Surrender to Temptation (15 page)

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.

•   •   •

“Z
ach!” 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.