One Night Only: An After Dark Standalone in The Extravagant Series Page 8

  I set down the chopsticks and lean forward. “Listen, I get it. I know what you’re asking. We’re not there for each other. We are there for the woman.” I wiggle my brows. “You don’t have to tell me twice. I have played all sorts of roles in all sorts of trios, and I am down for anything. That’s just who I am,” I say with a happy shrug. “I give, I receive. I’m not into the machinery or the parts. I’m into the pleasure, the person. And tonight, if she says yes, that person will be the woman you are in mad, crazy love with.”

  Callum flips me the bird.

  I wave a hand. “The sooner you admit it, the happier you will be.”

  But he dodges the thorny issue of love, saying, “I need to run all this past her because she sets the rules, but the thing is—I have limits too. I don’t want you to fuck her. I don’t want you to kiss her. But I don’t think that’s what she wants either.”

  “Color me intrigued. What doth the lady want?”

  “I think we should hear it from her.”

  “My ears will be burning.” I lift my tea, take another drink, and then set it down with panache. “But my answer remains the same. Whatever she wants, I’m good. I am all good. Consider me all in for anything.”

  Callum offers a fist for knocking.

  I knock back.

  I didn’t just say yes because I love sex. Or even because I believe in pleasure in all shapes and forms. Nor did I say yes because I think kinks ought to be explored, acted upon, and played out all night long with people you trust. Only with people you trust.

  Though I do believe all that. Fervently.

  I said yes because this three-way tryst gets my friend one step closer to the woman of his dreams. If I can help by-the-book, duty-above-all Callum see how much he needs to be with her, I’ll have done a great service for the man.

  13

  Ivy

  I stare in the mirror in the women’s room, trying to read the person reflected back at me. Same eyes, same cheekbones, same straight teeth.

  I slick on my lip gloss, and try to understand how I can be this woman. Wearing a designer dress, running my parents’ hotel, hosting charity galas for the children’s hospital. Signing paychecks for all the thousands of employees flitting in and out of The Extravagant all day.

  But at night, I want to be someone else.

  I want to be the woman who says yes to a threesome.

  Or who goes to a sex club.

  Or who asks her lover to buy, I don’t know, nipple clamps.

  A rush of heat charges through me at that last one.

  Or really, at all three.

  I need to get it together.

  I need to reconcile these different versions of me.

  I leave the bathroom, and Russ is there outside, escorting me to the theater for one last check before the show. The event staff doesn’t need me for the details, but I want to say hello in case anyone has a last-minute question.

  Fortunately, no one does, but the second I spot Kate, I know what I need.

  Girlfriend time.

  I set a hand on her arm. “Do you have a couple minutes?”

  “Of course.”

  I steal her away to a private room off the theater, shutting the door. I draw a breath, then rip off the Band-Aid. “I need advice, and you’re the most open-minded person I know,” I blurt out.

  She smiles like the Mona Lisa. “I will take that as the highest compliment.”

  “Good. Because it is.” I swallow and try to push away the nerves. I’ve been raised to believe private is private; that’s why saying this is so hard.

  But I trust Kate.

  And I trust Callum.

  And even though I’ve kept my fantasies under lock and key, once I opened Pandora’s box, they all seemed to come tumbling out, along with my inhibitions at giving them voice.

  Besides, she knows what I read after dark. “There’s something I want, and I need to know if you think it’s silly or foolish. Or risky. Or . . . something I shouldn’t do because of who I am,” I say, worry tripping through me.

  “Talk to me. I’ll try to help,” she says, as calm as I need her to be.

  “I want to have a threesome,” I say, and just voicing it lifts a weight from my shoulders. Speaking the words aloud to someone besides Callum is more of a relief than I ever expected. More words tumble forth. “With Callum and a friend of his. And I want to live out all these fantasies I have. But is that something I shouldn’t do? I mean, I run a business, and I have employees, and I want to be respected.”

  She reaches for me, squeezes my hand. “Ivy, there is a simple answer and a complicated one, but they’re both the same.”

  My brow pinches. “Okay, what do you mean?”

  She tugs me to the leather couch, and we sit. “The answer is yes in both cases. Yes to doing it. If this is your fantasy, and you’re all consenting, you should do it. As long as you’re safe, and discreet.”

  I breathe a sigh of relief. “I wanted to say yes, but just needed to know that I could still be . . .”

  “A lady?”

  I dip my head, laughing. “Yes, a lady.”

  “You can be a lady, and you can be a vixen. You can be a boss, and you can be submissive. You can run this hotel like a badass, and get off to double-dicked alien porn at night if you want.”

  I arch a brow. “Is that the next book you’re gifting me?”

  “It might very well be.”

  “I’m looking forward to it already,” I say, and I can’t stop grinning. This is the first time in ages when I haven’t felt conflicted about my bedroom wants and my daily life.

  Well, the other time I felt free and unburdened was in my suite with Callum.

  “Sometimes I just wonder what it means that I have a public persona that’s perfectly put together, and a private life that’s wildly filthy.”

  “Welcome to being a woman who gets to own her sexuality.”

  I laugh. “I like the sound of that.”

  “Then you should absolutely go for it. You are allowed to fantasize. More than that, you are allowed to act. No one can put limits on you but yourself.”

  I relax.

  Truly relax.

  No nail tapping, no tension, no fidgeting. Then I admit one more thing. “Sometimes I think I don’t want any limits. Sometimes I think I want to explore so many things. And I want to explore them with my bodyguard.”

  She waves a hand in front of her face, like she’s fanning herself. “Girl, that got me hot just now.”

  We leave, and after I say goodbye, I send a text to Callum.

  Ivy: Yes. I want it all. Please.

  There’s an energy in the air. A buzzing. A hum.

  The sense that great things will happen tonight.

  That fans will be awed.

  That crowds will be wowed.

  And that this concert will be talked about for years.

  In my suite, I change into concert attire. Leather pants, heels, and a silver tank top. Smoky eyelids, winged eyeliner, long lashes, red lipstick.

  This time when I consider my reflection, I feel whole.

  Like all the parts inside me fit together.

  Before I go, I leave something on the bed. Something for tonight.

  And when I’m in Stone’s dressing room a little later, we outline the rules.

  Mine, Callum’s, and Stone’s.

  Callum goes first. “I’m the only one who fucks you. The only one who kisses you.”

  Tingles rush over my skin at his possessiveness. “I want that too.”

  His passion-filled eyes lock with mine. But I need to make sure his possession doesn’t go too far. “But, Callum, I want to touch Stone. I want to touch you both. Maybe at the same time. I want to suck you both off. Well, not at the same time for that.”

  Stone laughs. “That would be an impressive feat.”

  Callum cracks a grin.

  “Are you okay with that? Both of you?”

  Stone wiggles his brows in a yes. Callum nods, his gaz
e serious. “I’m okay with that. I had a feeling you’d want that,” he says, sliding an arm around my waist, tugging me close to him. I shiver from his touch, and from the reality that we are touching again. I don’t know how much we’ll touch after tonight, but I can’t focus beyond the here and now.

  I want to live in the moment for once in my life. Not in my head. But in my body. “Beyond that, I don’t have many limits. I don’t want to be demeaned, but you can both be rough with me, mark me, because I want to be submissive to desire. I want kink and some filth.”

  His hand grips me harder. “Don’t forget I’ve seen your browser history, beautiful. It’s given me plenty of ideas for tonight.”

  “Do tell,” Stone says.

  “Yes, inquiring minds want to know,” I add.

  Callum grins wickedly then offers some scorching-hot suggestions that are going to require me to change my panties before the show.

  “I’m good with all that,” I say.

  “This won’t come as a big surprise, but same here,” Stone says.

  I turn to him. “What are your rules?”

  The man headlining a one-night-only show at my hotel slides a hand through his hair and shrugs. “Honestly, I’d like to come a couple of times, and I hope you will too, Ivy. That’s kind of my favorite thing. Everyone getting off. Beyond that, it’s all good.”

  The three of us laugh together, and that laughter seals a circle of trust around us for the night.

  14

  Ivy

  The music thrums through me, and from my vantage point backstage, I sway to the beat as Stone’s gorgeous voice soars through the theater.

  He’s nothing short of epic onstage, the sexy rocker giving the audience what they want: music, passion, tension, and love stories told in the four-minute span of a song.

  Callum is by my side the entire time, on the clock, keeping guard.

  And even though it feels like we’re on the cusp of something, I also like that he’s watching over me. Going into the next part of the night with the man who keeps me safe in public and in private feels thoroughly right.

  When the performance ends, I’m giddy. My entire body is bathed in adrenaline. This is everything I wanted the show to be.

  Enthralling.

  Exciting.

  A true comeback for The Extravagant. The chance to bring this hotel that my parents started on their own into a whole new generation.

  We did it. It’s happening. And what’s coming next feels like a secret celebration.

  The audience demands an encore, and Stone delivers, giving them a slow and sexy rendition of “After Dark” that has me shimmying my hips. And has Callum brushing a kiss to the back of my neck.

  It’s the first time he’s kissed me since our night together, and it makes me shiver. I press my back against his chest, and he slinks an arm around me, this big man keeping me close. The entire moment feels like a prelude of what’s to come.

  When the performance ends, we make our way out of the theater and through the casino. “Stone said he needs to shower. He’ll be upstairs in twenty minutes,” Callum says.

  “Twenty minutes,” I muse as we step into the elevator. “I wonder what we can do in twenty minutes.”

  Part of me wonders if we should talk. But a bigger part says talking can wait. I don’t want to spoil the mood. I want tonight on its own terms, whatever tonight is.

  Do I want everything with Callum?

  Yes.

  But I’m also going to take what I can get.

  As the doors close, he slides a hand over my ass, gripping hard, then answering, “In twenty minutes, I can give you your first orgasm of the night. Just an idea.”

  I shudder at his touch, wiggling against his hand. He responds with a harder squeeze. “I like the sound of that, but there’s something I want to do alone with you,” I say, turning to face him, and truly savoring the sight in front of me. His broad shoulders, his expansive chest, his chiseled jaw, the five-o’clock stubble making him even sexier.

  “What’s that?” His question is all sandpaper and gravel.

  “I haven’t seen you with all your clothes off. You’ve seen me naked, Callum. I haven’t even gotten your shirt all the way off.”

  “You want to undress me?” he asks, like he’s processing my request.

  I nod, licking my lips. “I do. I want to take your clothes off and taste you. I want to have you in my mouth. Will you let me?”

  His eyes squeeze shut for a second, and he breathes through his nostrils. “How is that even a question?”

  When he opens his eyes, he closes the distance, pressing me to the wall and crushing his lips to mine.

  I melt the second he touches me. I’m back where I want to be. With him. Connecting. Feeling. Wanting.

  I run my hands up his chest, spreading my palms over his shirt, feeling his pecs, and letting myself float into the kiss.

  Giving in to a kiss that feels like a promise.

  It’s not hard. It’s not rough. It’s not dirty.

  It’s simply a kiss.

  Undeniably tender and chased with emotions. At least, I hope his emotions match what’s inside my heart.

  In the living room in my suite, he tosses his suit jacket on a chair as I pour two glasses, handing him one. He clinks, and we both knock back the liquor.

  Then he sets down his glass and tugs at his tie, loosening it. He lets go, hands at his sides.

  My turn.

  I reach for the tie and unknot it slowly, savoring every second, every motion.

  When it’s undone, both sides hanging neatly, I tug it off. But I don’t drop it to the floor. Instead, I toss it around my neck, like a scarf. “How do I look?”

  “Spectacular,” he answers. “I’d like you to wear that, and only that.”

  I hum my approval, then knot the tie loosely, letting it dangle between my breasts, over my silver sequins.

  I don’t care about my clothes right now. I want to see this beautiful man naked. My fingers dance across the waistband of his slacks, toy with the belt, then move up to the buttons on his shirt till I reach the neck.

  His chest rises and falls as I undo the first button, then the next. And one more.

  My playful mood fades away, replaced by heat and want.

  “Callum,” I whisper when I’m halfway down his shirt, his skin revealed.

  “Ivy.”

  In a flurry I undo the rest of the buttons. “You’re gorgeous,” I say reverently, pushing open the shirt, and my breath hitches at the sight of him. So broad, so firm. So everything I’ve imagined. His pecs are carved and incredible to touch—a solid plane of masculinity, with a fine dusting of hair I can run my nails through, and I do, oh God, I do, dragging them down to the hard grooves of his abs, each one cut and chiseled.

  All that leads to the promised land.

  My hands explore him as his breathing intensifies. I slide off the sleeves, letting the shirt fall to the floor, and my mouth falls open as I take in his upper body.

  It is absolute perfection. I run my hands along his arms, imprinting the muscle and his strength in my mind, memorizing the way he feels.

  He groans, and the sound is carnal, sending sparks across my shoulders and down my chest.

  He tucks a finger under my chin and makes me look at him. “Is this what you want, beautiful?”

  “To touch you?”

  “Yes. Is this your fantasy?” he asks, like he needs to know, needs to be certain.

  I nibble on the corner of my lips, nodding. “Yes,” I say, and speaking the truth with my friend isn’t enough. I need to give this man all my confession. I cup his cheek, stroke his jaw. “Because you’re my fantasy. All my fantasies are with you, for you, about you,” I say, and desire builds in me, gathering strength. “You’re in all of them, Callum. Every one. And I want to see you. I want to know your body.”

  “Have me.” He lets go of my chin, lowers his hands to his belt, and tugs it off. As he toes off his shoes, he runs a thu
mb over the button of his slacks. “Finish it, Ivy. Undress me all the way.”

  I swallow, breathing hard, pleasure rushing through me. My panties grow damper by the second as I undo the button, unzip, then push his pants over his strong, muscular ass, stopping to run my hands along his sculpted cheeks.

  Yum.

  “Damn,” I say approvingly.

  “What’s the ‘damn’ for?”

  “Your ass is a work of art. It’s like a sculpture.”

  He laughs, loops his hands around my body, and squeezes mine. “I could say the same about you.”

  Then I swat his hands away. “Still my turn.”

  He holds up his hands in playful surrender. “Don’t let me stop you.”

  “I won’t.” I finish pushing his pants down, and he bends, steps out of them, and sheds his socks.

  He’s clad only in black boxer briefs, and he’s glorious.

  Thick thighs, powerful legs, muscles for days.

  He’s so strong, and I want this gorgeous man to take me hard and ruthlessly. I cup his erection over his briefs, and his breath hitches. “I’m going to get on my knees for you. I want you to own my mouth, Callum. Don’t hold back. Don’t ever hold back.”

  “Never. Never with you,” he says, as I kneel and he wraps a hand around my head, curling a big palm over my hair, clasping me tight.

  The hold he has on me is a reminder that he knows what I want. That he knows how I like it.

  And that we’ve shifted into this part of the night—from me in control to him taking charge.

  Just the way I want it. To be put in my place by this man.

  Or, really, by two men.

  Because as soon as Callum pushes down his briefs, freeing his gorgeous shaft and rubbing it against my lips, making me moan, the door chimes.

  “I’ll get it,” I say.

  He shakes his head. “No, Ivy. That’s my job. You stay on your knees where you belong right now.”

  I shudder and say yes.

  He pulls up his briefs, then grabs his pants and puts them on quickly. He cuts across the carpet to the door, peering out the peephole.