Thigh High (18 page)

She believed it. Now.

“I'd have trampled over you to get to him, but he's never given me a second look. He's yours, Kat. All you need to do is reel him in.”

“You think?”

“I've never had a chance with Taye. He made that clear right after he moved in and got a good look at you. He's been lovestruck for weeks.”

Her heart rate kicked up a notch. Hope grew. “Last night we were really talking for the first time, and when you called, it interrupted things.”

T
aye wasn't home when Kat got back from delivering her party orders. Nor did he come home all evening. It was close to midnight by the time she heard him arrive. Too late to go to her door to catch him on the way in. Instead, she rolled over to her side, pulled the sheet over her head and tried to sleep.

She heard the muted sounds of water running while he prepared for bed. He wasn't usually gone all day Saturday, so she couldn't help wondering where he'd been. Or who he'd been with. She wanted it to be her.

All the time.

The expression on his face when he'd thought Celia was planning to sleep with a married guy shouldn't have surprised Kat as much as it did. With his father's infidelity so fresh on his mind, his expression had said he couldn't stand the sight of Celia.

Last night, she'd believed that Celia had only accepted a lift home, but now she knew different. Even Celia wasn't sure how far things would have gone with the married man. Kat's stomach twisted at the thought and she wanted to talk to Taye. To tell him he'd been right to be suspicious of Celia's behavior.

Who was she kidding? She just wanted Taye. To talk to, to sleep with, to have. Celia's comment about Taye being lovestruck and his own admission about being tongue-tied around her made her think Taye felt the same way she did.

Hmm. What to do, what to do.

After climbing out of bed, she put her ear to the wall and listened until the water stopped running. He'd be about ready to climb into bed now, she thought.

She'd fantasized deliciously about being the mysterious stranger who climbed in his window.

One more wild escapade called to her. Then she was through with wild. Really.

She went to her bedroom window, opened it and stepped out onto the shingled overhang that projected across the front stoops. Taye's window was only five feet away. She clung to the window ledge as she inched her way across the scratchy shingles.

Cool air gusted up to her ass under her filmy nightie, while the shingles tingled under her bare feet. Her fingers turned to claws as she held on for dear life.

But she felt more alive, more daring than she'd ever felt in her life. Her heart thudded in her ears, moisture pooled inside her, slick and needy.

The shy woman she used to be would never actually do this. But the Kat she was today was brave enough, adventurous enough to try anything to get to Taye.

She tried to lift his window from the outside, but the landlord had been security conscious on the second floor as well. She had no choice but to tap on the glass, holding her breath that he'd hear her.

A dark shadow loomed in the room. “Kat! What the hell?” He opened the window and clasped both her wrists. He pulled and shifted and tried to get her inside any which way he could.

His worried concern was not part of her fantasy.

The window was supposed to open silently to allow her to creep in. “Shhh!” she hushed. “I'm a mysterious stranger bent on seduction.”

“Have you lost your mind?”

“No. Well, maybe. A little.” Her heart. She'd lost her heart but couldn't tell him that. It was crazy!

Her foot caught on the window frame and she tumbled into him. His hands grabbed her forearms. Then he dragged her into his chest and kissed her hard.

“Good God, what were you thinking climbing around out there?”

“I've wanted to climb in your window for months. Climb in and have my way with you.”

“You want to have your way with me?” He sounded amused but it was dark so she couldn't see his expression. It was kind of hot to imagine his eyes filling with male focus. “You could have knocked on my door or called me on the phone.”

“That's not nearly as much fun. You probably think I'm quite the adventuress but I'm not.” Her eyes were adjusted now and she could make out his mouth and the dark gleam in his eyes.

“Adventuress?”

“That's right. You think I'm sexy and bold, but in reality, I'm quiet.” It was such a relief to admit the truth.

“Shy?”

“That too.”

He held her close. “Okay, Kat, what's going on? Did Celia put you up to this?” He peered out the window, suspicion clouding his words.

“Of course not. It's time we cleared the air.”

“About what?”

She bit her lip and plunged in, worries be damned. “About what you think of me, who I am, and who and what I've been pretending to be.”

“Okay.” He looked bemused again, but willing to listen.

“I'm not a wild woman.” She blinked. “In spite of climbing through your window.” He was still listening. “I'm not promiscuous and I don't engage in casual sex. In fact, you're the first casual encounter I've ever had.”

He tilted his head, and his lips twitched. “Why do you say it was casual?”

That took her aback. “Well, wasn't it? For you, I mean.”

He reached for her shoulders. The heat of his wide palms filled her. “No, sex is never casual for me. I like commitment, Kat. In fact, that's what I'm looking for.”

“I was afraid to let you see how much I liked you and wanted a relationship because I made that mistake before, with my ex. I put too much emphasis on marriage and ended up divorced. If I'd only just gone with the flow, enjoyed the sex, and then moved on the way most first loves do, I wouldn't be divorced today. I pushed for more than he was willing to give because I didn't want sex to be a—a—bodily function!”

“Where did you get that idea?”

“From Celia. That's what she calls sex. A bodily function.”

“Come here.” He dragged her into his arms and kissed her deeply. “Sex with you is serious, Kat. And that's exactly what I love about you.”

She sighed against his lips. “Stop talking now and kiss me again.”

He did. For a long luscious moment their mouths touched, tongues tangled, lips sought. His hand cupped her breast and she moaned for more.

His cock rose hard against the flat plane of her belly and she pressed to feel more of him against her. “You love this about me?”

“I love that you believe sex belongs in a relationship. That it's important to you that you share your body with a man you care for, who cares for you. I feel the same way.”

“You looked so upset with Celia when you heard it was a married guy who took her into the hospital.”

“My father treated my mother like a convenience while he ran around on her. I want more from relationships than sex, Kat. But I wanted you so bad I was willing to bury my doubts and let lust take over.”

“That's how I felt too. Willing to set aside my better judgment just to be with you.”

He frowned and growled. “Climbing out onto the roof certainly constitutes lack of judgment.”

“I won't do it again. Promise. Still, there was something exciting about it.”

He tilted his head back to search her gaze. His eyes lit with desire. “Now that I've got you safe in my arms, I'll admit you looked damned cute tapping on the glass. Your hair was being tossed in the wind and your nightie was fluttering around your thighs. Tell me more about this fantasy of yours.”

“Okay.” She heated. “I climb in the window silently and find you asleep on the bed.”

“Like this?” He climbed into bed and pulled the covers up to his chin.

“Silly, you're not supposed to be facedown. You have to be faceup for this to work.” While he rolled to his back, she moved to the foot of the bed. Her lowest belly tingled with need.

The sheet tented at his crotch. Her mouth watered.

“Now what?” he asked, his voice low and intimate with sexual need.

“I start at your toes and work my way up to your knees with my tongue. Eventually, I'll get to your cock. Take it in my mouth—”

He sat up, cutting her off. “That won't work.”

She sighed, exasperated. “Why not?”

“My feet are so ticklish I'll probably kick you in the face.”

“Check! No tickling.” She grabbed both his feet and gave them a strong squeeze. He jerked. “This is my fantasy and I want it,” she demanded.

“Far be it from me to ruin a good fantasy.”

“When we're done with mine, you can have one of yours.”

“The only one I have is of you, marrying me.”

Her breath caught, but she held onto his feet and squeezed again. “Like I said, I get my fantasy, you get yours.” She whooped when he slid to the end of the bed and grabbed her. Rolling her to her back, he settled between her thighs.

His cock nudged into her wet warmth. “Let me love you, Kat, the way I want to. Forever.”

To Ann Roth, whose kindness and generosity helped find
the setting for Perdition House.
My deepest appreciation.

T
he line of cabs moved slowly toward the mansion's wrought iron gates. Matt Crewe tapped his knee in impatience as each car ahead of his inched along in turn as, one by one, they disappeared up a driveway covered over by pine boughs. Without warning the cab ahead of his stopped three cars back from the gates and the rear passenger door opened to allow a woman to exit.

She paid her fare at her driver's open window. Highlighted in the headlights, she was fine featured and dressed for comfort. Her movements were briskly efficient as she handed over some bills and waved away the change. Walking shoes and blue jeans topped by a bright red fleece surprised him. He'd expected to see women dressed in silk and satin designed to tease and entice.

But then it wasn't the women who would be on the auction block, now was it, he noted with a bitter smile. It would be men. And Matt was one of them.

He tapped his driver on the shoulder. “She's got the right idea. It'll be faster if I walk,” he said. The woman picked up a laptop case and an overnight bag and made for the gates on foot. If he was lucky he'd catch up to her before she reached the mansion. Whoever she was, he wanted to talk to her.

As he cleared the gates and took his first step onto the grounds of Perdition House, the enormity of what he planned grabbed him by the cock.

Selling himself. A sex-filled weekend with a woman he'd never met. Would never see again. Desire rose at the thought, hot and insistent. A slight breeze kicked up, snatching at his hair, pressing his jeans against his legs.

The woman he trailed stopped about twenty feet ahead, then dropped her overnight bag to the ground at her feet. The laptop case went next, but she was more careful of it. Then she stretched her arms out in front of her and shook her hands as if to get the blood flowing again. She rubbed her arms from shoulders to wrists, even stamped her feet into the soft pine needles that cushioned the driveway.

She was foot-stomping cold while he was fine. More than fine if his hardening cock was any indication. He hurried to catch up to her.

More cabs arrived, inching along beside him toward the house. If not for the headlights the driveway would be pitch black.

Ten feet to go and the breeze turned cold, drove hard right through his leather jacket and jeans, leaving him numb but strangely alive. As if every sense he had was on high alert. The woman suddenly wrapped her arms around her waist in the age-old gesture that signaled a need for warmth. God he wanted to wrap her up and hold her. The thought came from nowhere, and everywhere.

His own arms tingled from shoulders to fingertips, and all he wanted was to reach her, enfold her in his arms and share whatever body heat she needed. Then he wanted to lay her out and take her. Heat her up to boiling.

The impulse to drag her into the bushes and get her jeans off came sudden and hard. Hot damn he was horny. Randy as a teenager. Must be the woman. Either that or the purpose of the weekend was getting to him.

He tugged at his collar to release some of his pent-up heat, but it didn't help. He hurried the last few steps, happy to get the weekend off to a good start.

“Hello,” he said as he reached her side.

She was startled but smiled back at him. “Hello. Are you the talent?” Her tone was bold as a shore-leave sailor's. She assessed him while she flapped her arms around her middle.

“Apparently. One of them anyway. You're here to bid?”

“Yes.” Her glance heated as she let her gaze travel from his face down to his hikers.

What he saw when she looked back into his eyes was approval.

A small worry drifted away. He'd done everything in his power to be included on the auction block this weekend and it looked like he passed muster.

“Matt Crewe,” he said, “very pleased to meet you.”

“Carrie MacLean,” she said with a nod and smile. “Sorry about the talent comment, it was rude. I'm not sure what came over me, but as soon as I walked through the gates…” She looked back at them, but the entrance to the driveway was obscured by pine boughs.

“Cold?” he asked.

She released her arms. She unzipped her fleece to mid-chest, then loosened her collar the way he had. “No, I was freezing a moment ago, but now I'm hot as can be.”

“You can say that again,” he muttered as he bent to pick up her overnight bag. “I'll carry this for you,” he offered.

“Thanks!”

The cabs spread ahead and behind them as people arrived at an orderly pace. She watched every car that went past with interest. “Do you see the optical illusion?”

“You mean the boughs swaying away from the noses of the cars?”

“Yes. It's odd. I don't think I've ever seen anything like it.”

He shrugged. “Like you said, it's just an illusion.” But his sexual arousal was real as real could get. His cock strained behind his fly.

She glanced up at him, her eyes catching reflected light as it bounced off the tree limbs. “Yes, an illusion. Have you been here before, Matt?”

“No, this is my first time.”

“Me too.”

“Virgins, then.”

She chuckled. “In a manner of speaking.” There was just enough room at the side of the driveway for them to walk side by side. They took it.

He wanted to understand the colors at play in her hair, see the smoothness of her cheeks, how straight her teeth were, the level of intelligence in her gaze, but the on-again, off-again lighting only allowed for glimpses.

No matter, he'd see her soon enough. See her and know her in ways he could barely fathom. He wasn't prone to fanciful thoughts, but he did know gut reaction, and his gut was screaming full speed ahead with her.

Lights from the house began to appear between the trees ahead, and they rounded one more curve. The driveway curved directly in front of a three-story Victorian mansion aglow with welcome. She caught her breath at the sight, and he wondered what she'd sound like in the throes of passion. He was determined to find out.

“Perdition House,” she said. “A weekend of rest and relaxation awaits us both.”

“You could call it that.” He called it a sex club, pure and simple. But if she wanted to keep to her own illusions she was welcome to them. “This is where we part company, Carrie MacLean. The hired help is expected to enter through a side entrance.”

“See you later?”

“Yes, you will.”

She put her hand on his sleeve and looked up at him. He felt a punch of desire to his gut he fully accepted. “I'm already looking forward to it,” she said. She licked her lips, and the power of the simple gesture undid him.

He headed across the drive before he dragged her into the well-tended rosebushes.

 

An hour and a half later, Matt slid the bow tie through the collar around his neck and tied it perfectly on his first attempt. He took stock in the mirror. His face had been shaved to baby ass smooth. “Not bad,” he muttered, skimming his gel-slicked hair.

The guy next to him snorted as he also checked his reflection. In the mirror he flashed Matt an apologetic grin as he stuffed a sock down the front of his tuxedo pants. “Gotta advertise, man, that's the name of the game.”

Matt shrugged. “What the hell.” Then he shifted his cock and balls to show them to the best advantage too. He shot his cuffs and adjusted his collar with a sideways glance at the sock.

Then he looked at his own package again. He bulged behind his fly, hard since he stepped through the gates. If he was honest, the blood started to gather the minute he saw Carrie climb out of the cab ahead of him. No idea why, because he wasn't here for the sex. He was here for the truth. But still, he had more to offer than sock man.

From the looks Carrie had given him, she was just as interested in Matt as he was in her. Convenient since he planned to fuck her senseless all weekend.

A bell over the door chimed a warning, and Matt turned toward the door with the rest of the men. Twelve in all. Mostly randy college kids but for a couple of guys who looked like pros. The pros were older, jaded and cool, ready to serve. To a man, they were tall, muscular, good looking, with granite jaws and perfect teeth.

And all for sale. Even him. He'd sold himself for the truth. And if he had to, he'd lie himself to hell to get it.

He waited his turn to leave the library-cum-dressing room and felt his years. He was just as buff but noticeably older than the randy college boys. He couldn't gauge what the pros were thinking stacked up against this kind of competition. At twenty-eight, he shouldn't feel old, but a wall of jocks in their early twenties could remind a man of his unfulfilled ambitions.

In his yearlong hunt for sex clubs, Perdition House was the only one he'd found that catered exclusively to heterosexual women. He'd been damn lucky to find it too. A maze of misinformation existed even though the place was relatively new. Someone had covered their tracks from the very beginning, and covered them well.

As for being the
talent,
as Carrie had called him, he'd had to go through hoops to secure his spot. Having a clear criminal record was just the beginning. Strict guidelines and criteria weeded out sexually inferior male specimens.

Only the best men found their way onto the auction block. References were checked, health certificates required and even a psychological test was given to screen out potentially violent men.

The women who paid top dollar for these weekend sex marathons expected the best. The best was exactly what the owner of Perdition House, Faye Grantham, gave her clients. That the weekends occurred under the guise of charity auctions was beside the point to him.

Aside from his need to research the place, Matt was pumped that he'd been selected.

Which went a long way to easing him past his most recent failure with The G Spot, the only club he hadn't managed to infiltrate. Lesbians didn't want him nosing around. Go figure.

Eventually, he would deal with that minor problem, but right now he had to get through this weekend. In all the other clubs he'd found, he'd been an observer.

But not this time. The only way he could get in was in the guise of a full participant. He would stand on an auction block and be purchased for a weekend of hot sex with a woman he would never see again.

He'd never been turned on by the whole sex slave fantasy, so his arousal and interest surprised him. But there was no other reason for his hard-on since coming through the gates.

If his luck held, he'd be Carrie MacLean's sex slave. He rubbed his smooth jaw and thought about her giving him orders. Maybe he should rethink his stand on bondage.

He imagined himself on his knees wearing a heavy black collar being told to lick Carrie's boots. He chuckled at the vision of her walking shoes as she'd stamped them into a bed of pine needles. Nah, not his bag. He'd break out into laughter and wreck the mood.

Whatever the weekend held, he would be matched up with a woman with similar sexual predilections. The quiz on preferences had pretty much covered every sexual situation known to man.

For Matt, sex was about mutual enjoyment. Equal pleasure for each partner. He liked wild, raunchy, fast and hard. Raw was good. Hard was great. Fast had to be mutual. But slow? Slow was best.

Having a boot on his throat? Being strapped down? Not so much.

He wasn't the kind of guy to be at anyone's beck and call. Ever. For anything. That's why he'd been given red silk boxer briefs for the actual bidding. No dog collars or leather for him. Wasn't his style.

The tuxedos were to be worn during the cocktail party mixer so the women had a chance to talk with the men. But the auction was where the real truth came out. Some of these guys would be dressed dominant. Some would show themselves as submissive. Blue bikinis meant multiples welcome.

As far as he knew the red boxer briefs he'd be wearing indicated he liked his sex straight, one on one, and often.

Worked for him.

He slanted a glance at sock man. False advertising wasn't his style either.

Carrie was his style, with her sensible shoes and practical fleece. She was not the kind of woman he'd expected to find here. A spike of need rose through his belly to his chest at the thought of what the weekend with Carrie would bring.

The men around him quieted into an expectant silence. Some checked out the books on the shelves while a couple others sat at a games table set up with chessmen. Matt leaned against the dark oak wainscoting and settled in to wait.

A cold draft seeped through the wall where his shoulder touched, then traced down his body with icy fingers. Those fingers settled south of his belt and his cock responded with a full-blooded howl of delight. He closed his eyes to better enjoy the sudden sensation. His balls tightened, chest heaved, blood rushed and pumped. Full-out arousal made him sensitive to everything around him.

He tugged at his collar for air, then adjusted his slacks to hide his raging woody. If any of the men in the room thought it was for them, he was doomed.