Seven Nights of Sin - Lacey Alexander [91]
“It’s horrible, and it’s…arresting,” she said softly, trying to analyze her emotions. “How is it possible that I’m both appalled and…utterly captivated?”
“Because you think too much?” he suggested between kisses that now spanned down onto her chest.
She cast him a sensual smile in reply. “It must be great to be a man, to not have to feel so much and think so much.”
“You’ve done pretty good at that this week, babe—and you should go back to doing it right now.”
He was right, of course. She’d managed to discover a whole new sexual world with his guidance and her ability to turn off old Brenna this week. But being immersed in something so wholly shocking had threatened to take her back there.
Until this moment.
Because she wasn’t going to let it.
Instead, she was going to close her eyes. Drink in the sensation of Damon’s kisses across her chest, his thumb stroking her distended nipple. Soak up the sounds of pleasure all around her. And…eat a grape. That’s what she wanted. To let a man feed her a grape while Damon kissed her. She wanted to be that daring. Take that step.
And it was just as she lifted her hand to wave over a darkly handsome guy wearing a gold armband and bearing a tray of grapes that Damon slipped the gauzy white fabric over her breast, baring it—and she didn’t stop him.
She couldn’t.
She had to keep going.
She held eye contact with the good-looking guy even as Damon’s mouth closed over her nipple—and her cunt spasmed.
Oh God, she was doing this, really doing it. It somehow felt infinitely more wanton than anything else she’d indulged in this week.
The grape-bearer—who even looked Italian—approached, and she licked her upper lip, pointing toward a pile of green grapes. Lifting a small bunch, he held them over her parted lips, allowing her to pluck one free between teeth and tongue.
As the grape squashed in her mouth, the sweet juice flowing free, Damon suckled her harder and her pussy nearly exploded from the rush of pleasure, making her moan.
“More?” the handsome Roman asked.
It made Damon look up, realize what she was doing. His eyes went glassy with lust and she felt beautifully, thrillingly exposed with her breast glistening and naked between the two men. Being on display made her wetter still, made her feel hot and swollen beneath her tiny toga.
She was about to say yes—to more grapes, and maybe more everything—when Damon glanced up at the guy once more, and this time said, “Anthony?”
Oh God.
The Roman lowered his chin, looking confused at first, but then he grinned. “Damon—I’ll be damned.”
“I haven’t seen you in forever, man.”
“Whisky a Go Go in 2002, probably—because I’ve been in Vegas since then.”
Brenna sat up a bit, pulling the fabric back over her breast. Her heart still beat between her thighs, but her sense of passionate abandon had been pretty much extinguished and she felt a little weird.
“Shit—I’m sorry, babe,” Damon said then. “This is an old friend. Used to work at a couple of the clubs on Sunset and let me know about new bands.” Looking up to Anthony, he said, “This is Brenna.”
“Um, hi,” she said, thankful—under the odd circumstances—that Damon hadn’t mentioned her being Blue Night’s newest A&R rep, even if it would remain confidential.
Anthony glanced down at her chest and smiled warmly. “Don’t worry about covering up on my account, hon. When you work here, you see a lot of tits.”
He spoke so sincerely that the comment actually succeeded in putting her somewhat at ease. “I can imagine.”
“So,” Damon said, “working at the most notorious sex club in Vegas, huh?”
Anthony shrugged in his toga. “What can I say? I started here a few months back, a couple nights a week. The money’s good and the work’s fun.”
“I’ll bet,” Damon said.
Anthony glanced back to Brenna. “I’ll let you two get back to what you were doing. But if you need anything, let me know and I’ll take care of you right.”
She understood that he meant food and drink,