Invitation to Pleasure: Open Invitation, Book 2 by Jasmine Haynes Page B

tantalizing perfume
of her sex hazed his mind. She looked so gorgeously loved and pleasured, her
blue eyes a dark shade of midnight desire.
           “You look perfect,” he murmured. Never more so.
           Would everyone know what they’d been doing?
Hell, yes. Without a doubt, even if by some miracle the sounds of their
lovemaking hadn’t made it down the stairs. She looked utterly pleasured. He
would have used the word debauched ,
but there was nothing debauched about Virginia. She was a lady.
           She eased back farther still, his cock
falling from her body, and he felt the loss in his chest.
           “We need to change,” she said but made no
move to do so.
           Her suit was wrinkled beyond redemption,
and a button had torn loose. Her nipples were still ripe buds begging for his
lips. He reached out, dragging his pinkies across the peaks as he pulled the
lapels of her suit closed.
           She looked down. His pants bore the traces
of her orgasms, and dabs of her lipstick were stark against the white of his
dress shirt. For the life of him, he couldn’t remember how it had gotten there.
           She put a hand on his chest and leaned in.
Her lips were sweet, her tongue tracing his mouth, then delving inside.
           “Thank you,” she whispered against his
lips.
           He’d just dragged her up the stairs in full
view of all his guests, then fucked the hell out of her in a frenzy. And she
was thanking him? Warmth spread through his chest. He should be thanking her.
It had been beyond description.
           She took his chin between her thumb and
fingers. “But maybe the club is a better place for that kind of thing than the
middle of a dinner party. There’s so much more”—she tipped her head to one
side, then the other—“freedom at The Sex Club. You do want me to indulge myself
without inhibition, don’t you?”
           What was she saying? That she didn’t want
sex at home, only at the club? Or that she wanted the freedom to indulge
herself with any man she chose, and she’d get that at the club? That subtle
exchange with Wilson Garrett leaped to his mind. He didn’t give a damn what she
meant. Like hell he’d let Garrett or anyone else touch her. Ever.
           But in the only remaining sane brain cell
he had, he knew his actions had compromised her reputation and his business
principles. His jealousy had taken a pleasant exchange involving his best
customer, Wilson Garrett, and turned it into something improper, imbuing the
most polite of smiles with sexual innuendo.
           He needed to work on retaining at least an
ounce of control for the remainder of the evening. After all, there was
business. And then there was
pleasure.
           
    * * * * *
     
           No one had noticed a thing. Virginia
explained her change of attire, choosing a high-necked blouse that covered his
mark, by saying she’d spilled red wine on her jacket. And no one batted an
eyelash. Brett had changed also, into a suit of the same hue as the one he’d
been wearing and another white shirt. No one noticed.
           Brett had brought the two halves of their
double life together, and there hadn’t been a single consequence. Best not to
tempt the fates again, though. She didn’t want to expect that kind of intensity
at home, in case she didn’t get it.
           In a few minutes, she’d call her guests for
dinner. Brett was now mingling, seemingly involved in important discussion
with...Harris? She’d forgotten the man’s name, but who could blame her? Brett
had blown out a few of her fuses, and it would take time to recover. She
smiled. Softly. Just a lifting of her lips that only she felt but no one else
would see.
           It was all so delicious, her body still
warm and moist. She was pleased with herself. She was pleased with him. They’d
gotten away with it, and the knowledge beat an exhilarating pulse between her
legs. Still,