Polished (16 page)

He grabbed his wallet and shoved it into his breast pocket. With long, quick strides, he made his way to their room.

Standing in front of their door, Jack raised his hand to knock. Spencer opened it just as his knuckles touched the wood. Standing there in the archway, he looked surprised.

“I wanted to speak with both of you,” Jack said.

Spencer opened the door wider and let him come in. “We wanted to talk to you too.”

Now Jack was surprised, and cold water ran through his veins. The look on Spencer’s face told him that whatever he had to say, the words weren’t going to come easy.

“Ror and I have a great thing together.”

“I know that, man. You two are perfect for each other.”

“But fuck me if I can say I’ve ever seen her more turned on than this afternoon.”

Jack shrugged. “I find that hard to believe.” Jack’s gaze skittered toward Rory. She sat silently on the edge of the bed, content to let Spencer speak for her.

“Our sex life is fine. Spectacular, actually. But this afternoon was something…just something completely different.” He raked his hand across his hairless jaw and nibbled his thumbnail. Jack registered the fact that Spencer was freshly shaven. In his suit he was also devastatingly handsome and, at the same time, he looked disarmingly vulnerable standing there.

“We don’t need to…” Jack started. It pained him to see Spencer struggling so much with what he had to say. Those gorgeous, rugged features were twisted, as though something were stabbing him in the gut. Jack just wanted to make it all better.

“This is hard for me,” Spencer said.

“I see that, dude.”

“What…what if we wanted to do it again? Later…after dinner.”

Jack smelled something new in the air and the hunter in him tugged free. His lip curled. “What the hell would make you think you get to decide when?”

The sun-kissed skin of Spencer’s face turned a deep shade of red. Jack wasn’t sure if it was embarrassment or rage. Maybe some of both.

Jack burned to step in and take charge of the man he now considered a friend, but the need had roots in care and not control. It was an unsettling sensation. He shook his head, with a shudder.

“If you don’t want to…” Spencer started.

Jack raised his fingers to Spencer’s mouth. “Shhhh.” His fingers trembled, barely touching Spencer’s ruddy lips. He knew he mustn’t scare the butterfly
.
Only suddenly, Jack was feeling more like the butterfly himself. Several had certainly taken up residence in his stomach.

Jack steeled himself, knowing what Spencer needed from him, suddenly knowing he wanted to be the one to give it. “Tonight I forbid you to speak. No small talk, no need to explain yourself.” It was more of a gift than a punishment, and the soft nod of Spencer’s head told Jack that he knew it. His fingers fell over Spencer’s chin and down to his tie. With deftness, he straightened the slightly askew knot. “We start right now, understand?”

Spencer nodded again and glanced at Rory, who was sitting with her small hands balled into fists in her lap. Sweet Rory, how did she play into all of this? Jack loved women—loved to fuck them, at least—but Rory was not a woman he just wanted to fuck and forget. So, problem number two waited furtively on the edge of the bed, her eyes lit with excitement and her body wrought with trepidation—the picture of contradiction. She had to know that he was bad for them. How could she not see his darkness in the midst of her optimism? But, God, she made him want to know something better than empty good-byes in the wee hours of the morning. They both did.

Jack headed over to her, signaling her to stand. She smoothed the wrinkles her seated position had put in the soft silk hugging her thighs. “You look beautiful, Rory.” When she didn’t say anything, he cocked his head to the side, placed a crooked finger under her chin. “You know, only Spencer isn’t allowed to speak tonight.”

She fussed some more with the dress, looking uncomfortable under his appraisal. “Thank you,” she said simply with a tiny smile.

“Stop trying to make yourself any more perfect than you already are,” Jack scolded softly. He captured her wrist as she self-consciously tried to swipe at an ornery strand of hair that had escaped from the upswept pile atop her head. Jack frowned at the meticulous hairdo. She must have worked all evening on it, yet it was so obvious that it didn’t suit her. “Let me,” he said, then reached into her tresses in search of the offensive bobby pins.

“Hey!” Rory protested, swatting at his fingers.

Jack was undeterred. “You’re most beautiful when you don’t try to be.” He smiled. “I bet you never knew that.”

She shook her head and looked to Spencer. The slow nod he gave her said that he agreed.

“There, that’s better.” Jack took the somewhat unruly locks and pulled them forward onto Rory’s shoulders. “But I’m still not quite satisfied that you understand who’s in charge.”

“What?”

He wrapped both his hands with her shiny hair and tugged slightly. “If I want your hair down, you wear it down. You don’t try to stop me when I correct you.”

“Oh…” She pressed her lips together. Jack noticed her pressing her thighs together too.

Satisfied, he released her hair and cupped her cheek. “I think you want me to help you do the things you’re afraid to do, be the person people don’t expect you to be. That’s what you both want, isn’t it?”

Neither of them answered.

“That is the second time I’ve asked you something and you did not respond. Spencer doesn’t get to speak tonight, but Rory, I expect an answer when I ask you a question.”

She swallowed and then stood straight up and looked him in the eye, bold and ready for the challenge. “Yes.”

He grinned at her. “Good girl, Rory.” Later he would show her how good she could be. “Are we ready, then?” Jack asked them both. They nodded. Rory collected her small clutch purse from the dresser. Her inky blue silk dress hugged the round ass he’d been admiring since they met. He reached out. For now, just a touch to her hip to guide her toward the door would do. It was a soft yet deliberate press against her hip, guiding her with a measure of respect.

The respect Jack felt for Rory only made the idea of topping her more erotic. She was independent and strong, with an intellect only rivaled by her innocence. Curiosity radiated from her, and he was certain there was plenty she wanted to experience—only she’d not yet had the opportunity. For all her professed sexual confidence, Rory was as vanilla as they came. At least so far.

Jack smiled to himself, and let his thumb stroke the place on her neck where it met her spine as they reached the door. Being the master of her pleasure would be a privilege, which was a new concept for him as a Dom. In her eyes he saw trust. For the first time he wanted to be worthy of such trust. For the first time he actually thought he could be.

Spencer was right behind them. Jack reached back to grab his hand. It was given freely to him. Mute Spencer was as docile as a kitten. Oh wow, did he like having these two on his arm—on his proverbial leash—for the night. It was like Christmas, and he’d gotten everything he ever really wanted for a change.

* * *

Rory made small talk with the silver-haired woman standing next to her as she linked pinkies with Spencer. Champagne flowed. The strings of tiny white lights dazzled above her head in the crown of the banquet-sized tent. Tapping her toe on the wooden floor to the music while the big band played behind her, Rory nodded and smiled as the older woman to her left prattled on.

“Your boyfriend’s certainly a quiet one,” Frieda Weintraub said, peeking at Spencer over her champagne flute.

“Spencer has to save his voice. He’s an opera singer,” Rory replied with a straight face. Spencer snapped his head in her direction and she cut her eyes to the corner to steal a peek at his expression. It was all she could do to keep from bursting out laughing.

“Really? What company? Are you with the Met?”

Spencer shook his head.

“He’s with a small company from Mississippi,” Rory continued. “You haven’t heard opera until you’ve heard it with a Southern twang.” She was quickly losing the battle. Spencer pinched her in the side. The door on absurdity was wide open as far as she was concerned. Jack seemed to have placed Spencer under some kind of mind control with his decree for him not to speak, and Spencer hadn’t uttered a single word all night. No one would believe her—not that she had any intention of sharing a thing about this night with anyone, ever. Something about keeping all this a secret seemed really magical.

Frieda gave her a quizzical look, as if she was trying to figure out if Rory was full of shit. Rory shrugged. “Or would you believe he has laryngitis?”

Frieda wrinkled her nose and Rory reached out and touched her forearm with affection. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t resist.”

A faint smile played on Frieda’s lips, polite at best. Jack walked back over with two more champagne flutes and an arched eyebrow. “So, Frieda, I see you’ve met my friends.”

“Quite the sense of humor on this one.” Frieda chuckled softly. “Please tell your father I asked about him.”

No sooner had Frieda turned toward another partygoer than Jack placed his hand on Rory’s waist, holding her firmly in place as she waited for him to speak. He didn’t, at first. He just stared into her eyes, his expression narrowing with focus. She could feel the firm impressions of his fingers through the thin silk. Her back straightened. Without releasing her, Jack turned to Spencer. “Has your girlfriend been misbehaving?”

Spencer quirked his lip at her and nodded, exposing her without remorse.

Jack turned to Rory. “What did you say to my nosy neighbor to make her off and run like that?”

Rory felt her cheeks burn with what could have been described as shame if she wasn’t enjoying it so much. “I may have had a little fun with her.”

Jack squeezed her waist with just enough pressure to make her know he still had hold of her. “Tell me what you said.” His stare was intense, but his dawning grin revealed his amusement.

“It was silly.”

“Did you say anything, Spencer?”

Spencer shook his head. Rory spoke for him. “He was good. He didn’t make a peep.”

“So, let me get this straight. Spencer was good and you were not.” He leaned close to her with a telling grin, raising the hairs on the back of her neck. “That means punishment for you, and a treat for Spencer.”

“Punishment?”

“You refuse to let me in on the little joke you had with Frieda.”

Rory felt her heart start to pound. Fear? Excitement? Both. Definitely both. “I played like Spencer was in the opera. Told her he had to save his voice.”

“Too late. You’re still in trouble.” Jack’s expression was unreadable—controlled would have been an accurate way to describe it. Powerful. Sexy as hell could also qualify. His voice dipped about an octave, firmer than a whisper but still meant for her ears alone. “Take off your bra.”

Rory felt the air escape the atmosphere. “What? Here?” She hastily peered at the elegant and fashionable partygoers huddled in small clusters around her, chatting it up before dinner.

“I think you have way too much clothing on. It would be my choice to have you naked around me all the time. But if I can’t, I at least want to see your nipples perk up under your dress.”

“I’ll go to the bathroom…”

His brows knitted together. “No, here.” He slipped his finger under the strap on her shoulder. “Now.”

Rory glanced at Spencer, who shifted just slightly, licked his lips, and then swallowed hard. Jack tracked her gaze.

“Don’t worry if Spencer is cool with this. Take a look at his dick. It will tell you all you need to know.”

Rory looked down and Jack moved Spencer’s hands from their folded position in front of his zipper. He was swollen there, the start of an impressive erection.

“Have you any ideas about how I’ll be able to do it without being seen?”

“It’s dimly lit in here; everyone is wrapped up in their own conversations. No guarantees though, Rory. Someone could see you and disapprove. They could think you’re a dirty little slut.”

That brought sparking heat to Rory’s cheeks. Spencer frowned at Jack, his stance suddenly rigid. Rory placed a hand on his chest. “Who cares what they think, right?” she said, feeling a pull of something thick and wicked inside her.

“Get closer to her.” Jack instructed Spencer to step up behind her while Jack closed in from the front. They huddled around her closer than would be deemed polite to the casual observer. Jack reached around and pinched the latch of Rory’s bra through her dress, releasing it with effortless skill. One strap fell off her shoulder and Rory quickly placed her hand on it.

“I can’t do this.” The band continued to play behind them, blending with the constant murmur of mingling acquaintances. Everything was suddenly quite loud, including her heartbeat. Spencer placed his hand over hers and squeezed softly.

“We can stop right now. Say the word,” Jack prompted with a whisper in her ear. Prompted her or taunted her? She wasn’t sure.

“I don’t want to stop.”

“Be brave then.”

She wanted to be brave and bold, and find the audacity to be inappropriate and reckless. And she could be, sandwiched between a man she loved and a man she trusted. They were her safety net, surrounding her with their sharply dressed bodies, firm and sure. It didn’t matter what anyone else thought, did it? This was their game and theirs alone. She could do this. Of course she could.

Rory moved with slow grace, shrugging her shoulder up to her ear and pressing her head to the side as she dragged the thin elastic strap down her arm. The movement stretched her neck long as her hair fell away.

Spencer nudged in closer, his cock pressing into Rory’s ass. He dragged a finger over the length of her collarbone. His warm breath soon traced the line of chills he’d inspired. She looked over her shoulder at him, but he was looking at Jack.

“You have permission to kiss her,” Jack told him. Only then did his lips fall onto her neck with a tiny flick of his tongue, igniting her insides.

She reached back for his thigh, taking a handful of iron muscle. “Oh, Spencer…”