For The Wicked (Fantasy Heights) (10 page)

Showoff. All that warm skin and taut muscle, and the erection straining against the flat front of his trousers. Everything inside of her clenched at the sight. Her hungry eyes tracked him as he circled around behind her out of sight.

A moment later she felt him. He pressed his fingers to her clit and then began to run his palm over her slippery slit. Up and down, he rubbed over her anus and pussy, stroking the nerves there into fiery alert.

She melted with it, aching for him to penetrate her any way he saw fit. She caught herself before she could voice a plea. Thomas knew what he wanted. Tonight, she would give it to him by simply staying silent and doing exactly as he said.

He walked a few steps away then returned to drizzle oil over her buttocks. The next several minutes as he spread the oil over her buttocks, between them, over and around her anus before lavishing intense attention to her inner thighs were an exercise in fierce self-control. To stay silent, she bit her bottom lip.

His hands were mesmerizing. Firm strokes and squeezes, sometimes designed to relax, others to enflame. She wanted so desperately to touch him, to make him feel the same way. But she was not allowed to touch, only to look as he walked around the side of the pommel once more. Then he finally slipped his trousers and boxers off and stood before her, nude.

Her insides began to roast as Thomas poured more oil into his palm and began to rub it onto his cock. He closed his hand around his shaft and pulled, wetting himself, squeezing his tip before travelling back down to lube his balls as well.

Apparently she liked to watch him masturbate as much as she liked to be watched herself. Her pussy clenched down as Thomas stroked up his shaft once more. When his hand tightened around his glans and she saw the tip of him darken, her involuntary fluttery sigh felt like a nuke between her legs.

Thomas watched her, studying her reaction, repeating the squeezing motion and letting out his own involuntary, shaky breath. She could watch him do that all day, but she felt a charge of purely carnal delight as he stopped what he was doing. He moved around the crossbeam trapping her arm to approach.

She lifted her head slightly and extended her neck, eager to take him into her mouth. He placed one hand on her head and held his shaft with the other. And he was not gentle. When she stuck her tongue out to take him in deep, he didn’t hesitate to push, bringing himself full into the back of her throat. She gagged, but she was experienced enough now to stay relaxed and enjoy the feel of that solid, swollen flesh as he sought the tight fit at the back of her mouth. He moved slowly, making it so much easier for her to take him in. The rasp of his increasingly erratic breaths made it very clear that he felt good.

Again, he stopped what he was doing before she was ready. She kept silent, submissive, as he circled the pommel to get to his knees behind her. He used his hands to pull her labia apart and he very slowly, very gently, began to suck her clit.

Wildfire. All of her internal muscles tightened yet again as the pleasure swelled and spread, warming her from the inside out. The gentle suckling was maddening. Too gentle. She wanted to grind against him, but when she involuntarily tensed a bit to one side, Thomas took his mouth away and dealt her a smack to the right buttock that very nearly sent her over the edge. The sting of impact ignited that crazy pulsating inside.

“Not yet,” Thomas ordered. “You don’t come until I tell you.”

Which of course made it damned near impossible to fight off that splendid, aching tension. If she dared move, she would have writhed in frustration.

He walked away then, relief and torment in one action. She breathed. Closed her eyes and by force of will, corralled the chemical chaos under some semblance of control.

Not for long. Thomas returned with freshly oiled hands. Without warning, he drove two fingers into her cunt.

She cried out at the overpowering sensation, only to have it multiplied exponentially by a second sharp smack. That sting and surprise in concert with the intrusion and forceful pump made her squeeze her eyes shut and clench her teeth in a desperate grapple for control.

She’d thought that was the hardest fight imaginable until Thomas began to knead her left buttock. He stroked and clenched, letting his thumb trace along her slit while with his other hand, he pumped and twisted his fingers.

Oh, God. She could feel the blood rushing for his hand, vaporizing right out of her veins. Her body began to move in time with him, instinctively, reflexively.

Even worse was Thomas’s response. She heard him make a strained sound, and then suddenly he withdrew his fingers. Instead, he pressed the tip of his cock against her slit, poised to invade.

She couldn’t help a high-pitched note of encouragement, one small, wordless plea.

His first thrust brought him in, nearly to the hilt. Her body strained against the restraints, tensing at the sudden and complete penetration. He was so wide, and he drove himself so deep, the hot tip of him straining in as far as she could take him.

When his hands grasped onto her hips and he began to pump, she checked out. There was only so much she could fend off. The chemical pleasure he’d spent so long building up inside her could have only one intense, magnificent conclusion. Her body took over and held itself in suspension until the first sign that Thomas was allowing his own arousal to peak. There was always a quake to his motions, a gathering of power, and her body sensed it and tripped like a detonator.

The orgasm this time seized muscles from her knees all the way up her back. Outward ripples, like warm honey flowing through her flesh, left her breathless. Brainless. Utterly and completely sated. Somewhere in all that glorious clenching and straining, Thomas succumbed. He bent forward, forehead resting at the back of her neck, hands still clutching her hips.

Every so often, he would hum out a content, replete sound. It took a while before either of them was ready to move. They retreated to their bedroom, where she slept so hard that she only murmured a sleepy goodbye when Thomas kissed her shoulder before leaving for work.

Amanda drove to Fantasy Heights an hour later. Jennifer’s portfolio sat beside her on the passenger seat. She would be a fool not to express interest. Of course, when Fiona had said the company was in need of a villain, her choice of words had been apt. Whoever went in there to excise what ailed that company would have to swing a mean axe.

Josh, she suspected, might actually be relieved if she took a different job. She would have to ask him. As for Thomas, there was no telling how he might react if Jennifer made her an offer. The company was headquartered less than half an hour way. It wasn’t as if she’d have to move, but it would change things if she no longer worked at the resort.

Her thoughts veered toward Wade, wondering if he’d mentioned Jennifer and Fiona’s visit to Thomas. Once things calmed down over Jerod’s bad habit of passing notes in class, she supposed Thomas would let her know.

Still, something nagged at her while she made her way from the parking lot to the business office. Something about Wade, and how he was making a choice to include Thomas in his personal life. And that led naturally to how things had been in the beginning between her and Thomas, and how he’d been so tetchy about the line between his personal and professional life. The line had been breached that night in the Hall, when she’d found out he was FBI. They had blurred that line more and more ever since.

Josh’s attitude about the office manager job pursued her behind the desk. She thought about what he’d said, about how he’d wanted her to take the job because she liked it, not because she felt obligated.

“God,” she grumbled. She sat down and let the future extend before her. She could see it all now: once Steph returned, they would gift her another boring job to keep her semi-satisfied. Things would continue to get more and more tense with Josh because he felt guilty knowing she felt obligated to help out the company. Thomas would continue to stand back and pretend not to have an opinion. Heaven forbid he step on what he felt was Josh’s territory.

She rubbed her forehead and sighed. Personal and professional. Maybe the time had come to just quit Fantasy Heights altogether, because if it came down to a choice between keeping her professional obligations to Josh and Thomas or her personal ones, she would always choose personal. And that choice might come upon them quite soon if Josh continued to withdraw the way he’d been doing lately.

Feeling scrambled with a side of uneasy, she hit the coffee harder than usual. She left Fiona a message to call when she got a chance, but then successfully managed to lose herself in a neck-deep pile of submitted departmental budgets.

No one reminded her of the troubles until Thomas sent a text. No trace of Jerod. Still no trace of Yvette, though they suspected she was in the area. He promised to let her know if there were any developments, and she was to call him immediately should she have any further thoughts about walls or fingers.

She smiled at his message, feeling a hundred times better. She debated calling just to stir him up, but with a performance looming, she would have to buckle down if she wanted her desk cleared.

Wardrobe was a much different place that evening. Far fewer bodies milling around. The department was practically deserted by the time Amanda made it through Kara’s domain. Tonight’s ‘costume’ was a black halter dress with a draped neckline. It swooped so low, one incautious move and side-boob would turn into a full-on peep show. No jewelry, just the dress and a pair of comfortable black kitten heels.

Eric drove her to Prescott House. Five other people awaited her. They milled around the elegant salon with its teakwood walls and gilt mirrors. Dimmed lights, parquet floors and chaise seating made her imagination run a little mad even before a waiter pressed a champagne flute into her hand.

She greeted Phillip, who would be her companion for the night. Somewhere nearby waited Josh and Helen, filling in as observers. The clients were two married couples. Together, they had developed this script with some help from creative. They hoped this game of sexual follow the leader would help them break through a barrier they couldn’t seem to get past on their own.

The four clients were all in their early thirties. The men wore suits. The women wore dresses similar to Amanda’s: draped fabric, and very easy to remove. Everyone seemed friendly enough, but there was a marked disquiet in the air. A couple of times over drinks and appetizers Amanda was half afraid one or more of them might bolt. One of the women seemed especially fidgety, and another of the men had gone from pacing to stalking the perimeter like a nervous wolf.

Afraid the fantasy might fail, Amanda caught Phillip’s eye. The script said they should carry on normally for another twenty minutes or so, but if they didn’t do something, these people would not get the result they wanted.

Phillip seemed to feel a similar urgency to get things moving. He nodded at her, and then picked up a remote to turn up the sound system. The reedy, sentimental strains of Glenn Miller’s
Moonlight Serenade
whispered to life.

Phillip met her in an open part of the room, and she was once again struck by how Phillip could singe her into an aroused state without much effort. He’d done it to her once in the tunnels, pulling her robe belt tight. He settled a hand against her bare back and held her other with their fingers entwined at their sides, moving in a slow, simple dance-step to the music.

She felt it everywhere when his mouth brushed her earlobe. “Thomas and Joshua are lucky I’m not thirty years younger.”

Amanda felt herself blush, and let out a gentle peal of laughter. “Ease up on the charm. Helen carries a gun, and I’d much rather stay on her good side.”

Phillip made a valiant effort to sound rebuffed. “And I thought we were so discrete.”

“You are. I just notice things.”

“A dangerous skill, around here. If only I had a bit more of it myself.”

She squeezed his hand. He may have recovered physically from the Janos drugs’ side effects, but he was still deep in mourning for Derek and Nicole. The sting was even worse, knowing that Nicole, someone he’d cared for deeply, had been drugging him for months.

The clients took their cue and joined them, dancing close and intimate, and finally calming down. Phillip let more time pass and plied their guests with another glass of champagne to sustain a warm glow, leading them into another dance to get the alcohol moving through their systems.

Once their guests were pink-cheeked and relaxed, Philip drew Amanda to the side where both couples could easily see her. Quite close, in case anyone wanted to touch. Phillip reached inside the front of her dress to caress her right breast. Playful at first, and then with more pressure, squeezing and stroking before closing his fingers over her nipple and giving it a nice long tug.

She let out a sound of pure arousal. The others were watching them, and her nipple was sending out wave after wave of sultry, enthusiastic approval.

After a moment, Phillip let go. He circled around behind her. Then both his hands slid inside the draped black fabric to caress and knead and tease. She leaned against him to enjoy the sensual havoc he roused. Had they been alone, sure, she would have enjoyed how it felt to have her breasts worked over this way, but with the others watching nervously, everything felt heightened.

She reached up behind her head to pull apart the snaps holding her dress up. They gave way with three quiet pops. She let the front of the dress fall. Now the others could see Phillip’s hands and her breasts, and the way he rolled her nipples into hot red buds.

The dress continued its descent, gravity pulling the soft fabric over her hips and to the floor. She felt Phillip’s scratchy chin against her neck, his breath steaming her skin. She felt a melting sensation begin in her shoulders and spread slowly downward in concert with the path taken by one of the other men’s eyes.

He was the older of the two male clients. Also, apparently, the braver as he took the champagne glass from his wife’s hand and set it on a nearby table. After a swift kiss, he drew the wife’s dress straps down and lowered his head to nip her skin where the strap had just been.