Wicked Secret Page 10

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  I honestly have no clue what I’m doing, especially since I didn’t even bother to question August about where we were going. I simply put on the nicest thing I had brought with me, which was a black dress. It wasn’t even a sexy dress. I had bought it to wear to a funeral two years ago when a coworker died. I have no clue why I brought it to Vegas with me, as I didn’t even bring the heels that go with it. Instead I’m wearing a taupe-colored pair of booties with a spiked heel I bought on sale a few years ago, which look amazing with boot-cut jeans but a dress? Eh, taupe goes with everything.

  I look awful, I’m sure of it. At least my clothing does. I did put on makeup for the first time in forever. Because I didn’t wash my hair, I performed a hack by slicking it back from my face at the sides, poofed up the top a little, and managed to twist and curl the ends of my bob so they pointed forward under my ears. It comes out a little punk-rock looking, so I add an extra layer of kohl liner under my eyes. I didn’t bother putting in my contacts, but the one thing I can say is my blue eyes look way better with my brown hair than with my blond.

  I do get an appreciative look from August when I walk out of my bedroom, so there’s some validation I’m not a total hag this evening. Regardless, it’s my first night out and away from the hospital or the house so I’m going to enjoy it.

  Even in the car, he still doesn’t tell me where we’re going, but when he pulls up to the valet stand outside of The Onyx casino, I assume he’s taking me out for a nice dinner and perhaps a show. My heart actually suffuses with warmth over his thoughtfulness.

  We move through the lobby of the casino over to an elevator with a neon sign above it that says The Wicked Horse. It must be a private club type of restaurant. We ride the elevator up forty-four stories to the top of the building, stepping into a lounge area manned with a hostess behind a podium. The beautiful woman smiles at August, clearly recognizing him. “Good evening, Mr. Greenfield.”

  In return, August inclines his head, then puts his hand to my elbow to lead us past her. I’m slightly surprised he doesn’t check in, assuming he made a reservation earlier, but they clearly know him, which means he must eat here a lot.

  I’m led up to the long bar manned with four bartenders. August procures a white wine for me and a scotch for himself. Once our drinks are in hand, he leads me through the bar area toward a set of double doors. The most I can figure out by the decor is this is indeed some type of private club—maybe like a city country club—and there are probably various places where people can enjoy a quiet drink before dinner.

  Through the double doors is another lobby with long hallways leading off it. With his hand putting gentle pressure on my lower back, he leads me down one of the halls to another set of wooden double doors. I look around with interest at the gleaming hardwood floors covered with Persian rugs, the expensive wood paneling, and the elegant sconce lighting. I know August makes fairly good money at his job just by the beauty and size of his house, but I have to say I’m quite impressed he’s a member at a place like this. It’s totally beyond anything I’ve ever experienced before in our ultra-modest life in Denver. While we aren’t poor, we definitely don’t eat in fancy places like this.

  August opens the door on the left, then motions for me to proceed him in. Crossing the threshold, I’m taken slightly aback by how dim the room is. The sight before me leaves me thoroughly confused.

  Holy shit… what in the hell am I seeing?

  The room itself is monstrous and so dark it takes a moment for my eyes to fully adjust. Focal lights shine down from the ceiling in an otherwise darkened room, highlighting several couches, chairs, and chaises intermittently scattered throughout. Where there isn’t actual furniture, there are piles of huge silk pillows strewn about on the floor. Waitresses and waiters glide around with full trays, barely clothed.

  And on the furniture and the pillows and the floors and up against the wall, there are… naked people.

  Naked people… fucking.

  And not just couples. There are groups of people together. On a pile of purple silk pillows on the floor to my left, I count at least six people, all tangled up, gyrating and touching and licking and sucking—

  I spin around to face August, only to find him watching me intently.

  “What the hell is this?” I demand.

  I realize I’m shaking all over, and August notices as well. He takes my glass of wine, which is practically sloshing over the edge, and hands it to a passing waiter.

  “What do you think this is?” he asks.

  I stammer out, “I-I have no clue.”

  Which is a lie. I know exactly what this is, and my nipples start chafing against my bra and my panties feel incredibly damp.

  August casually lifts his scotch up to his mouth, then takes a sip. When he lowers it, he says, “It’s a sex club. This is called The Orgy Room, but there are other rooms we can go to if you’d like.”

  I dart a glance around, taking in the various sex acts, while my ears ring with moans and the slapping of flesh. Gulping, I manage a strangled, “W-why did you bring me here?”

  August merely chuckles before draining the last of his drink. It’s conveniently placed on the tray of another passing waitress before he replies, “I want to fuck you, Leighton. In here. While people watch. You took a lot from me the night we were together. I want to see how much more I can bend you to my desires.”

  “Are you freaking kidding me?” My voice comes out sounding hysterical. I feel like I’m either dreaming or being punked.

  “I’m not kidding you,” he replies dryly.

  “But… but… why?” I look up, hoping he can see how confused I am and give me some clarity. “You don’t even like me.”

  August averts his gaze. He casually glances around the room before meeting my eyes. With a sigh, he bends his head to put his face close to mine, almost as if he’s making an admission he’d rather not. “I very much like fucking you, and, honest to God, you all damp and smelling so good—straight from my bathtub—well… I decided to do something about it.”

  I scan the club, briefly mesmerized by the sight of a woman on her knees, alternatively sucking on three different men’s dicks. I’m appalled.

  But also turned on.

  Shit.

  I’m not ready to accept any of this, though. “But you could have made a move at the house. Right there when I walked out of the bathroom in only a towel. I don’t understand why you brought me here.”

  I’m stunned when, rather than answering me, August yanks me into his arms and spins me around toward the interior of the club. His body moves behind me, his arm sliding around my stomach to hold me tightly to him. I can feel the length of his erection pushing into my lower back, proving this atmosphere very much turns him on.

  I feel his breath on the side of my face, his lips near my ear. “This is who I am now, Leighton. What you see… all this kinky fucking… this is me.”

  I let out a shaky breath. This is what he likes?

  His free hand goes to the hem of my dress, slowly snaking it upward. Cool air hits my thighs before his fingers slip into the front of my panties. “Yes, this is the man I am now. And I want you here, in this club, and I want to see the type of woman you are.”

  August flutters the tip of his finger perilously close to my clit, but otherwise doesn’t touch me. Mind floating, my good sense seems to slip away. For some reason, I can’t seem to care I’m standing in front of these people with my dress hiked up and a man’s hand between my legs. On the contrary, I push my hips forward, hoping to force more contact.

  I know he’s waiting for me to tell him what to do. To tell him to either fuck me right here in public or take me home.

  Instead, I need my curiosity appeased. “This is where you come every night when you’re not at the hospital?”

  August doesn’t answer at first. Instead, he pushes his entire hand into my panties, palming my sex. “No, I haven’t been here lately,” he replies before squeezi
ng me. God, it feels good. I let my head fall onto his shoulder. “I’ve been going in to work to make up for the hours I’m spending at the hospital.”

  I suck in a huge breath, the relief he’s not been coming here to be with other women rushing through my veins.

  But he knocks the wind right out of my sails. “I do come here often, though. I spend a lot of my free time in this club. Once we get Sam home and settled, I expect I’ll resume those practices.”

  “Oh,” I reply, not able to hide my crushing disappointment. Because how can I ever compete with the women here?

  “What do you want to do, Leighton?” he murmurs against my ear, squeezing my pussy again. “Going to let me fuck you in this club? It’s okay to say ‘no’ if you want. I’ll take you home… just say the word.”

  But if I say no, he’ll come right back here to get his rocks off. I know it, and he knows I know it. He doesn’t have to voice the reality for me to know it’s indeed a choice I have to make.

  The internal debate warring within me doesn’t give a rat’s ass that this could be another “one time only” thing with August. I’m well aware we probably have no chance of a future together.

  What I have to decide is if I am the type of woman who is able to accept the challenge of something new and decidedly wicked. Do I have it in me to let down my guard—to become completely uninhibited?

  Do I trust August to protect me in here?

  I answer him with nothing more than a touch.

  A powerful touch, though. I reach back, cup him between his legs, and give his balls a resounding squeeze to mimic the way he’s touching me. I’m feeling brave when I whisper, “Do your worst, August.”

  His laugh is dark and rich, almost mocking. A frisson of fear pulses through me, turning me on even more.

  August removes his hand from between my legs to flag down a passing waitress. I look at the tray she’s carrying and realize it’s not for drinks, but rather has a wide array of objects that might be beneficial in a sex club. Condoms, lube, and small vibrators. Tiny little silver objects that look like they were made to clip onto something, along with a leather device that has a thin dildo attached to it.

  I’m stunned as I take in her offerings, almost bolting for the door when August picks up two items. A bottle of lube and a bullet-shaped piece of glass with a flared base on the end.

  Confused, I scan his face after the waitress saunters off. He holds the glass item up to me, indicating I should take it. I do, marveling at its heaviness and warmth. It’s thinner at the top, flared wider at the bottom. “What’s this?”

  “A butt plug,” he replies. “You had such an amazing reaction to my finger in your ass, so I want to see what else you can handle.”

  I’m already shaking my head before he finishes, because there’s no way that thing is going to fit in my ass. That doesn’t seem to matter to August, though. He merely takes my wrist and pulls me through the room, weaving us in and out of the people having sex. Admittedly, watching the lewd acts being performed around me is only turning me on further. I can feel how amped and wet I already am, a steady throb of need pulsing between my legs.

  We reach a wide chaise with an elegant curved back, covered in what appears to be a matte vinyl material. The sting of disinfectant the workers must clean it with hits my nose. It’s a faintly unpleasant smell I immediately forget when August spins me around.

  He wraps strong fingers around my neck, leans down, then brushes his lips across my mouth. “Relax, Leighton. I swear you’re going to enjoy this.”

  “Will it hurt?” I whisper.

  His smile is feral, his teeth flashing in the spotlight that shines down from the ceiling. “If you’re lucky, it will hurt just right.”

  CHAPTER 15

  August

  I’ve never been one to wake up slowly. When my body’s done sleeping, I instantly come awake. Clearheaded and aware, without the need for an alarm clock. It’s the way I’ve always been, and it has only been heightened over the years of working as a cop, SWAT officer, and now as a security expert for Jameson.

  The first thing I hear is Leighton rummaging around in the kitchen. I imagine her pulling down a coffee cup and… yes, there’s the fridge opening for her to pull out the milk. I’m well aware of her morning routine.

  Glancing over at the clock, I note it’s almost seven. From experience, I know Leighton has already had her shower and is now making her first cup of coffee. She’ll take it into her bathroom to sip on while she finishes getting ready, which includes blow drying her hair and donning clothes. She rarely puts on makeup, but she’s one of those women who doesn’t need it. She’ll be leaving soon to relieve Mike, who had the evening duty at the hospital.

  After I roll out of bed, I slip on the pair of discarded jeans from last night. I sleep in the buff, but, unlike Leighton, I want my first cup of coffee as soon as I wake up. It’s not because I need the caffeine boost as an aid to help slough off tiredness, but because I love the taste and it’s part of my routine. In deference to the fact I now have houseguests, I try not to stroll around naked, despite the fact Leighton saw a whole lot of naked me last night at The Wicked Horse.

  In case Leighton is suffering from potential modesty despite the very dirty things we did last night, I button my jeans and head out of my bedroom.

  I find her in the kitchen, topping her coffee off with milk. “Good morning,” I say.

  Leighton jumps, shoots me a quick look, then focuses on her coffee. “Morning,” she mutters, turning to the fridge to put the milk away.

  Crossing my arms over my chest, I lean against the entryway. I watch as she moves around, her spine stiff as she refuses to give me the time of day.

  This amuses me. I wonder if it’s because of how damn dirty things got between us. I thoroughly fucked her in The Orgy Room after stuffing her with a moderately sized butt plug. She howled like a she-wolf when I slid it in, then panted like a wild dog when I bent her over the chaise and thrust into her from behind.

  It was quite the task just to get her there. At first, she was horrified and embarrassed to be in that room with all those other people. It took me a bit of time to coax her out of that dress. I almost had to force her onto the chaise I’d chosen in the middle of the room, and I could tell she was bothered by the spotlight that shone down on her and the attention she felt it generated.

  But I loved it. The way it bathed her skin and made her glow like an angel.

  At first, I’d had to distract her. She couldn’t seem to get past the other people watching her, refusing to loosen up. Which, technically, they weren’t actually watching her. They were engrossed in their own debauchery.

  To get her to relax, I very quickly wrecked her with my mouth on her pussy, wrenching two orgasms from her before flipping her over to press that lubed plug in deep. Oh, what a howl.

  I ended up taking pity on her. It was just a little too much for her with me fucking her from behind because every time I drove in, I jostled the plug inside her. I thought it was glorious, but when she started crying, not from the pain but because it felt so damn good, I gave her a bit of a break. Pulled her around the chaise, laid down on my back, and forced her to straddle me. It gave her ass a break, and I got to enjoy watching that beautiful woman ride my cock until she brought both of us to climaxes that seemed to stretch on forever.

  Afterward, she sprawled on top of me with her cheek resting on my chest. She didn’t move, just laid there, quiet and still as her breathing returned to normal. It took me a second to realize she was watching something, and I twisted to see what. Right beside us on a bed of pillows, there was a threesome in progress. Almost exactly a duplicate of the last time I was at the club with Declan. There was a guy on his back with a woman on his cock. She bent over him, her hands pressed into the pillows for leverage, while another man plowed her ass from behind.

  My fingertips came up to brush Leighton’s hair from her face, and she blinked slowly. I whispered, “Would you like to try that
sometime?”

  I was stunned when she’d said, “Maybe,” and I could tell by the dreamy quality in her voice she was still under the drugging influence of The Orgy room and her incredible orgasms.

  Here in my kitchen, though, in the bright light of day, I bet Leighton would run screaming if I suggested doing that right now. I can tell by the way she’s not meeting my gaze that she has a few regrets about last night.

  Pushing away from the doorway, I venture deeper into the kitchen to get my coffee. It’s not necessary, but I choose to do it anyway and move so close behind Leighton that I have to put my hand on her hip to scoot by. When she startles, I politely say, “Excuse me.”

  Her breath is shaky. “No problem.”

  Yeah… she’s as affected by me as I am by her. What I wouldn’t do to be able to pull her away from her thoughts and her recriminations for a quick fuck. Bang the regret right out of her. I’d be happy bending her over the kitchen counter to send her back to that dreamy subspace she was in last night. Make her understand what we’d done last night was very much okay.

  Unfortunately, we’ve both got places to be and people waiting on us. While I’d totally be late to work for a chance at her, I would never want to leave Sam waiting for his mom and wondering why she was late. He depends on us being there to keep his spirits up.

  But that doesn’t mean I can’t remind her of just how much she enjoyed last night. If she’s having regrets, I need to leave her focused on the pleasure she had rather than the regret she now feels.

  “Want to go again tonight?” I ask.

  Leighton jolts, spinning around toward me with wide, crazy eyes. “What? Where?”

  Chuckling, I step into her. “You know where. Stop playing dumb, Leighton.”

  Her face turns beet red, and she averts her gaze.

  That just won’t do. I put my knuckles under her chin to force her to meet my gaze. “Stop acting embarrassed. You let me fuck you in front of a hundred people last night. You need to own it.”