Hers for the Evening (20 page)

“Plea—” She cut off.

He glanced up. The courtesan held her chin, devouring her mouth. She arched and squirmed between them.

“Lift her dress for me,” Hunter demanded.

Kenneth tore himself away, grabbing the velvet on both sides and tugging it up over her hips. Hunter palmed her. The way she looked at him, direct, no wincing, tightened his chest. Her mouth, bare of lipstick yet plump and red from Kenneth’s kisses, turned him inside out.

“Your panties are damp,” he whispered.

“You make me wet.” Not “you and Kenneth” or “you and the courtesan,” but him. Just him.

He stroked her through the damp scrap of fabric, then raised his hand and scented her on his skin. “You smell good.”

“She tastes even better,” Kenneth said.

For a moment, it pissed him off the man had been there first. His boiled blood. Just as quickly, he ratcheted back to simmer. Without Kenneth, he wouldn’t have this at all.

Caressing her once more, he held her gaze. “Have you ever had two men before?”

She shook her head.

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“I’ve never shared with another man, either.”

Kenneth laughed wickedly. “You two don’t know what you’re missing.”

“We’re going to make you feel so fucking good,” he promised her. Her eyes darkened, pupils dilating, and her panty crotch dampened beneath his touch. “You’ve never said fuck before,” she muttered. He barked out a laugh. “Oh, I’ve said the word.”

“Not to me.”

“You’re too much of a lady for the normal use.” He moved away from her heat and hooked his thumbs in either side of the thong’s elastic. “But tonight, fuck is exactly the right word.”

“Yes,” her voice a mere breath.

This may be his only time with her. Tomorrow, she could force them back to their usual roles, coworkers, colleagues. He wanted a night she’d never forget, so she could never forget him this way, a sexual way. He slid down her body, going to his knees before her. She was gorgeous, a pretty, plump, trimmed, and suckable pussy visible through the sheer black thong.

“Hold her skirt up for me.”

“Yes, sir,” Kenneth quipped.

“I love the garter and stockings.” Hunter traced one lace top with his tongue. Her skin was fragrant with a sweet lotion, smooth and soft. He glanced up. “Do you always wear stockings and a garter belt under your business suits?”

She shook her head.

“From now on, you always will. I want to sit there knowing what’s under your clothes.”

She blinked. He could feel her wanting to fight the demand. Devon didn’t take orders, she gave them. Yet finally, she nodded. He rubbed his nose against her mound, breathing in her spicy, sexy scent. She wore the black thong over the garter belt for easy removal. He drew down the high-cut confection slowly, over her hips, her ass cheeks, then rolled it down in front to reveal the barely there thatch of trimmed blonde, then the plump lips of her sex.

“She’s got the prettiest pussy,” Kenneth said from above.

“Yes,” Hunter agreed.

Devon snorted. “A pussy isn’t pretty.”

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“You poor woman,” Kenneth groaned.

“A woman’s pussy is a beautiful thing. And yours,” Hunter added, “is one of the prettiest I’ve seen.” He wasn’t particularly adventurous, he hadn’t done a lot of screwing around, so it wasn’t as if he had hundreds to compare or that he’d ever really stopped to notice before, but Devon inspired him. He kissed her pubic bone for emphasis. “Beautiful,” he murmured.

“Whatever.” There was a note there that belied the offhand word. She was pleased.

Sliding the thong down her legs, he lifted one foot, then the other. He held the satiny scrap to his nose, memorizing her lush scent before handing the panty to Kenneth for a repeat performance. All the while, her gaze heated.

“I want to touch you first,” Hunter murmured.

“Okay.” It was clear in her low, husky voice that she wasn’t used to being told what would happen every step of the way. He wasn’t normally so vocal, yet it enhanced the pleasure, prolonged it. In case it never happened again, he wanted the night to last forever. He caressed her butt cheek with one hand and slipped his index finger between her folds. She inhaled sharply as he grazed her clit.

“She likes it,” Kenneth interpreted the sound. “She wants more.”

“Give her more,” Hunter said, concentrating on his own play. “Pinch her nipples.” He looked up to find her gaze on him, eyes ablaze with desire as Kenneth rolled and plucked the tight beads. “Visualize,” he told her in a low voice. Four hands to pleasure you, two mouths, two cocks.” He caressed slowly, gently, sliding over the nub of her clit, wetting his finger. She swallowed. “Give her some wine,” he ordered. “She’s parched.”

Kenneth grabbed a glass from the table, holding it to her lips for a long swallow of the sweet drink. Then Kenneth drank deeply, handing it to Hunter. The sensuality of sharing wasn’t lost on him as the cool wine slid down his throat.

He immediately put his tongue between her pussy lips, touching her while his mouth was still cold.

“Oh.” She gasped, ended with a moan.

Her juices were as sweet as the wine. She writhed against his mouth, and with one brief glance up, he saw the courtesan had taken control of her nipples again, working them, pinching. He’d once been told a woman’s nipples had a 135

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direct line to her clit. With her parted lips and lowered lids, now it was fact. He spread her pussy, gaining better access, and worshiped the erect bead of her clit with his lips and tongue, sucking, licking, caressing. Her body pumped and grinded, begging for more without words. Kenneth crooned to her, hot, sexy words that heightened her fervor.

She cried out. “Hunter, please, stop, I’m going to come.”

“We want you to come,” Kenneth said. “All night long.”

She tangled her fingers in Hunter’s hair and pulled. “Not yet, I’m not ready yet.”

He eased away with a last lick.

Her breath came fast and hard, and her eyes shone as she stared at him.

“It’s too fast,” she whispered, “too soon.”

He felt an accord with her. He and the courtesan were still dressed, she was the one exposed with her dress tugged up to her navel. They hadn’t even made it past the table, and here he was taking her standing up. Hunter smoothed the velvet dress down over her thighs, then rose to cup her face. Capturing her lips without asking, he forced entry inside her mouth, tasting her tongue, swirling, tangling, her body pressed tightly between his and Kenneth’s, a hard cock at her belly, an equally stiff erection at her spine. He pulled back, laced his fingers with hers, and guided her to the sofa.

“Bring the wine and cheese, Kenneth. Put it on the table.”

The guy was a courtesan; he didn’t mind being the lackey. Standing by the coffee table, Hunter ran both hands down Devon’s arms.

“Undress me.”

She blinked. She was not the CEO in the boardroom or the executive at the head of the table. She was a woman, and tonight she was his. 136

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9

DEVON HAD UNDRESSED MEN BEFORE. SHE’D JUST NEVER UNDRESSED

Hunter. She’d had men give her oral sex, really good oral sex, but they weren’t Hunter, the object of her obsession. Truthfully, she’d never been obsessed before. Never allowed it. Hunter was different, she couldn’t help herself. That’s why she’d stopped him from making her come. It was too fast. She needed time to savor, time to process, time to make sure she never forgot one single moment of it. Because it could never happen again.

“Your shirt or your pants first?” she asked.

He smiled. She was fast becoming addicted to that smile. Kenneth’s wasn’t the same, though she couldn’t pinpoint how or why.

“Take off whatever you want.” Hunter had a way of looking at her, too, his gaze penetrating deep. She’d felt it at work, yet it had so much more fire tonight.

“I want your chest.” Hair or no hair. Like Kenneth. Or not. He held his arms out. “Go for it.”

She tugged the polo shirt from his slacks. Kenneth flopped down in the armchair to watch, one of the wineglasses in his hand. The other, her lipstick prints on the rim, he’d set on the coffee table along with the fruit platter, a handful of condoms, and a bottle of lube. Kenneth had certainly come prepared, but then he was a courtesan, after all.

Devon slid her hand beneath Hunter’s shirt, her fingers making contact with his warm skin, and forgot all about the stand-in. Sliding up his sides, she pushed the material to his armpits. Oh. Oh my. A dusting of dark hair arrowed up from his navel and covered his pecs. She brushed her hand over the soft mat. Not too much, not completely bare, perfect.

“Arms up.” He did as she said, and Devon pushed the shirt off. Hunter finished the action, tossing the red polo at Kenneth. He laughed, batting it aside. It wasn’t Hunter’s laugh, she clearly heard that now. “You guys are too damn slow,” he complained. Rising, he popped the buttons down the front of his dress shirt and at the cuffs, shrugged out of it. A nice chest, but he didn’t have quite the breadth of Hunter’s. He unbuckled his belt, shoved his pants to his ankles, and toed them off along with his shoes. 137

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Kenneth was unapologetically hard, letting out a sigh of relief as if the pants had been constricting his blood flow. “That’s better.” Lounging on the sofa, legs spread, his cock jutting high, he waved a hand at them. “I’m ready for the show.” He drizzled wine on his cock, hissed in a breath, then stroked himself, a bead of pre-come oozing from his cockhead.

Her heart beat erratically. Sex permeated the air, dizzied her. She’d never watched before, never been watched.

Hunter tilted her chin toward him. “Are you sure you want him here for this?”

“Yes.” She wanted two Hunters. Her hand to his belt, she pulled it free, slipped the button on his slacks, grabbed the tab of his zipper, and tugged it down. Unlike the stand-in, Hunter wore briefs, the tighty-whiteys outlining his cock.

She felt him hold his breath as she slid her hand through the open zipper to cup his sex. “You’re huge,” she whispered.

Hunter exhaled sharply.

From the couch, the stand-in snorted.

She glanced at Kenneth. “You’re pretty darn impressive, too.”

“Thank you, my dear.” He reached down with one hand to squeeze his balls, and his cock grew another inch. The man turned masturbation into an art form. But Hunter was Michelangelo’s David.

All at once, she shoved both hands inside Hunter’s slacks and pushed everything down, going to her knees to pull off his shoes and socks as well. His clothing strewn across the carpeting, he stood gloriously naked, his cock bobbing in front of her face.

“I’m not gay or anything,” Kenneth said, “but that’s one helluva cock you’ve got there.”

For the longest moment, Hunter stood silent, staring at the other man. Then he laughed. “I guess I should say thank you.”

“I want to see Devon suck it. Watching a woman suck another man’s cock gets me fucking hot.” Kenneth no longer played his Hunter role. He’d somehow mussed his hair so that it stood on end, and without the suit, it was hard to see the resemblance she’d found so marked.

“Suck me for him,” Hunter urged, his fingers brushing the hair back from her face. A droplet of pre-come beckoned even as he said the words.

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night had been fine because she imagined it was what Hunter would have liked. She’d wanted to please him as if he were Hunter. She raised her gaze. “But I want to suck you, Hunter. I want to taste you.”

She recognized the irony of being on her knees before him. In the office, she was the boss, he was the employee. Here, their roles were completely reversed. He fisted his hand and held his cock out to her like an offering. “I’m all yours.”

Who was the taker and who was the takee, the woman on her knees or the man begging? She’d never picked up the nuances before, the power in a man wanting your mouth on him.

She understood all about power.

Licking away the drop of pre-come, she closed her eyes. “God,” she whispered, as if she’d tasted something sacred.

“More,” Hunter murmured.

She circled her tongue around the plum of his cock, then closed her lips on him and sucked. He rewarded her with a groan and another drop of sweet juice. Taking Hunter in her mouth made sucking cock a ritual. Her pleasure was in his taste, the salt of his come, the sweet of his skin, the hardness of his flesh. And in his pleasure. She glided her lips down as far as she could go. He filled her mouth, yet there was room to hold his base tightly in her hand.

“My balls.” Need edged his voice.

She cupped, rubbed, squeezed the sack gently as she sipped and sucked his cock. This was Hunter in her mouth, her hand, his taste on her tongue. That alone made her dizzy.

She let him fall free, ran her tongue down his shaft, then sucked one nut into her mouth.

“Fuck.” He groaned, fisted his fingers in her hair. She sucked the other nut. His legs trembled. His head seemed to fall back boneless on his neck, breath sharp and harsh through his nostrils. When she took him in her mouth again, he was harder, thicker, the veins throbbing. Devon thrilled to the knowledge that she’d done this to him.

“Don’t let him come yet.”

She jerked, Kenneth’s voice startling her. She’d forgotten they weren’t alone. The velvet of her cowl caressed her nipples. Hunter’s come tantalized her tongue. The sound of another man’s voice as he watched them made her wet. 139

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Hunter cupped her cheek and slowly slipped from between her lips. “Suck him for me. I want to watch while you know I’m watching.”

Her mouth watered. Hunter ordered, and she obeyed. She wanted to do anything he asked. She needed him hot, hard, and aching as she did to another what she’d given to him moments before. Her emotions about it were all jumbled, what she should feel versus what she actually felt. It should be awful to be shared, like a sex object instead of a woman. To be told what to do. A normal woman would be angry he’d tricked her. Yet everything about tonight excited her. Relaxing all the inhibitions, letting go of the need to control. The freedom not to have to make a decision. Yet feeling the power of it all, too. Such a seductive dichotomy.