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“So good, babe,” he whispered. “You’re doing so fucking good.” And she loved that he was

as into this as she was, watching another guy do her as she gazed into his eyes.

But then Anthony eased off, going still, and used his hands to shift her position, reminding her—this was a show for the other patrons and she’d agreed to follow his lead even as he’d promised to keep things fairly simple.

Behind her, Anthony leaned back, resting on his knees on the divan, and he took Brenna with him, situating them both in an upright position, his cock still jutting up into her cunt.  Oh—she felt it deeper this way, putting her weight on him. Her legs were parted, spread so that her calves stretched out on both sides of his, and he reached down, between her thighs, using the fingertips of both hands to spread the front of her pussy, as well.

Damon’s eyes dropped briefly to her freshly shaved flesh, then rose to hers. He’d been standing at one end of the ornate divan, but now climbed up onto the upholstered bench on his knees, moving closer, closer, until his stiffened cock pressed directly between her breasts.

She sucked in her breath as Anthony’s hands came around, pushing the two mounds of soft flesh around Damon’s rock-hard length. She sighed with the pleasure it brought—pleasure she’d never before contemplated. And pleasure that grew still more intense when  Damon began to slide his erection up and down between her tits, fucking them. Oh God, it felt so good. So good to have such powerful strokes buffeting her breasts while Anthony continued to fuck her pussy below.

Again, she moved with them, the three of them finding a common rhythm, then working it.  Around them, moans of pleasure filled the air, some of them echoing from her and the two men enjoying her. And being on the dais continued to inspire her, make her more energetic, wanting to show everyone what it was to be a perfect bad girl.

As Damon’s shaft pistoned upward, she stuck out her tongue, catching the tip at the end of each thrust. He let out a hot little groan with each lick she delivered, and finally, she bent forward, her mouth in the shape of an “O,” letting him drive the head of his cock between her lips each time.

Making his cock wet again helped it slide more easily through the valley of her breasts, turning her skin slick, making them both move harder against each another. It was now  Damon’s palms pressing her tits around his thrusting cock; Anthony now used one hand to steady her hips over his as he fucked her and the other to rub hot little circles over her clit.

Together, the three of them gyrated, the pleasure deepening, deepening, until Brenna thought she would die of it. The rhythmic swirl of Anthony’s fingers showed his sexual experience as he pushed her closer to orgasm with each circular caress. She shoved her clit against his hand even as she met his dick underneath. And her breasts felt swollen from Damon’s hot fucking, larger somehow than they’d ever been in her life.

She heard her breath grow thready, louder, and knew she was close—and above her, Damon’s breathing hitched, too. She looked up, meeting his gaze as the tip of his shaft entered her mouth, then heard him murmur, “Ah, fuck, I’m coming,” just as hot, wet semen burst from the slit of his cock, arcing across her breasts in one, two, three, vigorous shots.

She sucked in her breath and orgasmed—the hot pulsing, pleasure exploding from her cunt and outward as Damon sensually rubbed his warm, white come into her breasts,

making them slick and shiny, his obscene massage causing her climax to stretch, stretch,

so long, longer than any she’d ever had.

As it finally passed, Anthony drove his cock up into her—hard, hard, hard—groaning with each stroke, his hands gripping her hips tight, and she knew he’d just come, too.

And as they all went still, the crowd around them seeming to quiet then, as well—making her think maybe a lot of people had just come with them—Damon did something no one else on the dais had done tonight after their performance. He took her face in his hands and kissed her.

Eight

They lay in bed in Damon’s suite, cuddled together naked, on the verge of drifting off to sleep.

“Sure you don’t want to shower?” he asked.

Her hair brushed against his shoulder as she shook her head. “No. Too tired. And I like having your come on me.”

He smiled, exhausted and sleepy, but more gratified than he could understand. “I didn’t think you’d like that. I even tried to hold it in, but I couldn’t.”

Another head shake. “I love it. It’s like…wearing you.”

Just like with his ejaculation earlier, now he couldn’t hold in the low growl that escaped him in response. Just when he’d thought he’d taken her to the peak of her sexual willingness, she climbed higher. He’d hoped she would embrace the atmosphere of the faux Roman orgy—but he’d never dreamed she would suggest a threesome with another guy. It shocked him way more than their encounter with Jenelle had. Because it was one thing to kiss another girl, rub their bodies together—but to take in two cocks at once…hell, he was still surprised. And on the verge of getting another hard-on just remembering it, despite how damn worn out he was from a full week of wild, crazy sex with hot, beautiful Brenna.

“You didn’t even get to fuck me tonight,” she mused.

felt like I did.” Damon thought about that for a minute, about how satisfied he felt anyway. “Yeah—but it

“I know. Isn’t that amazing?”

He gazed down into her eyes, widened in wonder, in the dark. And recalled her being up on that platform, being so fucking dirty for all the world to see, such a contrast to the sweet girl next to him now. A contrast that made his heart feel like it was bending in his chest.  “You are what’s amazing.”

She smiled over at him, cuddling a little closer. “’Night, baby.”

“Good night, my dirty girl.”

THE SEVENTH NIGHT

“By that sin fell the angels.”

—William Shakespeare

One

They slept until noon the next day. Although more than once Damon had woken up, found her soft body curled next to his, and ended up inside her, moving slow and deep, until finally he would come, then drift back into slumber.

“What’s on our agenda for today?” Brenna asked over a late lunch at the California Pizza

Kitchen at the Mirage.

“Not much,” he replied across the table. “Just one club to hit tonight and that’s it.”

“Good, ’cause I’m pooped,” she said on a laugh.

worn him out. And he agreed. As much as he’d enjoyed their wild week together, little miss Brenna had

Of course, even as exhausted as he was, he still wanted more of her. Couldn’t seem to quit wanting more. Even now, just sitting across from him in a plain, fitted turquoise T-shirt and jeans, her hair pulled back into a ponytail, she looked as delectable as the pizza he ate.

Would he have thought that a week ago? If they’d been eating pizza, if she’d been dressed like this, plain and casual?

The truth was—no, he wouldn’t have.

Of course, he’d known from early on that none of this was just about the way she looked. It was about all of her. And now that the week was drawing to a close and they were going home tomorrow…he just wasn’t sure he was ready to say good-bye to having Brenna in his bed.

And maybe, just maybe, the idea of not saying good-bye was slowly becoming a little less scary to him—and a little more viable, real. Just like Brenna herself. Real.

Two

Brenna dressed down even more than last night—Damon had told her the club they were going to wasn’t much more than a hole in the wall on the south side of town, so she took advantage of the situation, given that she’d already pretty much worn everything in her stylish new A&R rep wardrobe. Damon also asked if they could take her car tonight instead of a cab, which she didn’t mind—but she let him drive, not particularly wanting to navigate the traffic on Las Vegas Boulevard.

When they walked into a small, dark building called Lefty’s just after nine, she felt right at home in her simple black tank and jeans. Of course, Damon’s usual jeans and vintage tee—tonight’s featured the Doors—seemed to fit in anywhere. A few people at the club recognized him, but the beer-and-peanuts crowd was friendly and thrilled to have someone they considered a celebrity in their midst.

Over two Coors, they watched and listened to a band called the Outsiders, which featured a pink-haired girl with nose piercings, backed up by four garden-variety head bangers in night, while she’d been changing clothes, yet she and Damon quickly agreed that while the their late thirties. The tip on the band, she learned, had actually come from Anthony, last  Outsiders were a decent bar band, they’d likely never find fame and fortune.

As they departed the bar only an hour after arriving, Brenna found herself reflecting on the previous night. Until Anthony’s name had come up, the memory of Caligula’s had seemed more like a dream than something that had really happened. The pleasure had been unsurpassed—and not just physical pleasure but the intense joy of feeling so bold and brave, so much like a free sexual creature, set free by Damon.

And as they drove through the darkness—the car soon leaving the retail and residential area for a landscape more sparse and empty—she thought about the fact that had she done something so spontaneous, so extreme, with any other man she’d ever met, she’d be swimming in doubt now, worried sick that he would see her differently than he did before, that he would no longer respect her. But with Damon, there simply were no worries.

She knew what they had was temporary, but she also knew it was more than purely physical, that he truly liked her and maybe even cared for her. And that he was sincerely gratified to see her reveling in her sexuality so completely.

“Um, where are we going?” she asked as the headlights cut through the night, revealing  that they’d abandoned the city completely now—for the desert. On either side of the road,  she saw nothing but dry earth dotted with low green-brown bushes, and a moment ago a  tumbleweed had even gone rolling across the two-lane highway.

“Here,” he replied lowly as he eased the car off onto a side road that was actually nothing

more than a dirt path.

“Um, where is here? Since this kinda looks like nowhere.”

He stopped the car, turning to peer at her, the dashboard lights illuminating his expression.  She’d seldom seen him look so serious. “I guess I just…wanted to be alone with you tonight. Really alone. Not just in the suite, but…away from everything.”

Brenna didn’t answer, because she didn’t know what to say. She’d worked pretty hard to keep the parameters of their relationship straight in her mind. Even though she’d fallen in love with him, she’d known it was going nowhere. Even if he did care about her, she’d

understood that it was not romance.

This, though, sounded strangely like romance.

He let his gaze drop briefly, a slightly self-deprecating grin stealing over his face as he raised his eyes back to hers. “Is this weird? Or just…boring? After everything else this week, all the other places we’ve fucked? Is it strange that I brought you out here? That I want to be inside you with no one else around, no other distraction—just me and you?”

She swallowed, hard. She’d never heard him speak quite so tenderly—or ever sound even remotely sheepish. “No,” she managed to whisper. “Not at all. I…like it.”

Because he’d been right last night—no matter how wild or brazen she became, she would still always appreciate a loving, caring, romantic man.

“Come outside with me,” he said. “I want to be outside with you, feel the night with you.”

As Brenna walked with Damon into the stark desert landscape, she began to experience that tiny feeling, that way you could feel standing at the shore peering out over the vast ocean, the way she’d heard people felt at the Grand Canyon. It was like being immersed wholly in nature, forced to feel it, see it. Even in the dark, the rims of the mountains in the distance were visible in dim silhouette, the sky above just a shade lighter in midnight blue.  A warm breeze stirred the night air around them.

She’d likened the “Grand Canyon feeling” to Vegas in a different way upon her arrival here, but this…this was so much deeper, better. She realized she wanted to be alone with him, too.

Finally, Damon stopped and turned to face her. “I like being out here. No lights, no noises—nothing but you.” Then he lifted his hands to her face and pressed his mouth to hers. It was as hot and arousing as the first kiss he’d ever given her—in the closet at  Fetish—and she immediately needed something else.

“Fuck me,” she breathed more gently than she’d known such words could leave her.

And as Damon drew her to her knees on the desert floor, as he slowly pushed up her top and bra and kissed her breasts, as he gently peeled off her jeans and his own and eased his way into her warm, wanting body, she realized she’d never known fucking could be so sweet.

They moved together, slowly at first, but then harder—she lifted against his cock, her hips bucking, seeking that hot friction she loved. And he kissed her as he slid in and out of her, kissed her and caressed her and made her feel worshipped from head to toe.

“Ah, God—you feel so damn good tonight,” he said on a heated breath. “Your naked

pussy’s so soft and smooth when I slide in.”