He realized she was waiting for his answer. She was still naked, standing on the other side of the bed, watching him with that look. He hated that fucking look almost as much as he hated her ex.
“Lay down,” he ordered gently.
She hesitated.
“I won. I get to choose the next five options. Lay down on the bed, darlin’.”
She did as she was told, watching him with wide blue eyes. He moved to the other side of the room, grabbed the desk chair, and set it at the foot of the bed. The perfect viewing spot.
“Stay there. I’ll be right back.” He went into his bedroom and grabbed the things he’d need. As he came back into her room, her gaze latched on to what he held in his hand. Her intrigued look surprised him. “You like this?”
“Yes.”
“Do you want it?”
“Yes.”
She sounded a little hesitant and a lot curious. Good. She was going to like what he had in mind for her. After all, it was the option she wanted to try the most.
“Fix the pillows so you’re propped up higher,” he told her. “That’s good. Are you comfortable?”
She nodded. There was so much trust in her expression he nearly lost his nerve. He had to get this right for both of them and somehow live up to the faith she placed in him.
He set the one item on the bed next to her. Her gaze followed his movements. He leaned over her and gently placed the weighted nipple clamps on each of her nipples, adjusting the tension until she closed her eyes on a little moan.
He took his seat at the foot of the bed. Their gazes locked.
“Widen your legs,” he commanded. “Wider. Now bend your knees. Drop them back so you’re wide open. That’s it. How’re you feeling?”
“Good.” Her voice was wispy now, full of expectation.
“
This,
darlin’…is option number thirty.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Option thirty.
Cal had asked her which options were her favorite on their wedding day, and Lucy had listed option thirty last even though it was the one she most wanted to try. After what she’d been forced to tell him, he’d chosen her favorite option instead of one of his own.
She lay on the bed naked, her legs wide for him. He’d placed a chair at the end of the bed, which added an extra dimension she hadn’t anticipated.
“Do you trust me, darlin’?”
She nodded, her eyes wider than they’d been before.
“I’m going to sit here. I’m not allowed to move or touch you. I can’t touch myself. And you’re going to do everything I tell you to do, got that?”
“Yes.”
“Good girl. Now we’re going to start with you licking your fingers. Rub them over your nipples in small circles. ”
She did as he asked, her nipples pebbling.
“Pinch them.”
She took her nipples between her fingers as he’d commanded, feeling the pull deep inside. Arching her back, she pinched harder, letting out a moan.
“I love it when your cheeks flush like that. Do you like it? Do you like touching yourself?”
“Yes,” she panted.
“I can tell. Are you pretending it’s me, or is it just you?”
“It’s me.”
“You’re so damn sexy, darlin’. You’re making me so hard. Feel your body, how soft and voluptuous you are. Your body drives me insane. Are you wet?”
“Yes.”
“How wet?”
“Not enough.”
“Stroke yourself. Slide your fingers up then down. That’s it.”
Her breathing grew more rapid. She could see he was enjoying this, the watching. She dipped her fingers down and up, slipping into her slickness, teasing herself. Fully flush with arousal now, all she wanted to do was come.
“Arch your back a little more so the weights pull,” he ordered.
She did as he asked, lifting her torso so that the weights tugged her nipples, and it was so close to how it felt when he had his hands on her that she groaned, moving her fingers faster.
“Now pick up the vibrator and switch it on.”
The phallus was larger than she would’ve chosen for herself and had a rabbit-shaped thing at the base. She switched it on, and the ears vibrated.
“The other switch. Turn that on too.”
She did, and the beads in the shaft spun while the shaft itself thrust up and down. She gasped in anticipation.
“Slide it inside you. Slowly.”
She used the fingers of one hand to widen herself and inserted the vibrator as deep as it would go. She was overwhelmed with sensation. The thrusting action stroked her while the vibrating ears hit just the right spot.
“Look at me, darlin’.” He was fully hard, sitting at the edge of the chair, watching her. “Do you know what I see when I look at you?” She shook her head. “I see a woman so unbelievably beautiful and sexual I want to bury myself deep inside you and pound into you until you scream my name. Do it. Move it inside you as I’d move.”
She did as she was told, finding a rhythm that rocketed her toward orgasm. Opening her legs wider as the sensations built, she put her other arm above her head, pushing her breasts higher. The clamps bit down, plunging her closer to the edge.
“Faster. Harder. That’s it. Fuck yourself. Come for me, darlin’. Come.”
The vibration slammed into her from the front as the thrusting head hit her deep, and she went off, throwing her head back and coming so hard she cried out. Never had she felt anything so intense in her life. The orgasm rolled through her, wave after wave of ecstasy. Nothing existed outside of her and the pulsing between her legs. She switched off the vibrator and threw it on the bed. Chest heaving and limbs tingling, she went completely limp.
“Goddammit if that wasn’t the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”
She’d forgotten he was there. She turned her head to the side so she could look at him. “Thirty is
the best
number.”
“I’m going to have it tattooed on my ass.”
She laughed. “Oh, man. I needed that.”
He got up from the chair, his penis hard and jutting, and lay on his stomach next to her on the bed. He kissed her shoulder right next to her scar. “You’re so damn beautiful, darlin’, that sometimes I can hardly breathe when I’m with you. Like right now. Your cheeks are pink and you look happy. Are you happy?”
“I think so. If happy is a loose-limbed kind of numb feeling in my arms and legs.”
“That’s orgasmic happiness.”
She looked into his blue eyes and smiled. “Yeah. I think I am happy. More now than I used to be.”
“I still have four more options, you know.”
“Four.” Laughing, she rolled toward him, the nipple clamps making a tinkling sound as she moved. “Are you planning on using them all tonight?”
“No. Just one more.”
“Which is that?”
“This is one that I put on the list, but if you’re not comfortable with it, then I’ll choose another one.”
“It’s not one where I have to bend ways that normal people don’t bend, is it?”
“Nope. It’s one we’ve done before, so I know you can do it.”
She thought of all the ways they’d had sex in the past. There were a couple she wasn’t so sure if she could revisit.
“What is it?”
“Thirty-three.”
“Which is that?”
“It’s a really good one. In fact you can leave these on.” He lifted the chain of one of the nipple clamps. “I know how much you enjoyed them.”
“How does it work?”
“I lay on my back and you straddle me…backward.”
The reverse cowgirl. She wasn’t sure how she felt about it.
“Or you can face forward if you’d rather,” he offered.
He’d chosen number thirty as the first option he’d won. He’d done it for her. The least she could do was try number thirty-three. It would give her that deep penetration she liked without having him directly behind and on top of her. She could set the pace.
“Okay,” she said. “I’ll try it.”
Cal leaned over and kissed her. It took everything he had not to pounce on her and drive into her without any finesse whatsoever. The way she’d come completely unwound, her legs spread, head back, crying out, he’d had to squeeze his dick to keep from coming right then and there. He’d chosen number thirty-three, hoping she could get off the way he knew she liked it best and yet put her in control. His motives weren’t entirely altruistic. He’d have a fine view of her ass as she bounced up and down on top of him.
He wound the chain of one of the clamps around his finger, tugging on her nipple, and then sucked on it. She arched back, leaning into him. He ran his hand over her hip and then between her legs. She was still so wet from pleasuring herself that his fingers slipped easily into her. Widening her legs for him, she tilted her pelvis, giving him deeper access. He knew she was getting close to coming again, and damn it, so was he. He’d been on the verge since he’d told her to spread her legs and touch herself.
Fumbling on the nightstand, he located the condom and rolled it on. With no finesse at all, he shifted so that he was between her thighs. He broke off the kiss and looked down at her.
“I don’t care what number this is. I want to see your face.” He eased himself into her little by little, watching her the whole time, until he was fully seated. “Oh, God. I can’t…”
He began to move within her, thrusting without any skill. It had been
so long
since he’d been inside her. She wrapped around him, hugging him to her. He lost track of everything except the feel of her and his impending orgasm. He chased it, driving hard into her until it hit. He threw his head back and grunted, then collapsed in an unceremonious heap on top of her.
As his heart rate slowed and his brain re-fired its engines, he realized she was crying. He pushed himself up and looked down at her. She was smiling, but tears leaked out of her eyes and into her hair.
“Darlin’, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong.” She sniffed.
“Then why the tears?”
“Because it’s been so long since I came during sex. I missed it.”
He put his forehead to hers. “Jesus, darlin’, don’t say things like that.”
“It’s true. God, Cal. That was so good. I don’t care if it was in the option agreement or not. Plain old vanilla missionary sex works just fine for me.”
He gave her a gentle kiss. “Me too, darlin’. Me too. Any way I can be inside you works for me.”
“I missed you.”
“I missed you too.”
“I’m counting this as one of your five even though it’s probably not in the option agreement.”
“Oh, are you?” He rolled them over so she was on top. One of the nipple clamps had fallen off. He released the other one and threw it on the floor, then he bent his head and kissed each of her breasts. God he loved her breasts.
“Yeah.”
“So you’re making the rules around here now?”
She leaned forward, brushing her nipples across his chest. “Got a problem with that?”
“No, darlin’. When you do that, I don’t have any problems at all with that or anything else in the world.”
“Could I ask you a favor?”
“You could ask for anything from me right now and I’d likely give it to you.”
Her lips curved into the kind of smile she used to give him. Even if she weren’t naked and lying on top of him, that smile would get her whatever she wanted. It had been too damn long since he’d seen it.
He cupped her face. “What can I do for you?”
“Can we keep things the way they are?”
“What do you mean?”
“You haven’t exactly been subtle about wanting me to share your bed every night. I’m just not sure I’m ready to move across the hall.”
“We can keep them any way you want. I kind of like having to walk across the hall and ask permission to come into my wife’s bedroom. Keeps me honest.”
“Are you sure?”
“There’s only one thing I’m completely sure of, darlin’. And that’s if nothing at all changed between us and we stayed exactly the way we are right now, I wouldn’t have a thing to complain about.”
“You’re only saying that because I’m naked and laying on top of you.”
“Like I said. Keeps me honest.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
It was the night of the dinner party when Lucy would really earn her stripes as Cal Seller’s wife. She’d chosen what she thought was the perfect dress and had her hair and makeup professionally done. The house was spotless, the decorations flawless. The food was more than delicious—it was exquisite. Even Poppy had a new outfit for the occasion, a cute little red, black, and white dress with white tights and shiny new black Mary Jane shoes.
Lucy stood in the entry hall, ready to greet her husband as he came home from work. She hoped with everything in her that he approved of what she’d done. This dinner was important not only to Cal but to Lucy as well. He’d offered her marriage as a way out of her situation based on her ability to pull off the kind of corporate affairs wives of her caliber were expected to perform. Only she’d never hosted a dinner party, and she’d certainly never choreographed a six-course dinner for four.
Twisting her hands together, she checked the time again. Twenty minutes. Twenty minutes until their guests arrived, and their host had yet to make an appearance. What would she do if he didn’t come home before their guests got here? How would she entertain them?
The front door opened, and Cal appeared. “I’m late. I’ll be right down.” He barely gave her a glance before he ran past her up the stairs, briefcase in hand.
Halfway up the stairs, he turned. “Damn it.” He made his way back down and gave her a brief kiss, then headed upstairs. “I’ll be five minutes, no more.”
She stared at her husband’s retreating form, wishing he was standing next to her so she would at least know what to expect before their guests arrived. She made her way into the kitchen to check yet again on the preparations. All seemed to be in order as the caterer shooed her away. She found herself back in the entryway, alone, waiting for people she’d never met yet had to impress.
She checked her reflection for the third time in the past few minutes. The hairstylist and makeup artist had made her look like someone she hardly recognized, a better, prettier, more presentable version of herself that perfectly matched the expensive dress she wore. She was a long way from the trailer parks and apartment complexes she was used to. Washed, waxed, made up and done up, she felt the part. She knew how to charm people. She knew how to present herself in the best possible light, and she certainly knew which fork to use and when.
She could do this.
Straightening her spine and lifting her chin, she imagined herself greeting the President of the United States and the First Lady. If she was worthy of them, she was certainly worthy of a good old boy from Tennessee and his wife. Even if they were billionaires and were often photographed doing ordinary things like wrangling steer and organic gardening.
Oh, my God.
She was so out of her depth. She didn’t know the difference between millionaires and billionaires. To her they were ’aires miles out of her reach. What had Cal been thinking, putting her in charge of a dinner party where she was expected to not only entertain but to charm them over to her side…to Cal’s side, where he could convince them he was the one to buy their company and grow their business? She knew
nothing
of these people.
As far as she was concerned they may as well live on opposite sides of the galaxy, let alone the state. She checked her reflection in the hallway mirror for the fourth time. Too much blush! She looked like a harlot. This would never do. She’d embarrass Cal, and the deal would be dead before discussions even began.
She rushed toward the bathroom as Cal thundered down the stairs. He caught up to her halfway there.
“Where are you going?” he asked. “They’ll be here any minute.”
“I need to fix—” Oh, damn. The doorbell. “I’m wearing too much blush. Stall them.” She started for the bathroom again, but he gripped her elbow.
“No, you don’t. You look perfect. In fact… Come here.”
“There’s no time!”
“Darlin’, if you don’t come here, I’m not going to answer the door.
“What?”
“Thought that’d get your attention. Come here.” He hooked her hand into the crook of his arm. “You’re perfect. Let’s greet our guests.”
She stared at him like he’d lost his mind because clearly he had, and then the doorbell rang again and she realized it was she who had taken a turn for the worse. She had guests to greet.
Oh, Lord, help me please
, she prayed. There was no way she could get through this night successfully without some kind of divine guidance.
Cal opened the door to a rather ordinary-looking couple about twenty years older than they were. For some reason that made Lucy feel better. The wife’s dress was of a similar color as her own, and the man appeared to be more interested in their house than he was either her or Cal.
“Hello, Joel,” Cal said smoothly. “This must be your lovely wife, Anne. Please come in.”
He held the door open for them. The wife’s attention was focused more on Cal than on either her husband or the home they’d been invited into. She spent way too long greeting Cal and hardly gave Lucy a glance as she was introduced. Lucy had her number. Anne Gleason was a woman who had married young for money, produced the proper heirs, and was now free to pursue her options. Lucy was going to make sure that Mrs. Gleason knew that Cal wasn’t anyone’s option but hers.
“A pleasure to meet you.” Lucy held out her hand to Mr. Gleason only to be crushed into a hug so fierce it left her breathless.
“Mrs. Sellers. Lucy,” Mr. Gleason said, holding her away from him with both hands on her arms. “I’ve heard so much about you.” His gaze raked her from head to toe, and by the time he was done, Lucy was desperate for a shower.
So this was the man they had to charm into agreeing to sell his company to Cal’s. Cal hadn’t mentioned anything to her about him being a letch.
Cal dropped an arm across Lucy’s shoulders, drawing her in close. “My wife and I are pleased to welcome you as our first guests as husband and wife. Isn’t that right, darlin’?”
Lucy picked up where her husband left off. “It’s such a pleasure to have you in our home. Please, won’t you come in?” She guided them to the living room where a tray of hors d’oeuvres had already been set up. “May I offer you a drink?”
Mrs. Gleason lowered her shawl, revealing an unexpected plunging neckline. “What do you have?” She settled herself into the sofa, arms draped across the back.
Lucy suddenly realized that Anne’s entire outfit was nearly see-through, with little peek-a-boo cutouts that barely covered her areolas. But Mr. Gleason didn’t seem to notice his wife’s outfit. His eyes were glued to the front of Lucy’s dress, which was much more modest in comparison to Mrs. Gleason’s.
Lucy sat next to Anne on the couch and crossed her legs.
Instead of sitting in the chair opposite the couch, Mr. Gleason squeezed in next to Lucy, making her scoot over to avoid being sat on.
Cal came forward, reaching a possessive hand out to Lucy. “Darlin’, why don’t you go and check on dinner while I see to our guests?”
She took his offered hand, leaving Mr. and Mrs. Gleason alone on the couch. “Please, help yourself to an appetizer. I’ll be a minute,” she told her guests.
Cal followed her partway to the kitchen and leaned down close to her ear. “You stay next to me and we’ll be just fine.”
Lucy wasn’t so sure. The Gleasons seemed to have differing objectives for the evening, and they had nothing to do with business.
“I’m up for some kinky things,” she said to her husband. “But wife swapping isn’t one of them.”
“I’m telling you right now, darlin’,” he whispered so just she could hear, “I’m the only one who’s going to be taking that dress off you tonight.”
She flushed under his gaze as memories of the past few nights came into her head. They’d knocked off Cal’s remaining options from their bet, including the reverse cowgirl. At first it had been difficult for her to enjoy it, but then Cal had stroked her from her shoulders down to her waist, over her hips and across her thighs, and she’d felt how much he cared for her. The next thing she knew she’d rocked them both to completion, tossing her head back and crying out Cal’s name.
Tonight it was Lucy’s turn to choose an option. Just thinking about it made her nipples hard and her panties wet. Why should she be the only one who was uncomfortable?
“You know when you say things like that, cowboy, it makes me so wet.”
“Jesus, darlin’. I love it when you talk like that. Makes me want to push you up against the wall, lift your skirt up, and see for myself how wet you are.”
“That’s exactly the option we’ll be scratching off the list tonight.”
He groaned and turned back to his guests. She chuckled and headed for the kitchen, making a show of checking on dinner even though she knew everything was being taken care of. After a few moments she rejoined Cal and the Gleasons in the living room with a fresh tray of hors d’oeuvres. Joel still sat on the couch, drink in hand. His wife stood next to Cal at the bar as he fixed a drink. She leaned forward, and her breasts practically fell out of her dress and onto Cal’s arm.
“Come sit next to me,” Joel said, patting the couch.
Lucy sat and held out the tray to him. “Would you care for an appetizer?”
“Thank you.” He chose one and popped it into his mouth. “Delicious. Now you.”
Before Lucy realized what he meant to do, he was pushing a Brie and crabmeat puffed pastry into her mouth. She was still chewing when he reached out and brushed his thumb across her lips.
“A crumb,” he said and then licked his thumb.
Lucy swung her panicked gaze toward her husband, but he was busy making another cocktail with Anne pressed up against him as though she was interested in learning how it was done. Or else the whole front side of her had been superglued to Cal.
“You have a lovely home,” Joel said, drawing her attention back to him.
“Thank you.”
“You’ll have to give me a tour after dinner. I’d love to see the upstairs.”
“Oh, it looks a lot like the downstairs. Except with beds.”
He put a hand on her thigh. “Then I’m sure I’ll love it even more.”
“We shouldn’t hog all of the hors d’oeuvres.” She popped up off the couch, making his hand slide away. “I should see if Anne and Cal would like some too.”
“Excellent idea.” He rose as well, placing a hand on her back where the cutout on her dress opened up to bare skin.
With her hands full of the tray, there was nothing she could do except put up with it as they made their way across the room. A sick knot twisted in her belly. This man didn’t seem to care if she was interested in him or not. As soon as she could, she turned so that his hand fell away, offering the tray to Cal and Anne.
“Care for an appetizer?” She could hear the strain in her voice.
Cal must have heard it too. “Darlin’, why don’t you put that tray down, and I’ll mix you a drink.” He handed Anne her cocktail, forcing her to move back or end up with her drink down the front of her dress. “Here’s your Slow Comfortable Screw, Anne.”
Lucy couldn’t believe the woman’s nerve.
Cal leaned on the bar toward her. “What can I get for you, darlin’? How about a Harvey Wallbanger? A Screaming Orgasm? I can also do a Long Slow Comfortable Screw Up Against the Wall.” He winked. “But only for you.”
Lucy bit the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling, then cleared her throat. “I’d love a Long Slow Comfortable Screw Up Against the Wall. But only from you.”
The rest of the evening went well, Lucy thought. Anne and Joel continued to flirt with them, but after Cal’s drink offering they weren’t as persistent. Cal insisted on showing their daughter off to them, which brought out a different side to Anne that Lucy appreciated. They had motherhood in common if nothing else.
Cal closed the door after waving goodbye to their guests and leaned back against it. “I think that was the most interesting dinner party I’ve ever attended.”
“I’m not sure interesting is the word I’d use, but it was certainly the most unique.”
“You know, darlin’…” he eased away from the door and came toward her, “…you really held up your end of the bargain tonight. The food was delicious. You were a gracious and generous hostess. Not to mention the fact that you look amazing in that dress.” He hooked a finger into her neckline and pulled. “Every time you bent over I got to look down it.”
“You and Joel. I think next time I’ll wear a turtleneck.”
He let go of the front of her dress, trailing his finger up to cup the back of her neck. “Did you enjoy yourself despite the rudeness of our guests?”
“I actually did. I especially enjoyed my cocktail. I don’t think I’ve ever had a Long Slow Comfortable Screw Up Against the Wall.”
He backed her up until she met the wall. “I’m feeling challenged to remedy that, darlin’.”
“You already did once tonight.” She brought her arms up around his neck. “I’m counting on you to do it again.”
“This is a wall,” he said, moving into her. “And you’re up against it.”
“We’re in the middle of the house.”
“The caterers have gone. The staff is in their quarters. We’re alone and up against a wall.”