men who could be heard crossing the bedroom,
accurately directed by a very discreet Marta, had been here before, and, experienced as they were, their eyes widened at the sight of their surroundings, the sheer lavishness of the setting, the
exquisite scent in the air and, of course, their client herself, naked and American-smooth, not a hair on her body apart from the glorious mass of red-gold hair pinned above a face that was as
breathtaking as her figure.

‘Hello, boys,’ Tamra purred, slipping her dark gaze up and down their bodies, very pleased to notice that they had both reacted instantly to the sight of her. ‘This is our
playroom. Come over here and do a shot with me before we get started.’

Eagerly, the young men crossed the room and took the glasses she was holding; Tamra clinked hers with theirs in a toast, then downed her vodka in one, giving them the cue to follow suit.

‘It’s Bruno and Oliver, right?’ she said, looking from one to the other.

Bruno was dark-skinned, with striking light green eyes and full, sensual lips; Oliver taller and much fairer, his features Germanic, his blond hair clubbed at the back of his neck in a short
ponytail. Both young men were as handsome as the models that the escort site promised and, side by side, they presented an exotically delicious contrast. Oliver wore a tailored suit, Bruno a
slim-cut shirt and equally fitted trousers. Tamra could have taken them both out to dinner, to the opera, been seen anywhere in public with them without anyone realizing that both young men were
pay-to-play. They were absolutely five-star escorts all the way. Lady Margaret had recommended this agency to Tamra, and, as with so many things, Lady Margaret had been, as she would put it with a
wink at the double entendre, ‘absolutely bang on’.

‘That’s right, um—’ Bruno began.

‘Call me Tamra,’ she said, smiling at them both with blinding force. ‘No formality here, boys. Now, I’m sure you don’t want to get those lovely clothes wet. Go into
the bedroom, take ’em off and come back in here looking pleased to see me, okay?’

‘No problem at
all
, Tamra!’ Oliver said fervently. ‘Oh, and Diane said to bring you this . . .’

From his jacket pocket he pulled a bulging baggie of presieved cocaine, no rocks or lumps in it, powdery as icing sugar. Diane, who ran the escort agency, was more than happy to provide extras
for trusted clients.

‘Would you like to—’

‘We’ll save that for after Round One,’ Tamra said, winking at them so seductively that Bruno swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple swelling along with the already prominent
bulge in his trousers. ‘No sense rushing things. We’ve got plenty of time for me to do lines off both your cocks and then watch you lick each other clean . . .’

Both Bruno and Oliver turned and almost ran to the bedroom, so eager were they to strip naked; they practically jostled each other in the doorway. Tamra did one more shot as she listened to the
sounds of zips being unfastened, shoes kicked off, near-jumping from one foot to another as they pulled their underwear off. The anticipation was making her so wet she was almost dripping on the
marble floor. After all those years of having to grab sex where she could, a quick fling here and there on the road in the rare times Brianna Jade was safely looked after elsewhere, and then the
time in purdah with Ken, the joy of being able to have sex pretty much whenever she wanted, with young men who looked like underwear models, was simply dazzling. Tamra had been asked out by every
eligible bachelor over thirty in London and quite a lot of non-bachelors as well, but no way was she ready to date seriously, not at all. Boyfriends tied you down, and the idea of getting married
again nearly brought her out in hives. She was much too busy being the merry widow.

‘Oh
yeah
,’ she said contentedly as Bruno and Oliver re-entered the bathroom, both stark naked and sporting the large erections she had already seen on the
password-protected, security-encoded section of Diane’s website. Both young men were almost completely shaved, what they called in the US ‘slip-and-slide’, and trimmed and waxed
pubic hair on men made their cocks look even bigger. Bruno’s was longer, Oliver’s wider.
Decisions, decisions . . .

Tamra let out another long sigh of absolute bliss, spread her arms wide along the marble shelf behind her, and opened her legs.

‘You,’ she said, pointing at Bruno, ‘come here and eat me out. Then you get a turn,’ she said to Oliver. ‘The one who makes me come hardest gets to fuck me
first.’

She judged Bruno the winner, but it was a close-run thing, and she could barely even get a word out once both young men had given it their best shot. Instead she pointed at Bruno, her eyes
filmed with pleasure, her lips parted and moist.

Professional as he was, Oliver couldn’t help groaning in disappointment at having lost the competition. But a few minutes later, the party having moved to the bathtub, the noises he was
making were considerably more satisfied. Bubbles pumped up from the jacuzzi’s powerful jets, surrounding Tamra, who was holding onto the edge of the bath for dear life, and Bruno, behind her,
gripping her slippery hips. His cock thrust in and out of her as Tamra simultaneously sucked off Oliver, who was standing on the marble floor next to the jacuzzi, his feet planted wide, his moans
of pleasure audible even over the motor of the whirlpool bath.

Unfortunately, Oliver was being too gentle with her. That was the thing with some escorts – they’d hang back a bit out of professional courtesy. You had to show them how you liked
it. Managing to balance as Bruno’s cock slammed in and out of her, Tamra let go of the bath, grabbed Oliver’s hands and dragged them to the back of her head, still sucking his cock with
everything she had. Oliver got it straight away, twisted his hands in her hair, started fucking her mouth hard, and Bruno picked up the rhythm, his hands digging into her now as he pounded away
behind her, Tamra’s muffled moans rising to an absolute scream of pleasure that came out through her nose, because her lips were sealed so tightly around Oliver’s bobbing, throbbing,
girthy cock—

‘Ah
fuck
!
Fuck
yes!’ Oliver screamed too as he dragged his cock from Tamra’s mouth just in time, Tamra rearing back to take the explosion of come over her
perfect tits, water and hot young male spunk dripping from her hard pointed nipples; behind her, Bruno dragged his out too, shooting into the condom. He was a grunter, not a yeller. The sounds he
made as his orgasm hit were right from the back of his throat, loud and wordless. Tamra watched Oliver, her eyes bright and wide: the sight of his cock spasming, his hands now white-knuckled on the
bath again to keep him from falling, his hips rocking as he squirted his last drops on her wet skin, was so erotic that she licked her lips in sheer pleasure. She loved watching guys come, loved
watching them lose it completely; that was why women liked gay male porn, of course. If you were into guys, that was where you saw them really going for it, giving it, taking it, shooting their
loads, their faces convulsed, their lips open as they gasped and groaned . . .

‘Nice going, guys,’ she said, approvingly. ‘Time for some coke, some liquor and Round Two.’

Oliver, who couldn’t be more than twenty-three, was already recovered enough for his cock to bob in excitement at the mention of Round Two: he held out a hand to steady Tamra as she
climbed out of the bath, white bubbles mounding on the water-slick curves of her body.

‘What did you have in mind for Round Two?’ he asked, his eyes sparkling.

Tamra reached up and kissed him, pressing her wet body against his dry one, rubbing her crotch into his, feeling his cock curl awake. She drove her tongue deeply into his mouth, making him take
it just as his cock had filled hers just now, her hands behind his head, removing the elastic from his hair, twisting her fingers through it, pulling it deliberately, hurting him just enough,
hearing him moan in excitement and stiffen even more.

‘You want me to fuck you with a strap-on?’ she said, pulling back, still holding his head, her lips touching his as she spoke. ‘Or you want me to tell Bruno to fuck you while
you eat me out?’

‘Oh
man,’
Oliver breathed. ‘I want
both
.’

Bruno, out of the jacuzzi too, pressed up behind Tamra; he wasn’t that tall, and his cock and balls squashed into the split of her buttocks, the cock, stiffening again, pressing into her
arse. He bit and kissed the back of her neck and she writhed in excitement; his wide lips were so soft, his teeth so deliciously sharp on her wet skin, she was ready to go again right now, needed a
cock inside her now,
now
—

Bending over, she grabbed Oliver around the waist for balance, widening her legs.