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My orgasm wasn’t gradual. It burst like fireworks, a sudden blast that started in my pelvis and exploded out, taking hold of every nerve ending.
My head fell back and my hands gave out, my torso now supported by my forearms as the rest of my body hung limp. I concentrated on my breathing, reveling in the tightness of my nipples and the satisfied throb between my legs.
“You’re going to do that again.” He grabbed my shoulders and propped me up, settling my ass on the table. “But next time…” His big hand pressed against my chest and pushed until my back hit the table, “…it’ll be with my mouth between your legs.”
I shivered, and before I knew it, he was on his knees, ripping at my nylons and pulling them away from my body. I gasped and thrust my hands in his hair as he continued to shred the sheer fabric. I felt the cool air on my core when the rip traveled up the seam to the waistband.
He blew cool air across my skin, my lower belly spasming with need, and when his mouth finally touched the folds of my sex I shivered, barely able to hold myself upright.
He licked slowly, tediously, making me sweat and ache with every swipe of his tongue. My legs quivered. My head shook from side to side. I felt like Jell-O, a jiggling mass of sensation.
He kissed up my stomach and our eyes met. My chest tightened and it took three tries to suck in a breath. His eyes on me were just as potent as his tongue on my clit.
I brushed my fingers through his hair and he nuzzled into my touch. After a long pause, he said, “You make me want to break every rule I’ve ever made.”
For a split second I felt bad that once again he’d broken his promise, but then I remembered how good my first orgasm had been. He was a big boy, and I knew just by looking into his eyes that he wanted this as much as I did. “Then why don’t you?”
He dove between my legs, tonguing my folds in a constant rhythm. So hard and precise I let his movements wash over me and followed them into the colorful abyss.
Chapter 11
Grace
The Concord Lounge had been transformed from a dark and mysterious bar into a lavish ballroom for the grand opening party of the Concord Hotel.
I’d had zero doubt that Everly could pull it off, but she had done an even better job than I had imagined.
The place was packed with local celebrities, media contacts, hospitality bigwigs, and, of course, several socialites. Playing off the history of the hotel, the theme was the roaring twenties, and from the moment I walked in, it had felt like I had traveled back in time to a speakeasy.
Barrels of what was supposed to be liquor had been placed around the room and the band played Arthur Miller from the stage, with flapper dancers two-stepping off to the side. Finger foods and drinks were provided by servers dressed in 1920’s retro wear—the items balancing on trays hung low at the hips, held by a strap that went around the servers’ neck, similar to cigarette girls. And by the entrance was the meet-and-greet table, with the five hundred swag bags.
It had taken four orgasms and until two in the morning, but Ben and I had finally managed to finish the swag bags, and in the nick of time. He’d delivered them this morning.
I no longer had much occasion to dress up, so I’d put a great deal of effort into my outfit tonight. My dress was an ode to the historic night—plain black satin with fringe around the bottom, which fell just above my knee. The back plunged in a V to just above my bottom. One wrong move and I’d be giving plumbers everywhere a run for their money.
Standing off to the side of the room, I sipped on a glass of champagne and watched the other guests. But my people watching was cut short when Everly raced over, grabbing my forearms in nervousness. “Are you sure the line wasn’t too long to get in? Should I be asking to—”
“Evs.” I did my best to calm her, placing my free hand on her forearm. “Everything is working perfectly.”
Even if it wasn’t perfect according to her plans, no one noticed. By the looks of the crowd, people were happy—laughing, drinking, and dancing. What mor
e could an event planner ask for?
“Everything does need to be perfect. This is Max’s chance to make a big splash, to get everyone talking. To…” She took a deep breath. “It needs to be perfect.”
“I know.” Everly had a small problem with perfection and living up to other people’s expectations. I had thought dropping out of law school would have done a lot to rectify that. Instead she’d just transferred the pressure of school onto this hotel. And it was beginning to worry me.
“Evs, this is Max’s job. His responsibility.” She nodded, but I knew my words weren’t penetrating her brilliant brain. “You can’t—”
“Jade?” At the sound of the familiar voice behind me, my spine went rigid and the few hors d’oeuvres I’d scoffed down with the champagne churned in my stomach.
Everly looked over my shoulder, a wide expression on her face. She knew as well as I did that the mention of my escort name was an unexpected turn of events—an unwanted turn of events. Her grip on my arms tightened as I looked over my shoulder, but I reassured her with a tiny smile. I wasn’t going to hide.
I knew exactly who was standing behind me. That voice was unmistakable. That voice had demanded my mouth many times. Demanded my obedience. But unlike the swell of desire that used to take over whenever we were together, right now I was trying too hard to keep the contents of my stomach from making an appearance on my shoes.
Johnnie New York. One of my former regular clients. He looked the same—suave and suited-up in gray pinstripes.
I knew I’d eventually encounter someone from my past, but I hadn’t expected it to happen twice in such a short period of time. My encounter with Scott at work had been far worse, but why did Johnnie have to show up tonight? Why here?
