“Max.” Her voice was strained, wrapped tight around the single syllable.

“Hmm?” I tasted her again, letting my eyes fall closed. “You’re so perfect right here.” I kissed her right where she would take me inside. “Right f**king here.”

“Please. Now.” Her thighs trembled in my hands.

“You don’t want to come on my mouth?” I asked, already pushing to stand and unfastening my belt.

“I know we don’t have a lot of time. I want to feel you inside before you have to leave.”

Pushing my boxers down my thighs, I teased at her entrance, sliding my c*ck up and over her clit. “Before we begin, I need your thoughts on something.”

She moaned, pushing back into me. “Need to know where to put it?”

I bent and kissed her back, laughing. “No, you naughty f**king girl. This will be too quick for that.”

She licked her lips, waiting.

Poised just barely inside her, I asked, “Shall I take you bare? I do have a condom in my pocket.”

Her breath hitched. “Bare.”

My chest squeezed and I stared down at her, wanting to absorb the moment just a little f**king longer. She was tied to a table, nak*d and ready for me. My silk tie dragged along her spine as I bent over her, and the deep blue contrasted perfectly with the pale flush of her skin. Bloody hell, she was hot. We never used condoms at home, but here in the club and with her whole night ahead of her, it was a little different.

I slid in so slowly I felt every f**king centimeter of her stretching for me. She cried out, tilting her h*ps up to take me deeply. In this position, with the difference in our heights, I could curl along the entire length of her spine and speak right into her ear. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“Because now I’ve just pushed inside you, with no protection, Petal. If I come inside you, the drink-spillers out there will know you belong to me.”

She moaned, fingers curling right around the edge of the table. “And?”

“And you’ll have my come inside you after I leave; is that what you like?”

“You’ll know it’s there,” she whispered, rocking up to meet my movements. “That’s what I’ll like. When you’re out there, sitting with the boys, or at dinner later, you’ll be thinking about how I can still feel you.”

“Too f**king right.” I slid my hand around her h*ps and pressed my fingers all along her sex, giving her friction everywhere.

I started slow, teasing, watching myself disappear and emerge, wet with her. But the reality of the night pressed in on my little private bubble and I knew I didn’t have hours to relish this. This would be quick pleasure only; I would find time to drink her in much more slowly later.

She gasped when I pulled back and returned to her roughly, building a rhythm so hard and fast the table squeaked on the floor, the hinges groaned. Sara took it all with her perfect arse in the air, pushing back into me as hard and fast as I moved forward.

With a quiet moan, she whispered, “Max, I’m there.”

I circled my fingers over her clit, pressed harder, moved faster. I knew this woman’s body as well as my own. Knew how fast she needed it, how hard. Knew how much she loved the sound of her name in my voice.

“Petal,” I groaned. “I’m dying to feel you come around my cock.”

Arching her neck, she pressed the back of her head into my shoulder, letting out a smooth, effortless moan. “More. More.”

“I f**king love you, Sara.”

That did it; her fingers gripped the table edge so hard her knuckles went white, and her orgasm surged around me, pulled from her in the same rhythm as her hot little sounds.

“What are you feeling?” I managed, lips pressed just below her ear. “Power? Control? Here you are, blindfolded and tied to a table and I’m f**king lost in you. I’m so f**king lost I can barely catch my breath.”

Exhaling heavily, she seemed to sink into the table, sated. “Love.”

My release teased along my back, hovered low in my stomach as my h*ps sped up. “‘Love’?” I repeated. “You’re tied to a metal table, having just orgasmed in front of God knows who, and you feel love. . . . You must be lost in me just the same.”

She turned her head, capturing my lips. Sara gave me her mouth, her tongue, her hoarse hungry sounds, and I was done for, groaning as I lost my rhythm, my h*ps slapping her backside as I grew fevered until finally, my whole body tensed in release.

I stilled, dizzy and relishing the feel of her kisses when she was like this, slow and languid after her orgasm. The room disappeared, and as clichéd as it sounded, time stopped. Everything in this night became about her body, and her lips, her eyes opening and meeting mine as we kissed.

Slowly, I pulled from her, and forced her lips to slow their soft, hungry assault so I could just enjoy the shape of her mouth. I ran two fingers over her p**sy, relishing the way she jerked beneath me. Pressing two fingers inside her, I could still feel the heat of the friction, the evidence of my pleasure.

“Dirty f**king girl,” I whispered, pushing deep into her.

I tugged my fingers back and smiled at the way her body seemed unwilling to let me go.

But she needed to stand, and stretch; and I needed to carry on with my night.

I stood, fixing my trousers, and then kneeled to untie her legs. She straightened, arching her back before turning and pushing up to sit on the table, pulling me by my tie to stand between her legs.

“What are you guys doing next?” she asked, smoothing her hands over my dress shirt.

“Dinner, I believe.” I stepped away only long enough to retrieve her robe from the corner of the room. I was done letting others look at her. “And you?”

“Dinner,” she said, shrugging. “Then I’m not sure.” She looked up, gave me a teasing little smile. “Maybe we’ll go to another club.”

“And what?” I asked, laughing. “Watch some blokes in banana hammocks wiggle their tackle in your face? No, Petal.”

Her eyes widened in slight challenge. “Well, you go have your fun night, I’ll go have mine.”

With a smile, I leaned in to kiss her, letting her deepen it with her hands on my face, sliding into my hair and around the back of my neck. “I feel like I could f**k for hours,” she whispered into my mouth, and I almost lost it right then; Sara rarely swore, and when she did, it always made me hard. “I just feel a little hollow with how much I want you tonight.”

I groaned and pressed my face into her neck.

“I know, I know,” she murmured, and when she pressed her hands to my chest, I stepped back so she could stand. “I’m sure Chloe is done. We should go.”

We exited from the same door I’d come in, which, unfortunately, was the only way in or out of the room. I preferred the separate exit at Red Moon. It was one thing to know people were out there; it was another thing to possibly see them.

But luckily whoever had been outside had disbanded before we emerged, most likely having already seen me wrap Sara in her robe. When we passed down the hall, we slipped behind other patrons, and I couldn’t help but wonder, had they seen?

THREE

Bennett Ryan

I couldn’t decide if I felt f**king awesome—I’d basically just gotten my fiancée off in about three minutes in a back room of a swanky sex club—or more worked up and frustrated than I’d been in a long time. Fucking Chloe. The way she left made her little act feel like some sort of punishment for being in Vegas over Valentine’s Day. But, shit, if I knew my fiancée at all, I knew that—no matter our role in the marketing world—she found the whole prospect of a manufactured romantic holiday completely ridiculous. Clearly she just jumped at the opportunity to play a little game and leave me in her favorite state: worked up and pissed off.

And f**king Max. Had he known Chloe was going to tease me like this? And, if he did . . . well, actually that was a little personal and creepy. I’d either have to kick his ass or drop something sleep-inducing into his drink and tattoo “I’m a wanker” in permanent ink all over his face.

But my revenge would have to wait. Max was gone when I returned, and Henry and Will had the glassy-eyed look of two men given booze and women in heaping quantities.