Cole leans casually against the wall. He’s holding a small black book, one he looks up from as we approach.
The woman blinks at him. “Is that a little black book?”
He gives her the wryest of wry grins, brandishing the small leather-bound book. “Maybe it is. Should I put your number in it?”
“That depends on whether you’re going to want to see me again.”
“Do you want me to see you?”
“I’m not really thinking about the next time. I’m thinking about the fact that I’m leaving in fifteen minutes. And I’m wondering what’s going to happen in this alcove in the next fourteen minutes and fifty-five seconds.”
Cole grins. Even from behind his mask, there’s heat in his eyes. She’s everything he wants. “It’s F. Scott Fitzgerald. One of my favorite writers.” He tucks it into the inside pocket of his jacket, then stalks over to her and raises a hand.
He cups her cheek.
She gasps.
I run my palm along the ties of her corset. What would it be like to undo them one by one? To watch them fall open, to run my mouth along her back? Would she like that?
I decide to find out. Standing behind her, I gently brush her hair away from her neck. Then I whisper, “Would you like me to kiss your neck?”
As if we’ve done this before, as if we know exactly how this will work, Cole closes the rest of the distance between himself and our lady, his lips dangerously close to hers as he whispers, “And I’d love to kiss your lips.”
Her voice is a barren plea. “Yes. Please. Both.”
Her whole body is wracked with a gorgeous shudder that tells me this time with her is going to be electric.
Even with only fifteen minutes, it’s going to be intense and delicious.
And the thing is, I know something Cole doesn’t.
I’m throwing this bet.
5
Cole
Kissing with a mask on isn’t easy.
Lots of things in life aren’t easy though. And you do them anyway, because they’re worth it.
This tryst will be worth it. I’m certain of it. So, in the grand scheme of things, a couple of masks are hardly a roadblock.
Not at all.
Not when we have this beautiful, sensual, interested woman here between us.
Her curiosity—that’s what interests me most of all, that’s what intrigues me. It’s been evident since she joined me here in this alcove, evident in the way she walked over, how she lifted her chin, how she said yes to us.
I want to reward all of her curiosity, to let her know exactly why it’s worth having us both.
Together.
There is barely a breath of distance between this woman and my business partner . . . between this woman and me.
And after the long, endless week filled with meetings, phone calls, emails, contracts, deals, and negotiations, I don’t just want this.
I need this.
Whatever this will be.
Whatever this is becoming.
Whatever she’ll have.
Once upon a time, moments like this were pure fun, delicious decadence. Then they became the antidote to my dealmaking days. Now, they’re something more too. The promise of a pleasure-filled night has become a need.
A part of me. Something I crave now and then. Something I must have every so often.
It’s the high, the hit, the reward.
I inch even closer to her so that soon, soon I can kiss her.
But not yet. Not yet at all.
I take all the time in the world even though we barely have time.
Because I know how much more she’ll want my lips if I do this first. I spread my right hand across her waist, over the satin fabric of her corset. She shivers from that one touch.
From only one exquisite touch.
“You like it when we touch you,” I rasp out.
“I think I do,” she whispers as my left hand travels south, toying with the hem of her skirt. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Daniel spreading his hands over her ass. Squeezing her.
“You think, lovely bird?” I ask.
“Oh, I’m sure now. I’m so sure.” She arches forward, her back bowing, words falling from her lips so gorgeously with a gasp. “What are you doing to me?” she whispers as she lowers her face, exposing more of the gorgeous real estate of the back of her neck.
He answers the call, dropping his mouth there.
“Why only be kissed by one man when you can be kissed by two?” I whisper, and she shudders.
“Yes, why?” she asks, all breathy and needy.
That’s why we do this. Because we know what this kind of attention can do to a woman when done right.
Because we know what kind of earth-shattering, mind-blowing pleasure we can bring to a gorgeous, curious woman who maybe, possibly, has never been kissed like this.
That’s what’s so thrilling about our game—it’s not the money.
Fuck the money.
It’s the possibility of what she might feel as we take her to new heights, make her soar in brand-new ways from double the pleasure, two times the bliss.
As my best friend trails his mouth along the back of her neck, I lower my face to her chest, dropping kisses along the exposed skin above those luscious breasts. I dust my lips along her sweet flesh, savoring that first honey taste of her as it swirls in my nose, goes to my head, makes my cock pound.
But tonight isn’t about my cock at all.
This is about the chance to bring incandescent pleasure to a woman who appears to covet it.
That is my greatest turn-on. To make a woman go wild, to make her pant, moan, and scream. To make her knees weak, her heart hammer, and her panties so damn damp that they’re utterly useless.
And then, to multiply her lust. Because bliss can be better when there are two men giving it to one woman.
When she can feel us everywhere.
I roam my lips over the delicious skin of her chest, kissing along her sternum, moving up to the hollow of her throat. I lick her there as Daniel’s hands rope in her blonde strands, as he brushes kisses along the edge of her shoulders. She gasps and sighs. Shivers too.
We are both adoring her with our lips and hands and bodies.
That’s what I want—for her to feel worshipped. Like a queen of her own pleasure.
I kiss her neck with that goal in mind—to make her writhe, to make her moan. She gasps and pants, and I haven’t even reached her lips yet. I journey up her neck to her chin, kissing her there, sucking.
Then I break that kiss, cup her jaw, and slide my thumb along her face. Daniel bends lower, kissing the back of her neck as her lips part in an oh. She grinds against me, sounds falling from her mouth that are so damn dangerous and delicious. I want to swallow them down, drink them up, devour them.
I can’t wait any longer. Closing my eyes, I drop my lips to hers, and I savor the taste of her kiss.
The second I touch her, she shudders, a sigh falling between our lips, a sigh that tells me she’ll be coming from my hand very soon.
I’ll win the bet.
But I’ve already won it, for all intents and purposes.
We already know who’s leading, only I don’t actually care about the bet. I’d lose that money double times over for another taste of her.
I have plenty of green. This game is never about the money. It’s about the chase, the thrill, the high of bringing this type of bliss to a woman, often for the first time. Of introducing something to her that she may never have experienced before but that might make her lose her mind with lust. And I’ve become addicted to making the woman I’m with come, come hard, then come harder than she ever has before, whatever it takes. Pleasure is the cure. Pleasure is always the goal.