“That sounds lovely.” She settles into the pillows and stares at me, her eyes searching my face. “Do you mind if I ask you a question?”
She’s a little flirty, and I love it.
“Ask away.” I settle back, mirroring her posture.
“You’re so handsome. Why do you need a sex club when I’m sure you could have any woman you wanted?”
So innocent. Fuck. I need to ravage her.
I laugh, a low rumble. “I like to fuck, Selena. I don’t have time for a relationship, and I find women who come to places like this to be... adventurous. It’s simple. We’re here for one thing only, so it takes all the messy emotional labor out of it.”
I give her an answer that probably puts Miss Little House on the Prairie off, but I plan on reeling her in. I like a challenge.
“I enjoy love,” she says, her gaze dreamy. “I don’t find it messy at all.”
I think about what it would feel like to have her big, pouty lips around my cock.
“Was Landon a good lover?” I decide to escalate. I need to know what I’m working with. I shift the duvet to cover my erection, though I’m not planning on keeping it hidden for long.
She sighs. “Landon... was good. He was big.” Her eyes widen, and she giggles nervously. “I think he let that be his whole personality, to be honest. We did missionary, normal stuff. Nothing kinky like this.” She waves a hand at the club around us.
I burst into laughter. “Oh, bless you if you think this is kinky. It’s just a bed and a bar. The kinky stuff comes later.” I give her a playful growl, and she turns a million shades of red.
“I wouldn’t have a clue.” She actually bites her knuckle. It’s incredibly erotic.
“What’s the worst you’ve done?” I ask, keeping my tone light, casual.
“Um, nothing really. I don’t like... putting it in my mouth.” She lowers her voice to a whisper, as if the people around us aren’t currently engaging in acts far more depraved.
“So no swallowing cum?” I ask with a cheery smile.
“Oh, God.” She covers her mouth with her hand, scandalized.
“I take that as a no. What about your ass? Did Landon ever play with your ass?”
Her eyes fly open. She looks like she’s going to explode.
“Heavens no.” She’s so turned on she can barely breathe. Her nipples are poking hard against the thin fabric of her silk blouse.
“Did you let him go down on you?”
She shakes her head.
“So vanilla all the way. Well, you are going to love this.”
Just at that moment, our crème brûlée arrives on a velvet pillow with a tiny plate and two silver spoons.
“I probably will.” She removes her hand from her mouth, her cheeks flushed a deep rose.
“I have done tons of kinky stuff.” I take one of the spoons and crack the hard caramelized shell—snap—making sure to grab a raspberry with the scoop of custard. “Open up.”
“Oh, that’s for me?” She awkwardly opens her mouth and takes the bite. Her eyes roll back. “Oh my God, this is so good.”
“You should taste me,” I say, the words slipping out before I can filter them.
She eyes me, startled, but then laughs.
“It’s a joke,” I lie. “I hope you know that.”
