My mouth dropped, and I leaned back, putting distance between Brad and myself. “You told him? About what we’ve done?” I narrowed my eyes and Brad laughed.
“Easy, princess. I haven’t told him anything. But I’ve known Marc for over ten years. We have run in similar circles, have shared women several times, sometimes several women.” I felt a small bit of jealousy at his words, at their past, which didn’t, in any way, include me.
“You’ve ... seen him fuck?”
“Yes.” He took a swig of champagne.
“And?”
“And ... what?” His eyes danced with humor.
I groaned. “Don’t make me spell it out. Is he ... good at what he does?” I leaned closer, giving permission, and felt his hand return, sliding around my waist and pulling me tightly to him.
“He is very good at what he does.”
“Better than you?”
He shrugged. “Maybe you should find out.” His hand grew rougher, squeezing my skin possessively, the change catching me off guard, a sharp intake of arousal stealing all breath from my body.
I bit my lower lip, and stared into the flute of champagne, remembering Marc’s lips against my hand, and the intensity of those dark blue eyes. “Well,” I said, swirling the flute gently between my fingers, “then maybe we should head upstairs.” Then I tilted the glass back, letting the bubbles of champagne pop and slide down my throat.
Chapter 13
An hour later, I straddled Brad’s body, and he leaned back into the sectional, his eyes drugged with arousal, watching me, the line of his mouth barely affected by the smile that lay there. He ran his hands freely over the front of my dress, dipping inside my low and loose neckline and cupping each breast in turn. “God, you are beautiful.”
I said nothing, only gently moved against him, feeling a slight vibration run through us as the bass rocked a particularly loud note. I could feel the energy of the club, the muted hum of music, of a thousand bodies of barely-contained madness—dancing, kissing, falling in love—underneath us.
“Kiss me,” he commanded.
I shook my head with a smile. “No. Keep touching me.”
A second hand joined his first, both palms sweeping up and cradling my breasts, the pull of the fabric joined with the rough skin of his palms temptingly perfect. He growled, low in his throat. “Like this?” He squeezed, a little rougher on my nipples, my breath catching.
“Yeah.”
“Then kiss me.” He bucked up with his hips, throwing me forward, his upper body lifting, his mouth looking for mine, but I turned my head, gave him my neck, giggling when he nipped it.
“Not yet,” I whispered. “I’m not going to kiss you until his cock is deep inside of me.”
His hands tightened on me, and he groaned my name as he tore at the straps of my dress, pulling the fabric from me, a shiver running through me as my upper body was exposed.
There was a click of a door handle, and my breath caught as I looked up, seeing the black door swing open, a tall suit of gorgeous stepping inside, a phone at his ear, our eyes catching onto and holding each other.
Click. The door shut behind him, and I froze, aware of my bare skin, Brad’s mouth making a wet path down my neck, his hands pushing me into place, arching my back as he traveled over my cleavage, flipping his tongue gently over and then sucking my nipple into his mouth. I gasp at the sensation, my eyes still stuck on Marc, and watch as he smiles, ending his call and tossing the cell aside, plastic on granite, a sliding sound fading into nothing as I watch him step forward, down the steps, into the sunken living room, his legs carrying him behind the couch, until he stood in front of me and looked down. “You started without me,” he said softly, a bit of accent coating his words. Then Brad did something with his mouth, something on my nipple that made my body squirm, need growing, and I dropped my head back and broke eye contact.
Brad leaned forward, laying me back, his hands replacing his mouth. “Do you want a blindfold?”
“No,” I gasped, opening my eyes and propping my body up, meeting his gaze, my stare flicking to the man standing behind Brad, his hands resting on the couch back, his eyes meeting mine. Dark blue fire. A confident smile. So much like Brad in so many ways. It was strange to have my eyes open, knowing the man I was looking at was about to touch me. To fuck me.
There was a soft slap of fabric as Marc removed his jacket and tossed it onto the sofa, fabric hitting leather, his hands unbuttoning and rolling back his sleeves. I watched his hands, avoiding his eyes, my cheeks warming, bashfulness overtaking me.
“Nervous?” His voice was quiet, a tinge of playfulness in their tone.