Zach had done it again.
I knew that it was slightly irrational, since I was the one who had stormed out of his office, but I had hoped that he would show up at my tiny new apartment, or come by my desk in the accounting office, or even send me a text message. Something to tell me that he was sorry, that it had all been a mistake, and that he wanted to let me in—truly let me in—to his life.
As the days passed by, five and a half of them, to be precise, I came to understand that an overture from Zach just wasn’t going to happen. The billionaire was nothing if not stubborn and set in his incredibly eccentric ways.
Crushed as I was, I knew that I needed to pick up the shattered pieces and try to start living my life again. The problem with that plan was that life without Zach in it seemed fuzzy and dull, lacking something important.
That missing element was Zach. But as long as he ran hot and cold, with those mercurial mood swings giving me whiplash, I didn’t see that I had a choice.
I remembered the very first time we had met, in the small restaurant in Cambria. He had done it even then, coming on to me only to walk away.
It was exhausting.
Listlessly, I tapped away on my computer late in the afternoon of the sixth day. On day five, in a moment of personal crisis, I had stopped into a small clothing store on my way home from work after a sexy, crimson wraparound blouse in the window had caught my eye. That blouse was now wrapped around my own ample curves, and I felt uncomfortable and conspicuous in the unabashedly sexy top. I missed my habitual, severe black.
I had noticed Tony eyeing me from the corner of my sight line all day. I couldn’t be mad, since the cleavage spilling from my shirt invited attention that I didn’t particularly want.
Well, that wasn’t entirely true. I wanted it, but the one man I wanted it from wasn’t prepared to give it to me.
The clock told me that it was four thirty. Only another half an hour, and then I could escape the office building, where everything reminded me of Zach.
Right. I could escape the office, only to go home and think about him endlessly, reminders or not.
Get a grip, Devon. Grinding my teeth so hard that I could hear the noise of the friction, I chugged a sip of the ice-cold coffee that had been sitting on my desk since that morning and turned back to my computer with what I hoped was renewed focus. When I wasn’t miserable and mooning over Zachariah St. Brenton, I actually really liked my job, and I didn’t want to lose it, not now that I had signed a lease on a place of my own. It was a tiny studio apartment, and the monthly rent was double what I had paid in Sacramento.
But it was not a cheap motel room. No, it was all mine.
As I set my coffee cup down, I caught the eye of Mrs. Gallagher. When I had walked in that morning she had taken one look at my red blouse, sighed heavily, and walked away. Since then, I had caught her staring at me with that concerned look etched in thick lines between her eyes—by now I knew that I wasn’t imagining it. She had even been very nearly pleasant in our interactions.
Her strange attitude hadn’t helped the sense that my life was off balance. Even now, as she pursed her lips in my direction, I wanted to scream. Though there was no way that she could know just how far my relationship with Zach had gone, she clearly suspected and disapproved, even as she felt pity toward me.
I didn’t want anyone feeling pity for me. If I couldn’t be in a relationship with Zach, pale as things seemed in the aftermath of our intense chemistry, I needed to move on with my life. And I didn’t want to lose sight of what I had gained since moving to San Francisco.
I looked at the clock. Twenty minutes. Just a small fraction of my workday, but at the moment they felt like an eternity.
I gave up on work. It just wasn’t going to happen. Instead I opened my e-mail browser and, after rubbing my temples with tense fingers, I set out to do what I had been trying to do for days.
I needed to get some sense of closure. I needed to have my say. Though, after our final encounter, I wasn’t sure if he would actually read my e-mail or not, but at least I would have tried.
From: Reid, Devon [d.reid.accounting@phyrefly.com]
Sent: Friday, 4:53 PM
To: St. Brenton, Zachariah [z.stb.ceo@phyrefly.com]
Subject: Closure
Zach,
I’ll keep this brief . . . I don’t know if you will even read it or not. If you are reading, then I want you to know that I’m sorry. I didn’t meet with Tom to upset you. I certainly didn’t invite him here, but since he showed up I thought it was a good opportunity to tell him the things that I didn’t when I left. This was something that I needed to do for myself.
I’m also sorry that I can’t be who you need me to be. I know you think that I should be afraid of you, but I’m truly not. I am afraid of how I feel when you push me away, though, and since you won’t let me in, then there doesn’t seem to be much hope. I know that this isn’t easy for you, either, and I know that that kind of trust takes time. I wish . . . I don’t actually know what I wish anymore.
Thank you for everything you have done for me. You helped me uncover parts of myself that I didn’t even know existed. I have to find the strength now to continue that journey on my own.
I wish you all the best, Zach. I’d say that I’d like us to be friends, but I think it would be too painful for me to be around you at all and not be able to be with you, so I will stop at that.
Devon
I swallowed past the thick lump in my throat as I hesitated, then clicked the Send icon on my screen before I could lose my nerve. My nose prickled and my eyes were damp—it really felt like it was over now.
The rational part of me knew that it wasn’t normal, feeling this upset over a man that I had known for less than a month. I tried to tell myself that my behavior was obsessive and not a little bit crazy.
It didn’t matter. I was devastated.
Looking at the clock yet again, I saw that it was after five. Most of my colleagues had rushed out the door minutes earlier, eager to shed their suit jackets and hit Friday night happy hour at the bar across the street.
I was going to go home, have a good cry, and then get back to trying to pull myself back together.
“Good night, Miss Devon Reid.” Startled, I stopped in my tracks momentarily when Mrs. Gallagher’s voice cut through my thoughts. I peered into her office, perplexed, and hoped that my eyes weren’t overly red from unshed tears.
“Good night, Mrs. Gallagher.” The woman never bid a hello or a farewell to any of her employees, and though her expression was stern as I clutched my worn leather purse to my chest, I was thoroughly unnerved by the gesture.
“I hope you’re feeling better by Monday morning.” The woman lowered her reading glasses to the tip of her nose and peered at me over the top of them. “This cold that’s going around is brutal. If you’re not well by then, take Monday off. But I will expect you back in shape first thing Tuesday morning.”
Mrs. Gallagher shoved her glasses back up her nose and looked down at her work, effectively dismissing me. I blinked at her in surprise before hurrying away to the bank of elevators.
The woman was astute, and knew damn well that I didn’t have a cold. The kind gesture of a long weekend to pull my act together was unexpected and incredibly strange.
Her underlying message, however, had been perfectly clear: Get over him and get your life back together.
It was exactly the kick in the pants that I needed, though I suspected she wouldn’t appreciate it if I told her that, for the persona that she demonstrated in the office was not of the warm and fuzzy variety. Sniffling, I straightened my spine, inhaled deeply, and tried to get myself together.
My life wasn’t entirely occupied by Zachariah St. Brenton. I could be happy without him.
Maybe if I told myself that enough times, it would be true.
The elevator pinged and then opened, and I did my best to shove all thoughts of myself bound on its floor during my last encounter with Zach from my mind. Making sure to keep my chin up, I stepped in and turned to press the button for the lobby.
I choked on my own breath when I saw Zach standing by the control panel, appearing calm and in control. He looked at me and nodded, stepping back to make space for me.
After a long, flustered moment in which my self-control was shattered, I nodded in return, then faced the elevator door and tried to calm my racing heart.
This was to be expected. He was my boss. It was a big building, but we were bound to see each other from time to time. If I wanted to stay at this job, it was something that I would have to accept.
The silence was like a weight on my shoulders as we descended through the building. My mind tormented me with images of our last elevator ride together, and I couldn’t help but wonder if he thought of it, too. As I chased the mental image of him binding my hands with my own lace underwear, I looked up to see his reflection in the polished chrome of the door, and I scowled to myself. It wasn’t fair that he should look so mouthwatering when I felt—and looked—so ragged. His suit was charcoal today, and beneath it was a pale gray shirt with subtle stripes. He had removed his tie and unbuttoned the top button, and despite all of the lectures to myself, I found that I wanted nothing more than to place my lips against the enticing triangle of skin that that one small button revealed.
The elevator had almost reached the lobby, and I was congratulating myself on being strong, when he spoke.
“You said that you’re not afraid of me. Is that true?” Startled, I turned to look at him sharply. He was still staring straight ahead, his expression a mask of control.
“Of course it is.” Unsure of the situation, I twisted the strap of my purse in fingers that were trembling. “Whatever else you make me feel, fear isn’t any part of it.”
Zach nodded, then subsided into silence. It wasn’t until the elevator hit the ground floor and the doors slid open that he pressed his hand to my elbow and drew me to his side.
A burst of fireworks exploded inside of me, starting at the small patch of skin where his fingers rested and sparking outward. My breath caught in my throat as I looked up at him, uncertainty and an undeniable need all twisted up together.
“I would like you to come somewhere with me.” Holding out his hand, he caught the elevator doors before they were able to close. My heart pounding a staccato rhythm in my chest, I stepped out of the confined space, then turned to face him, my expression serious.
“Why?” By this point I had nothing to lose by asking. “Why now?”
Zach’s eyes clouded, but I continued to stare directly into them, relentless. I needed him to give me something, anything, before I could step into the insanity that was our relationship again.
He seemed to be on the verge of refusing, and my heart sank. I reminded myself that Zachariah St. Brenton was not a man who was accustomed to explaining himself.
Then he spoke, and his words were guarded. It was almost as if he wanted to make sure that he said the right thing, and I felt a trill of hope swelling where it had no business to.
“I’m not ready to give you the things that you really need. I might never be. But I find that I can’t stay away from you.” His brutal honesty broke my heart in two before seaming it back up again. He was trying, trying so hard, and how could I refuse that?
“What do you think I need that you can’t provide?” I measured my words carefully. “Because I’m an adult, Zach, and I’m walking into this with my eyes open. I want you. I want all of you.”
Without warning, he tugged me into his arms, fisted his hands in my hair, and kissed me until I was breathless. My world narrowed until it was entirely focused on him. This was what I had been missing for six days. The force of his desire for me had kept me awake at night longing to touch him again. When Zach released me, I stumbled back, then pressed my fingers to my lips that were now swollen from his kiss.
“I’m a selfish bastard, and I want you. I can’t share my past with you, because I can’t even deal with it myself. But if you trust me, I can take you into my life as it is now.”
The expression on his face was unabashedly sensual, and I saw that the front of his dress pants had tented during our kiss. I was hot, twitchy all over, and wanted nothing more than to lose myself in him.
Eyes wide, I nodded quickly before I could lose my nerve.
“Devon, be sure.” He drew me to him again roughly, pressing his hardening cock into the soft swell of my belly. I trembled against him.
“Be sure that you’re ready to go deeper.”
• • •
The ride in Zach’s car, with Charles at the wheel, passed in a bright blur. The only things I was entirely conscious of were the sensation of my hand clasped tightly in Zach’s, and the heat of his thigh as it pressed intimately against my own.
We pulled up in front of a brick building. Small and dark, it had a slightly gothic look to the exterior, and it took a moment before I located a sign painted the color of chocolate.
“Lush?” I turned to Zach, suddenly self-conscious. “I’m not dressed for a club, Zach.”
His eyes burned a path over the skin that my low-cut red blouse had left bare, and I shifted uncomfortably, my body overly warm, as if he had touched me.
“You always look lovely.” He took my hand and helped me from the car as Charles opened the door. “And this isn’t a typical club.”
I raised my eyebrows in question, but he didn’t respond, just placed his hand at the small of my back and led me to the door of the building.
“St. Brenton.” The man holding some kind of digital device at the door scrolled down the screen, his eyes widening when he found what he was looking for. I wondered if there was a note beside Zach’s name that said something like “temperamental billionaire: treat with utmost caution.”
Before I could ponder it further, we were passed off to a woman, some sort of hostess, I thought. She was a statuesque beauty with jet-black hair that fell in a sleek sheet to her ass, and the low-cut back of her dress rode nearly as low. Though her manner was utterly professional, I couldn’t miss the up-and-down stare that she directed at Zach, nor the blatant hunger in her gaze as she did so.
He seemed oblivious, but he was an intelligent man. He had to be fully aware of it. I just didn’t know how he felt about the attention that he received everywhere he went.
Insecurity plagued me, though I reminded myself over and over that he was there with me. I didn’t comment on my thoughts, either, because I didn’t think that he would take them well.
The gorgeous woman led us into a theater. It was a venue unlike anything I had ever seen before. I gaped as we were led to a private balcony, one of fifteen that I could count, all arranged in two neat semicircles before a small stage.
Each balcony was like a private dining room, though the walls extended only waist high to allow a view of the stage. Each contained a small table draped in a heavy black cloth, and on top of the table was a lush arrangement of deep, wine-colored roses, an array of fat white candles, and a silver bucket holding a pale green bottle.
As we sat, Zach gestured to the bottle. “This is the Stella d’Or that I requested?”
The woman nodded, her mouth pouting wetly. I was more than a little bit impressed with the brand of wine—Stella d’Or was high-end, and I had never tried it. I gulped as I thought of the cost, but was distracted when Zach sat on the curved leather loveseat that was pulled up to the table in lieu of regular chairs.
I wasn’t sure what was about to happen, but anticipation hung in the air like a heavy velvet curtain. As Miss Come-Hither-Stare popped the cork on what turned out to be a beautiful Bordeaux the color of berries and poured Zach and me each a glass, I watched others being shown in to the theater and seated in their own balconies.
All were couples, with the exception of one group of three, who nonetheless seemed to all be together in a way that my mind couldn’t quite comprehend. Clothing ran the gamut from a tuxedo and evening gown to a tiny red lace teddy and matching satin shortie robe.
“Zach, what is this place?” Though he shook his head to tell me that he wasn’t going to tell, a small smile played over the corners of his lips—a small, wicked smile.
I took a large sip of my expensive wine, trying to wet my suddenly dry throat.
“That will be all, Marguerite. Thank you.” Zach turned his attention entirely toward me, and I could see that our hostess didn’t care for being dismissed. A small frown marred her features, and she stepped in closer to Zach, as if trying to insinuate herself between us.
A jade green streak of jealousy flashed before my eyes, and before I could think it through, I leaned in close and placed my hand flat on his chest, right over his heart. I looked up at the woman with wide eyes, as if startled to find that she was still there.
“Yes?” My voice was sweet, but even I could hear the venom underneath. I was surprised at myself. I’d never been the jealous type.
The woman whom Zach had called Marguerite scowled at the placement of my hand on Zach’s chest.
“If you require anything else, all you have to do is press the buzzer.” She gestured to a small device that sat on our table. “Anything that you require . . . anything at all . . . and I will come to serve you.”
I blinked up at her, certain that I had misunderstood the double meaning layering her words. She smirked back at me, and I saw red.
“All that we require is to be left alone.” Zach’s words had me focusing my full attention on him, and I barely noticed the hostess leaving, because pleasant strands of sexual desire were humming merrily over my skin.
Once we were alone he pulled me onto his lap, arranging my legs so that I was straddling him. I gasped and looked around as my face flushed carmine.
No one seemed to be paying much attention to us, and if they were, they weren’t overly shocked at our behavior. I, however, squirmed as Zach palmed my breast, squeezing the flesh gently and nibbling at my ear.
“I think I like it when you get jealous.” My breath caught in my throat as heat from his touch spread throughout my skin and down to my core. Though his hands slid down to catch me at my waist, he didn’t hold me in place, so I slid off of his lap and onto my own bottom.
“What the hell was that?” Though no one else seemed to care, I was mortified. “We’re in public!”
Zach didn’t seem the least bit ruffled, and I felt compelled to play the good angel.
“What if there was a photographer here? They could have gotten a really dreadful picture right now!” I closed my eyes, not able to even imagine what would happen to my life at work if a picture of me straddling the CEO made the rounds at the office.
Zach seemed nonplussed. “Cameras aren’t allowed in here. They’re very strict about it, and you’ll soon see why.” He snaked an arm around my waist and pulled me close, though he kept his touch chaste—if any touch from him could be considered so. “And if a picture was taken that I didn’t want made public, I’m fortunate enough to have enough money to bury it.”
He spoke as if having that much money was just a mundane fact of life, and I supposed that for him it was. It made my head hurt.
I buried my nose in my glass of wine to change the subject.
“Do you like it?” Though he had a glass of his own, Zach took mine once I had finished sipping. The casual intimacy of the gesture made me hope for things that I knew I shouldn’t.
My pulse stuttered when, instead of tasting wine from my glass, he leaned in and pressed a heated kiss to my yielding lips, sampling the wine from my tongue.
“Mmm.” I trembled as he caught me with that hot stare as he eased back. “It tastes much better this way.”
“It—it’s wonderful.” My throat was dry with need as I agreed. I wasn’t by any means a connoisseur, but I knew that the wine was richly layered and that its flavors mingled seductively on my tongue. “You didn’t have to go to such trouble, though.”
Zach shrugged and handed me back my glass. “Stella d’Or is owned by a friend of mine. I like to support his business, but I would purchase it even if it wasn’t his. It’s exceptional wine.”
At that moment the lights in the house began to dim. Before the theater went black, Zach turned to me, and traces of the levity that he had displayed over the past few minutes were gone.
“I said that I wanted to share a part of my world with you,” he began, and my mind immediately ran in a million different directions. “I brought you here tonight to open your mind to possibilities. I hope that you’re going to enjoy what we’re about to see. That said, if you’re uncomfortable and want to leave, just tell me and we’ll go.” There was no dominance in his tone, and he wasn’t ordering me.
It made me want to enjoy whatever it was that we were about to see, though his words made me nervous. I thought of a thousand possibilities as we waited for the lights to come back up—was it a risqué play? A little-known singer songwriter that Zach was a fan of? Was he strangely into opera?
The lights came up all at once, illuminating two figures on a stark stage. My heart stuttered in my chest, and I clutched at Zach as I realized what we were about to see.
We were at a live sex show.
• • •
“Zach!” I felt as though I should be horrified, but I wasn’t . . . at all.
The sight of the couple on stage, both of them completely naked, aroused me beyond belief.
“Devon, do you remember what I once told you? Forget about what you think you should feel, and just immerse yourself in the experience.” I fidgeted in my seat, unable to keep my eyes on the couple for more than a few seconds at a time.
I already knew what I really felt, and it was raw and dirty and not what was expected of a good girl.
I wrestled with myself, mortally uncomfortable. When Zach caught my chin in his hand and turned my face to look at him, I looked down, feeling ashamed.
“Devon.” With the hand not holding my chin, he tucked a wisp of my ponytail behind my ear. When I dared to look up at him, I found no pretense in his expression or demeanor.
“There’s nothing wrong with wanting what you want. What I want is to share something with you that I think will bring us both pleasure. The choice is simple. If you want to stay, we will. If you don’t, we’ll leave. Just tell me.”
There was no judgment in his tone, no coercion, though I figured that if he had brought me here, he wanted to stay, wanted to experience this with me. And even if I hadn’t wanted to please him, which I did, I found that a big part of me wanted to stay.
It felt deviant, and it felt wrong. It was so different from anything I’d experienced before. But, as Zach had pointed out, there was nothing wrong with wanting what I wanted. So I licked my lips with the tip of my tongue to moisten them, and, staring down at my hands, whispered, “I want to stay.”
I felt a shudder pass through Zach’s body, and an answering heat in my own. I found it strangely reassuring.
No matter the difficulties that we faced in the strange and intense relationship that we shared, there was something primal in each of us that responded to the other. It was indefinable and thrilling, and in that moment, comforting.
Zach was teaching me there was nothing wrong with being who I was—and the person I was discovering I was would sit back and enjoy a live sex show.
On the stage, the couple kissed softly. Though they were both fully nude, it was not what I expected. It was sweet. It was romantic.
I cast a sidelong glance at Zach. He was watching calmly, and I took my cue from him.
The woman threaded her hands through the man’s hair. He ran his palms over her back and down, caressing the cheeks of her ass. She moaned, the sound echoing loudly throughout the theater.
The man dropped suddenly to his knees in front of her, and she placed her hands on his shoulders. Her lips were glistening from his kisses. With a sure touch he parted her thighs, then her labia, opening her to his mouth like a flower to the sun.
My mouth fell open as the man bent and placed a wet, openmouthed kiss on the woman’s cunt. She smiled with pleasure, arching her hips into his face, and heat suffused me.
I shifted in my seat, uncomfortable and at the same time fixated on the scene in front of me. I found that I could not look away.
Watching the man lick and suck and bring the woman to climax was one of the most erotic things that I had ever seen. Neither was the type of person that I expected to see on this stage—both appeared to be in their midforties, and while attractive, were clearly not models. The woman had a soft curve to her belly that told me she had borne children, and the hair between the man’s legs was streaked with iron gray.
Still, something in their caresses drew me in, held me captive. As the woman’s shudders subsided, and she dropped to her own knees while urging the man to his feet, I realized what it was.
“Are they a real couple?” The sureness in the caresses that were being played out in front of us, the familiarity between them, spoke of years of togetherness. Still, I was shocked at the idea of two people, whose wedding rings were visible now that I looked for them, choosing to pleasure each other in a venue that was designed for others to watch.
Zach looked down at me, and though I could see the same arousal that I felt on his features, he gave me his full attention.
“Most of the people who perform here are.” Reaching out, he ran his thumb over the swell of my lower lip. Aroused beyond belief, I caught it in my teeth, then soothed the nip with a swipe of my tongue.
He growled before pulling his hand away.
“Why would someone want to do that?” A thought hit me, and I grabbed at Zach’s leg with tense fingers. “When you said you wanted to show me a part of your life . . . is this what you meant? You want to be on that stage?”
My stomach dropped. Watching the scene before me, where the woman now wrapped full, pink lips around her husband’s erect cock, was surprisingly yet incredibly arousing.
But the idea of standing on that stage getting fucked, even if it was Zach doing the fucking, left me cold.
Zach scowled at my question. Leaning forward, he placed a hand on my knee, the heat of his palm warming skin that was bared beneath the hem of my skirt.
“Nobody gets to see you come but me.” With one swift movement he slid his hand higher, finding and toying with the elastic of my panties. I squirmed with excitement, all the while trying to maintain an expression of nonchalance, though clearly no one in this environment would care.
Zach slid his finger beneath the cloth of my underwear. My body bowed as he found the entrance to my pussy and slid one finger into the wet, waiting heat. Anyone around us who chose to look into our balcony would know exactly what we were up to from the expression on my face, even though the half walls provided a modicum of privacy.
No, I didn’t want to be on that stage, but having Zach’s hand between my legs in public held a definite thrill.
“Nobody gets to experience any part of this cunt but me,” Zach continued, his words hot and stern. I nodded my agreement and pressed my weight down on his finger. He chuckled and withdrew all but the very tip, and I groaned with frustration.
“Watch the show, Devon.” I tried to keep still, but it was next to impossible, with the intrusion between my lower lips.
On the stage, the woman began to move faster, sucking her husband’s cock with enthusiasm. Zach began to move his finger in time with the thrusts, fucking my pussy with his hand as the woman fucked her husband’s cock with her mouth.
I could feel myself growing wetter with every glide of Zach’s finger inside of me. I moaned and shifted restlessly; it wasn’t enough, I wanted more.
The man on stage shouted and thrust once, hard, into his wife’s mouth. Semen dribbled out from between her lips as he came down her throat. I watched, mesmerized, and at the same time Zach withdrew his finger from my heat and pinched my clit once, hard.
He pulled me toward him and swallowed my cry with his kiss as I shuddered into his palm.
“Zach.” My voice was thready and weak, my attention completely focused on him. “I want to go. I want to go someplace and be with you.”
His expression darkened at my words. Bravely, I reached forward and cupped his groin in my palm. He was hard, and I squeezed gently, hoping to urge him to agree with me.
“One more.” Lifting the hand that had been between my legs to his lips, he licked the finger that had ridden inside of me as I watched openmouthed.
“Later, I’m going to spread you open and have as much of you as I want.” I swallowed a whimper at the heat that snaked through me, brought on by the mental image of Zach’s tousled head between my thighs. “But I want you to watch one more. Then I’ll take you home and fuck you.”
“Christ.” I muttered the word to myself as I dragged my attention back to the stage. What I wanted to do was to unzip Zach’s pants, to free his cock, and climb astride him then and there.
At the same time I realized the feelings he could bring out in me were so intense that they scared me a little. But they felt so right—he felt so right with me—as if I was discovering who the real Devon truly was the more time I spent with him.
Taking Zach’s advice, I leaned against him and focused on the new scene unfolding below us. I didn’t want to analyze, didn’t want to think. I wanted to let sensation take me as far as I could go.
When two men walked onto the stage, I caught my lower lip in my teeth. Was this going to be a ménage scene? Was a woman joining them, and they would take turns with her?
Anticipation had the muscles of my belly clenching tightly. I squirmed in my seat, and Zach took my hand and placed it flat on the top of his thigh. I traced patterns over the hard muscles with my fingers, and imagined doing it with my tongue.
The two men on stage were both large and in incredible shape. The rippled muscles that were displayed in the naked chests and arms above their faded denim told me that they were both involved in some sort of physical labor. One was blond and looked like he would be at home riding the waves. The other had hair buzzed short and a tattoo of undulating red flames that wrapped around his tanned skin from his back to his torso.
Both men were attractive enough to have me clenching my thighs together in defense against the heat. But when they turned to each other, and the one drew the other in for a hot, openmouthed kiss I became unglued.
“Zach.” The passion was unfolding onstage between this couple far more quickly than it had with the first pair. The man with the buzz cut was tugging at the zipper of the blond’s jeans even as he caught the other man’s lower lip between his teeth and tugged. The blond cupped the other’s ass in his hands and squeezed the hard planes over and over again. “Zach, are you okay with this?”
“I’m more than okay with it.” One glance told me that Zach was as aroused as I was, riveted to the action on stage as the blond man’s pants hit the floor. The man with the buzz cut drew a small tube from his pocket. After unscrewing the lid he squirted a thick amount of clear liquid onto his hands and the blond man’s bare ass.
“Holy shit.” I was ready to climb the walls. I had never fantasized about two men having sex before, had never even considered that it might be a turn-on. But watching as it played out before my eyes, and knowing that Zach was finding it as arousing as I was, made need crawl beneath my skin.
I couldn’t believe that Zach was as into it as I was. He had never displayed any bisexual tendencies, at least not to me, but I could hear his heavy breathing as he watched the male couple beginning to make love.
Turning, he caught my questioning gaze and smiled, the expression wicked.
“I’m not interested in sex with a man, Devon.” I relaxed a bit, though I hadn’t realized that I was tense. It was stressful enough knowing that Zach could have any beautiful woman he wanted. If he were open to both sexes, I just might lose my mind.
Zach placed his arm over my shoulder and covered one of my breasts with his large hand. Sliding his hand inside the low neckline of my blouse, he began to toy with my nipple, and I felt an answering tug all the way to my womb.
“Just because I don’t want to have sex with a man doesn’t mean that I don’t find watching this arousing as hell.” Even as I pushed into the hand caressing my breast, I looked over and met his eyes. He was looking at me as if waiting for me to be upset or disgusted. I couldn’t imagine feeling either emotion, not at that moment. “Ever heard of Alfred Kinsey and his scale?”
I shook my head.
“Kinsey created a scale where a true heterosexual was located at one end, and a true homosexual at the other. Everything in between was numbered, in degrees of sexual preference.” His eyes flashed as he made sure that I was listening. “Even if a person identifies with one end or the other, Kinsey found that most people are located somewhere in the grayer areas in between. So though I am only interested in having sex with women, I am turned on by watching two men together. Why should I ignore that pleasure, just to force myself to the far end of the scale?”
My mouth was open by the time he had finished speaking. He was so incredibly sexy, so in control of his sexuality. There was so much I admired about this powerful, passionate man. The kinks in his personality fascinated me, drew me in.
Apparently done talking, he pulled at my nipple, and I moaned. The man on stage ran a thick finger through the crevice that divided his partner’s ass. I cried out, a bit louder.
I needed an outlet. As I watched the two men on stage, I reached over with both hands and unfastened Zach’s belt.
“Devon!” His voice was shocked, and I smiled into the darkness. I liked being able to shock him.
After struggling a moment with the button and zipper of his slacks, I freed his cock from the confines of the fabric. I wrapped my fingers around the silk and steel of Zach’s erection, enjoying the hiss of his breath as I slid my thumb over the weeping slit at the top.
“Devon.” His voice was far less stern now, and he thrust up into my hand. A strange sensation washed through me as he leaned back against the leather of the seat and thrust up into my hand again, surrendering to me, for the moment at least.
I felt powerful. It was such a small thing, but Zach giving me leave to take charge made me feel in control of my own life.
I relished the sensation, and wanted to give something back.
I sighed with longing as I ran my fist up and down the length of Zach’s cock. My entire being was full, full of need, and my skin felt too tight.
I wondered if I would ever get enough of this man.
“Devon, stop.” Zach’s voice was hoarse, and he placed his hand over my own, slowing my movements. I tightened my fingers and watched the thrusting on the stage below increase in tempo. “I want to be inside you when I come.”
“Please, Zach.” The soft cloth of my bra abraded my nipples as I shifted restlessly, my hand still wrapped around Zach. “I need this. I need you.”
I felt him shudder, and then he nodded, arching into my grip once more. I stroked him hard and deep, imagined that I was taking him inside of my body. On the stage, the man who was thrusting inside of the other one slowly pulled himself free, then pumped his own length with vigor as he rested a hand on the clenched muscles of the other man’s ass. Within moments he came, his orgasm spattering across the back and buttocks of his lover, who moaned and arched into it.
I ran my thumb down the length of Zach’s cock again, to the tip, and heard him groan, low and deep. Seconds later liquid heat filled my palm, salt scenting the air. I continued my strokes as he shuddered, arching into my touch. He came long and hard, and as on edge as I was myself, I smiled with satisfaction at being able to bring him so much pleasure.
Once he had stilled beneath my hand, Zach inhaled a long, broken breath. He turned his head, and I found myself pinned beneath the bright stare of those golden eyes.
He glared. I grinned. I couldn’t help myself.
“You’re going to pay for that, Devon.” My smile faded as a black thrill shuddered throughout my body. Zach had told me that he was going to take me deeper, and I had played right into his hands.
Rather than feeling fear, I was full of delicious anticipation. I relished the powerful sense of desire he brought to life within me, and the sense of the unknown about what he would show me next.
“Can we go now?” I could hear the eagerness in my whisper. Though the two men on the stage below had switched positions and were caressing each other with renewed passion, I had lost all interest in the scenario.
All I wanted was Zach, and whatever he wanted to bring me.
In response he smiled, and in the curve of his lips were both danger and promise.