A Wildly Seductive Night: (Seductive Nights: Julia & Clay Book 3.5) Page 7

  “Yeah? How do you know?” he asked as she tugged at the waistband of his briefs.

  “You’re an ass man, Clay.”

  “I’m an everything man, Julia,” he corrected.

  “Then have everything,” she said, gesturing to her body.

  A groan worked its way up his chest as he stared at her giving herself to him. All of him.

  “Besides,” she added, wiggling her eyebrows, “I have a feeling I might like it, too. I do enjoy when your tongue ventures there, and I love what you did with your fingers on the deck.”

  “You get so fucking wet when I play with your ass.”

  “I know.” She patted the bed. “Let’s get this anniversary started.”

  Though he’d happily forgo her bottom for the rest of time, if she was offering the one part of her he’d never had, he was taking it. He wanted her mouth, he wanted her tits, he wanted her pussy, and he wanted her ass. Tonight, the most forbidden part of her was on the menu, and no fucking way was Clay Nichols ordering anything else.

  She pushed down his pants and briefs, and he toed off his shoes and socks and stood naked before her. He gripped his dick in his hand and stroked, knowing how much she liked to watch. If she was giving him something he desperately craved, the least he could do was make sure she was as turned on as she’d ever been.

  The second his hand stroked down his shaft, her breathing picked up. Her eyes widened, going glossy as he jerked himself.

  “You like that? Does that heat up your pussy, gorgeous?”

  “So much,” she said, her eyes drifting between her legs.

  What a glorious sight. And it was made even more scorching when she dropped her hand between her thighs, played with her clit, and spread her lips wide for him.

  Showing him.

  Oh hell. Lust pumped at Mach speed in him as he stroked. She was inches away, so he brought his dick to her face, and rubbed the head over her bottom lip. Her tongue darted out, flicking over him.

  Felt so fucking good.

  He pulled back, letting her watch, since he knew this turned her into an inferno. This was her pleasure, part of her foreplay, and she could have anything she wanted from him. Scooting back on the bed, she rested on her elbows, gazing slack-jawed at his hand shuttling up and down his shaft.

  “Look at how you already made me wetter,” she murmured.

  “Even after what I did to you on the balcony?” he asked as he pumped his dick into his hand.

  She nodded, her eyes glinting with wild desire. “Feel me. Rub your cock against me.”

  Desire ricocheted through him as he climbed over her, and she parted her legs.

  “Fuck, Julia.” He groaned at the view of her, wide open and turned on. She glistened. Her pussy was slick with her own arousal. He rubbed the head of his cock against her. Jesus Christ, she was fantastic. Lush and wet, like paradise. He wanted to sink into her, fuck her ’til she came around his cock, then loosen up her ass and take her there.

  Come to think of it, that sounded like a fine idea.

  “I’m going to fuck you first, gorgeous. Lube me up with all this wetness. Make my dick so fucking wet from your pussy,” he said, and shoved into her in one smooth motion.

  She cried out and wrapped her legs around his back instantly, tugging him closer. Her arms found his neck, and she laced her hands around him. He stroked in and out, her hot walls clamping down on his shaft. Pleasure ripped through his body, but he fought it off because no way was he coming now. Not a chance in hell. His mission—get her off. He wanted his Julia bathed in orgasms, one right after the other.

  He braced on his forearms and lowered his mouth to her ear. “I know that Sazerac relaxed you nice and good, but I’m thinking another orgasm ought to do the trick, too. You?”

  “Go for a double,” she moaned.

  He swept his tongue along her earlobe, driving his dick into her, making sure his shaft rubbed against her clit as he fucked her. “Say the words. Say make me come, and I’ll give it to you how you like it.”

  “Oh God, make me come, make me come, make me come.”

  And he fucked her hard and deep, stabbing his cock into her hot wetness ’til she dug her nails into his shoulders and keened a loud, earth-shattering scream as she climaxed.

  A tremor of pleasure coursed down his spine, and he forced himself to freeze, stilling his body, gritting his teeth. He pulled out.

  “You’re almost ready,” he said, reaching for the bottle and flipping open the cap.

  With her all loose and warm from her second orgasm, he spread her legs wider. He drizzled some lube on his fingers, rubbed two together to warm it up, then lowered his hand between her legs, pressing the pad of his finger against her rear. She bit her lip.

  “Okay?” he asked.

  “Definitely.”

  He pressed, feeling her tense briefly as he pushed past the ring of muscles. Then she arched up, lifting her hips. He smiled, a wicked grin spreading across his face. “You like that?”

  “I do,” she said on a panting breath.

  Not a surprise there. She’d liked it when he’d fingered her while eating her sweet pussy on the deck. Still, something about her liking it now, when it was just his finger, when he was prepping her for his cock, turned him on even more. The very notion that his beautiful, brilliant, sensual wife wanted to explore the boundaries of pleasure rocked him to the core. It wasn’t even about the baseness of the act. It wasn’t even the carnality that turned him on.

  “Another finger,” she whispered hotly, urging him on. “You need to get me ready.”

  He laughed. “Yeah, I suppose one finger won’t do the trick.”

  She shivered as he played with her ass. “Pretty sure,” she said, then drew a sharp breath as he pushed deeper. “That,” she said on another moan, as her eyes rolled closed. “Your cock is many, many fingers wide. And I want it all.”

  Fucking inferno. That was what he was right now. She’d struck the match, and he burned. That was what turned him on the most. Her willingness to try made his blood shoot to scorching temperatures.

  He coated his fingers in more of the lube and returned them to her rear, and this time, they slid in easily. His dick throbbed as she took him. Then his cock ached as she moaned, lifting her hips subtly and arching into him. She dipped her hand between her legs, playing with her clit.

  Jesus Christ, she was a fucking dream.

  She wasn’t kidding about wanting to try tonight. He’d never ventured this far, this deep inside her ass without fucking or licking her pussy at the same time, but she was taking care of that. He focused on her ass right now, making sure to get her ready and as comfortable as possible, pushing in and out with his fingers.

  “That feel good, Julia?”

  “So good, so good,” she moaned, her voice smoky, her expression clouded with lust. “I want you now.”

  Gently, he removed his fingers, wiped them on the towel she’d left on the bed, then set to work coating his cock in the lube. She sat up and joined him, rubbing his shaft ’til he was a slippery motherfucker.

  “How do you want me?” she asked.

  “In every way.”

  “I know. I mean right now. Which position?”

  He laughed lightly and then gently pressed a palm to her belly, pushing her back down to the bed. “All you have to do is spread your legs for me. I’ll take care of the rest.”

  And she did, her knees falling to the mattress, her legs wide open.

  He kneeled between them, his chest upright. With his clean hand, he rubbed his thumb over the delicious rise of her clit, watching the expression on her face shift to total pleasure. Gripping his cock in his other hand, he rubbed the head against her wet pussy, then lower, ’til he hit the place he wanted to be.

  She was virginal to him here.

  Untouched. Though he harbored no virgin fantasies, he did have countless dirty dreams about fucking his wife’s ass. He was a dirty bastard after all, and a greedy one, and he wanted the o
ne part of her he’d never had.

  So as his thumb gently played with her clit, his dick pushed against her rear. She flinched but then nodded. Permission to enter. He eased inside. Just the tip.

  “Oh,” she moaned, but her lips twisted.

  “You okay?”

  “Just different,” she said roughly. “Don’t stop.”

  “You sure?”

  She grabbed his arms. “Don’t you dare stop now.”

  That was all he needed, and he pushed in more, letting her adjust inch by inch to his length. She writhed and shifted.

  Then, she nearly grunted out a “holy fuck.”

  “Good or bad?” he asked quickly.

  “Just full,” she said, with gritted teeth. “Really full.”

  He stilled in her, giving her all the time she needed as he stroked her clit, paying attention to the part that drove her pleasure, making sure her body was flooded with delicious sensations as well as the new and different ones.

  At some point, her breathing evened out, her lips parted, and her hips rose up. Her body accepted him, and it was fucking incredible.

  His eyes swung to the view in front of him—his cock fully nestled in her. He was inside her ass at last, and it felt primal. Tight, hot, and so fucking dirty.

  His mind spun in a million lustful directions. He moved slowly, stroking in and out, one hand grasping her hip, the other zoned in on her clit. Her body gripped him, holding him tight, and he’d never felt anything so hot and dark before. It was tension, it was fire . . . it was a whole new realm of pleasure. And he could look at her gorgeous face, gaze into her eyes, feel her underneath him, moving and grinding into him.

  “We good?”

  “So good,” she moaned.

  “I love it,” he growled as he pivoted his hips and drove into her. “You’re so fucking tight.”

  She shot him a dirty grin. “And you love it.”

  “So fucking much. Can’t get enough of you. Now I get to have all of you.”

  “You have me, Clay. You have me,” she said, rocking her hips into him as he rubbed her clit.

  Somehow, he’d always pictured putting her on all fours, taking her with that sort of roughness, but this was better. They had complete freedom with each other to explore all their desires, to say no to what they didn’t want, to say yes to what they did crave, and to do it without guilt, or hang-ups, or concerns. Just them, here in their home, testing their limits and expanding the boundaries of their physical love.

  This was everything he’d hoped it would be.

  It was hot, and dirty, and it was true. Sweat beaded on his chest, and his body burned with heat, with desire, and with this raging lust. The tightness was like a glove, and he knew his own release wasn’t far away.

  “Come again, Julia. Come again beneath me.”

  “I will, baby. I will,” she said as he stroked faster, his thumb flicking her clit in a frenzy. Her moans pitched higher, and at that moment, he thrust a finger inside her wetness. Her neck tensed, and her mouth fell open. Soon, she was writhing like a wild thing, coming undone on his hand, and he couldn’t hold back.

  He fucked her through her orgasm as his own release surged down his spine, her sounds driving him on. Her body clamped down on him, hugging his dick until he unraveled, pleasure surging, spreading, lighting him up everywhere as he came hard in her, his entire body shuddering from the pure, electric intensity.

  He was spent, exhausted, and lit up from fucking the love of his life in a whole new way.

  A few minutes later, he ran a warm bath while he took her to the shower, cleaning her up and washing himself off her before he scooped her up and brought her to the tub, joining her. She snuggled against him as water sloshed around them.

  “Does it hurt?”

  “I’m not going to lie and say no.”

  “So it hurts?” he asked, running his fingers over her shoulders.

  “I’m sore, but it also felt incredible.”

  He wrapped his arms around her wet body. “Thank you. I love my gift.”

  “Had a feeling you would. But I hope you don’t mind that I’m not in the mood to go to a restaurant now and sit down on a hard, wooden chair.”

  He cracked up. “You can curl up on the couch, and I’ll order us some food.”

  And that was how they spent their anniversary—eating Thai food from the carton, watching Ocean’s Eleven on TV, and enjoying the aftereffects of some pretty fantastic sex.

  18

  This was the moment of truth.

  The cameramen captured the press of bodies and the noise of the crowd inside the Lucky Spot. Patrons jostled for prime position at the bar, and random bar-goers were picked to vote on the drinks. Julia watched from a corner table, parked next to her husband, as well as Spencer and Charlotte.

  Byron had arranged for the taste test to judge the drink contest to happen here at Spencer and Charlotte Holiday’s bar.

  Julia squirmed in her chair.

  Charlotte patted her hand. “Don’t worry. You’ll do great.”

  But Julia wasn’t worried about the competition. She was a tad sore. She’d rather liked what she and her husband had done, and she had a hunch she was going to want to go again soon. Maybe she’d become a little back-door junkie. But really, that wasn’t a bad thing. Julia didn’t judge her sexuality, or others for what they liked in bed. Some might call her a dirty girl; some might call him a filthy man. Maybe they were, and maybe they weren’t. What did it matter, though, if somebody liked it vanilla, if someone liked some kink, if a person liked it risky, if they liked it dirty? Who cared whether she wanted it slow and tender, or rough and ready?

  At the end of the day, Julia believed that screwing between two consenting adults was a good thing. Sex could tether two people and bond them in a beautiful way. For Julia and Clay, passion was their favorite pastime. Some couples liked golf, some played bridge, and some binge-watched TV shows. For them? Sex was their hobby.

  And so, she was a little squirmy. But at least she’d learned the secret trick to her new favorite thing in bed. A good stiff drink helped her take a big thick cock.

  Charlotte looked at Julia expectantly. Oh, right. Her friend thought she was tense about the contest. Julia laughed to herself then answered with, “Just a bit of nerves.”

  Clay draped an arm around her, and she spent the rest of the evening watching the patrons at this fine Manhattan establishment test the Gin Fiesta and Julia’s riff on a Sazerac.

  When the night wound down, Byron called Julia and JT to join him at the bar.

  “It was an epic battle, but we’re ready to tally the votes now,” he said to the camera, glancing at JT, who smirked, then at Julia, who flashed a smile. Byron cleared his throat and spoke to the crowd. “All in favor of the Gin Fiesta?”

  Throngs of patrons raised their hands, and Byron’s assistant producer counted them all. Julia held her breath, and crossed her fingers as the producer announced the headcount. Fifty-two.

  “And now, who here prefers the new version of the original cocktail?”

  More hands thrust in the air.

  Counting heads wasn’t Julia’s specialty, so she did her best to wait for the result, pleased that she’d given this impromptu drink contest her best shot. Even if her creation didn’t win, she’d gladly serve it at Speakeasy. She was confident it would nab new fans at her bar, because it was not only delicious, it was also purposeful.

  “By the way, Julia,” Byron said, “as we wait for the final count, I don’t believe we ever had a name for your drink. Are we just calling it riff on a Sazerac?”

  But before she could bless her beverage with a name, he held up his finger. “Looks like we’ve got a number.” He leaned close to his assistant who whispered in his ear.

  “And that’s sixty-seven to fifty-two in favor of the Sazerac riff!”

  Julia beamed. Something like glee raced through her body, chased by the satisfaction of a job well done. She wasn’t a one-hit wonder, she still
had her mojo, and her love for her husband had helped her nail a winning combo.

  Byron clapped a hand on her shoulder. “Now what was the name of the drink?”

  Julia spotted Clay across the room. His beautiful brown eyes held her captive, watching her, knowing her, wanting her.

  Without breaking his gaze, she answered Byron, on the fly, with a name.

  The only name she could possibly give that drink.

  “I call it . . . the Happy Anniversary Honey.”

  Epilogue

  A few months later

  The jet soared over the Atlantic, and his daughter cuddled up next to him in the first-class leather seats. Julia had conked out, and somehow Carly had snuggled between them. She tossed another playing card in the pile on his tray.

  “Go fish.”

  “Ah, you’re killing me, sweet pea. You’re killing me.”

  “I knew I could beat you at cards,” Carly said with a wide smile.

  “I’m going to have to teach you poker next.”

  His daughter’s eyes sparkled at that idea. “Like Mommy. I bet I’d be good like Mommy.”

  He tapped his finger to her nose. “I bet you would be, too. Just remember to play for fun.”

  She grinned. “Cards are fun. Trips are fun. Paris will be fun,” she said, and kissed his nose. “But are you sure Santa can find us in Paris?”

  “Of course. He knows you’ll be there for Christmas, and he’ll bring you a present there. And so will your mom and dad.”

  “Maybe Santa will bring me a new baby sister. That would be so fun,” she said.

  That was the first time she’d ever mentioned wanting a sibling, and there were zero plans to have one or even the hint of one under the tree, so to speak. Clay raised an eyebrow. “Probably not this year, but it can’t hurt to let him know.”

  Come to think of it, maybe she was onto something. While he was blissfully content as a trio, perhaps a quartet would be even more fun.