Fair Game (32 page)

He grabbed the arm of a woman leaving the ladies’ room. She looked pointedly at his hand, and he dropped it. “I’m looking for my girlfriend. Dark hair about this long”—he waved his hand at shoulder length—“green eyes, wearing a black top and skirt, fishnet stockings. Did you see her in there?”

The woman, middle-aged, wore too much makeup that emphasized rather than masked her wrinkles. “No,” she said, “didn’t see her. Sorry.”

Kyle glanced back at the open doorway of Ronson’s showroom. How much time did he have? Another lady exited, and Kyle held the door before it closed. “Josie, you in there?” he called.

Dammit, where was she?

“You know”—her voice suddenly at his ear, her sweet, womanly scent filling his head—“a girl’s date shouldn’t wander off to watch nasty activities without her.”

He whirled, took her arm, propelled her down the hall to the great room by the entrance. “I thought you’d drowned in there.”

She laughed, and he stopped long enough to look down at her. Her smile was sweet, genuine, not the shell-shocked expression she’d worn when she’d run to the women’s room.

“I’m done here, let’s go,” he said.

“I’m just getting started. The girls in the restroom said there are all these themed rooms, a voyeur room, a whole bunch of stuff we haven’t seen yet.”

“I thought every room we’d been in was a voyeur room.” He pulled her to the door again, and though she had long legs, she had to skip to keep up with him. He held her close so they couldn’t be separated. “I’m ready to take you back to the hotel and fuck the hell out of you.” True. He wanted that in addition to getting her the hell out of this place before she accidentally ran into Andrew.

Forget about what he’d done onstage to her; even being seen here would be bad for her. It was one thing for Andrew to have seen him. Kyle was fully clothed and in no compromising position other than the fact that he was at a sex club. But Josie? First, a woman couldn’t get away with the same things as a man. He could simply laugh off the fact that he was a semi-pervert. Not Josie. There was a double standard. Second, Andrew would sure as hell put two and two together and realize Kyle and Josie were here
together
. He elbowed past a couple making out. No way in hell could he let Ronson see her.

Third, he now had a very large stick to hold over Ronson’s head. He’d use it to get the man off Josie’s back. Ronson had handed his own head on a platter to Kyle.

Josie, however, had other ideas. She dug her heels in when the door was in sight. “Hey. What’s up with you?”

He sure as hell wasn’t going to tell her. She’d freak. She’d call off the relationship. He couldn’t let her do that. Instead he hauled her up against him. “If I don’t fuck you within the next fifteen minutes, I will die.”

She stilled in his arms, her hands folded to his chest. She searched his face. “Do it here,” she whispered, “in front of everyone.”

His breath caught in his throat. His cock was instantly hard, throbbing, and damn near painful. He would have done it, tossed her into a room and taken her like an animal, letting everyone within eye- and earshot know that she was his and his alone. Like a ram having won her after a long, bloody battle.

Except Andrew Ronson lurked somewhere. True, he might have hightailed it home in pure panic, but Kyle couldn’t risk it.

“Not here,” he said. “I’m taking you home with me.”

She swallowed. “Home?”

As she said it, he wondered if
home
was perhaps the bigger battle. “Home,” he repeated.

“But I have the class in the morning.”

“I live near the Marina. I’ll have you back in plenty of time. Tomorrow morning,” he added, so she’d be in no doubt that she was spending the night.

“Kyle, that’s not a good—”

He put a finger to her lips. “It’s a perfect idea.” He felt the ebb and flow of people around them. “Say yes.”

After a moment that seemed to last forever, she mouthed the word he wanted. “Yes.”

Kyle didn’t hesitate a single second longer. He should have taken her to his home in the first place instead of some seedy, skanky sex club.

 

 

 

HIS house was gorgeous, with a back deck that overlooked the swan pond at the Palace of Fine Arts. In the near distance, the spires of the Golden Gate rose into the night, dark shadows against the sky.

Josie closed the sliding glass door to the outside, her reflection suddenly stark in front of her.

What the hell was she doing here?

She’d allowed him to make her come in front of a crowd, even suggested he do her right there in the club, yet the confines of his home were far more frightening. Intimate. The flat-panel TV was much larger than anything she could afford. Then again, she wasn’t home much to watch. His chrome-and-glass tables and black leather furniture looked fairly new, or it never got used. That could be the reason there wasn’t a single smudge or ring on the glass, a damn near impossible feat for a man. Okay, it was impossible for her, too.

Really, what
was
she doing here? It was midnight. She was usually in bed long before.

Kyle returned to the living room with a bottle of white wine and two glasses. “Cheers,” he said after pouring and handing her the sweet stuff. A Riesling.

“So, what about the fucking?” It would be easier to get it over and done. No fuss, no muss, then he could take her back to the hotel. She didn’t spend the night with a man.

“You’re spoiling the mood.” He sat on the sofa, patting the spot beside him.

She moved once again to the glass door. From the street she’d be clearly visible with the lights behind her. What she saw reflected, though, was a woman in dark, sexy clothing with wide, terrified eyes.

Until Kyle flipped off the lamps and plunged her into darkness.

“There, the view’s better.” His voice was suddenly behind her, close; then his breath sweet with wine; finally his body heat.

Brushing aside the hair at her nape, he laid his lips on her. Oh God, she simply wanted to lean into him, feel his body against hers, his lips cool with wine on her, smell him, bury her fingers in his hair as she held his mouth to her throat. Before, sex had always been about orgasm and satisfaction.

The last time she’d allowed herself to wallow in the texture of a man’s skin, the scrape of his five o’clock shadow on her thighs, the warmth of his breath, his taste, his scent . . . the last time she’d allowed herself those pleasures, she’d gotten screwed. There was a helluva difference between fucking and getting screwed.

Her emotions about Kyle were escalating. Just the fact that she
had
emotions about him was terrifying. She’d been experiencing them for weeks now.

“You need to take me back to the hotel,” she said, yet her voice was soft and dreamy.

“I’ll take you to bed instead.”

They hadn’t done it in either of their beds. Doing it in
his
bed was a bad idea. “Listen, either fuck me now or take me back to the hotel. The wine is making me tired.” And totally bitchy. Really, she hated being a bitch, but she felt him dragging her under.

His lips still on her neck, he slid both hands down her sides. Obviously he’d set his wine down somewhere along the way. She sipped hers and tried not to shiver at his touch.

“You’re always rushing,” he finally murmured, then he was bunching her skirt in his fingers and raising it. She was naked beneath. In front of the window, he trailed around to her mound, then tunneled one finger between her pussy lips and found her clitoris.

They were too close to the window, even in the dark. They’d be seen if someone was out walking their dog a final time that night. Yet she reached back, winding her arm around his neck and running her fingers through his hair. “Stop that.”

She knew damn well he wouldn’t.

“I haven’t come yet tonight.” He paused. “And you came hard.”

She hated to admit how shattering that climax had been. “I can give you a quick blow job if you want.”

He laughed. Nothing seemed to make him angry enough to take her back to the hotel. Instead he worked her clitoris, and her body writhed against him of its own volition. “Come to bed,” he urged. “A blow job’s not enough. I need to fuck you.”

“No. If you want to do me, do it here.” In front of the sliding glass door was better than the intimacy of the bedroom. Better? No, easier. Somehow safer.

His finger stilled, his caresses stopped. “In the bed, I can make you scream. Standing up, you won’t come as hard.” He simply wanted her in the bed, that was all. As if it were some sort of coup, one up on her.

“It’s kinkier in front of the window.” And less intimate for her. “That will make better orgasms for both of us.”

His cock caressed the crease of her butt. He needed to come. A man could always be led around by his dick.

“Fuck me here and now,” she said, “or don’t do it at all. I couldn’t care less.” Her pussy ached for a major explosion, but her heart couldn’t take it unless it was on her terms.

Kyle stepped back. She waited for the shush of his button fly. Nothing. Her skin cooled where he’d been touching her. In the window reflection, she couldn’t discern his gaze behind her.

“I’m going to bed. You want to join me, I’d like it. If not, there’s the couch, and I’ll take you back in the morning.”

Damn him. She turned on him. “What is so important about your fucking bed?”

He held out his hand. “Nothing. I simply want you in it.”

“You’d rather sleep with me than fuck me?”

“I’d rather do both, but if all I get to do is sleep, that works for me.”

She drew in a breath. The man made her want to scream. “I let you finger me in front of a pack of howling strangers. I don’t know what the hell else you want from me.”

“You, in my bed.”

“No.”

“Why?” He tipped his head like a dog searching for the source of an enticing sound.

“Because. I don’t spend the night with guys. They want to own you in the morning.” There, that was innocuous enough. It didn’t come close to revealing any of the turmoil inside her. It wasn’t that he’d want to own her, but that she might actually want to be owned by him.
That
was scary. She hadn’t felt anything like it in too many years to count, and even then, the memory was bad.

His eyes glittered in the moonlight falling through the window. “I don’t want to own you.”

Josie stripped her Lycra top over her head. “Prove it. Do me on your living room floor, then take me back to my hotel.”

Still, silent, Kyle watched as she undid her skirt and let it drop to the floor. She stood determined, naked but for stockings and shoes.

Christ, he wanted her badly. He’d been deep in her body only once, and while all the other sexual things they’d done were hot and orgasmic, he’d meant it from his gut that he’d die if he didn’t get inside her. His cock was so hard, it pulsed, his need so great, he ached with it.

Yet she was
still
fighting him. If he gave in to her now, she would always win.

Then again, if he let her go without fucking her here, he had the sense to realize he’d never have her again. They’d be over.

“Turn around and get on your hands and knees,” he told her, even as he searched in his back pocket for the condoms he’d carried tonight.

She smiled, knowing she’d won this round, and did exactly as he told her to.

He wanted Josie to remember what she’d done to him at the hot tubs. She’d taken him as they faced the mirror. He would do the same, though their reflections were wavery and indistinct in the door glass.

Going down on his knees behind her, he stroked his hand from her ass straight forward to her clit. “You’re so damn wet.”

She wriggled back against him, then glanced over her shoulder. “I could be more so.”

He played her, slipped a finger inside her, then across her clit and back to the sensitive bit of skin just by her ass. “You wanna come first or when my cock’s in you?”

“Both.”

“Greedy bitch.” He meant it as compliment.

She smiled, accepting it as such. “I’m a woman who knows what she wants.”

“Yes, you are.” Right now she thought she had his guts wrapped around her little finger.

Taking her hand, he put her index finger to her clit. “Work that little button while I get out of these clothes.”

She moaned. “Whatever you say.” Her breathing quickened.

He loved watching her masturbate. She had no inhibitions about it whatsoever. “But hell, don’t come without me.”

She laughed, sultry, sexy, ending on a gasp. Condom pack in hand, he shucked his jeans.

“Ooh, ooh, you better hurry,” she cooed.

He sent his clothes flying across the living room. “You’ll be punished if you don’t wait.” Moments later, he wore only the latex.

“Ooh, I’m so afraid.”

He loved her laughter laced with heat and a moan. Then he climbed over her, his cock between her thighs, bobbing against her fingers as she stroked herself. Christ, it would have been so fucking good without the condom between them, but he knew she needed the security for now.

“You damn well better be afraid,” he said against her ear, keeping his tone light. Then he pinched both nipples hard, the way she loved.

She rewarded him with a sexy rotation of her hips against him. “If you punish me like that, I can’t help but be naughty.”

This was how he loved her best, when she was laughing, playful, and sexier than hell. “If you rubbed my cock against your clit, that would definitely be naughty.”

She clasped him close, sliding him through all her moisture, readying them both. He slapped her hip.

“Hey.”

“You need to be punished.” She needed to be his in any way he could have her.

“Not having this big fat cock inside me is punishment.” Yet she rode him with her clit just the same.