Night of the Senses Read online

  And then it began, the coordinated movement of the two cocks, one in as the other moved out, again and again, the wet fur and the tiny ridges, pricking every nerve in her vagina and rectum, Her blood boiled, and a thunderstorm raged inside her. She rode the two cocks as if her life depended on it, plundered in both holes and losing her mind in an explosion of lust.

  On and on they rode, the three of them together, slow and steady then hard and fast. Then, as if at some silent signal, their pace increased, and Bree wasn’t sure she’d survive to enjoy it. The Dragon cupped her breasts with the clamped nipples, the Fox pinched her clit hard, and her body flew apart. Great shudders racked her. Spasms threatened to tear her apart yet the pleasure that burned in every vein was so great she would willingly have died for it.

  Her mind gave up, and she allowed the lust to take over, carrying her into a black velvet space where orgasm piled on orgasm until she was sure her pussy couldn’t convulse one more time.

  Had she passed out? Bree didn’t know. But when she woke, she was lying on yet another table, still blindfolded, and by the soft music coming from hidden speakers, she knew she was in a different room. On either side of her, the Dragon and the Fox held her hands. She could tell their touch now as if it was the most familiar thing in the world.

  “You did well,” the Dragon told her. “You are a most sensuous creature and sensitive, as well. Touch is definitely your sense. You should explore it more.”

  “I think I need to recover from tonight first.” She gave them a weak smile.

  “Were you satisfied?” the Fox asked her. “You bid a large sum of money for this.”

  “Oh, yes,” she breathed. “You were both terrific.”

  “No, you are terrific.” The Dragon bent and kissed her hand.

  “Solange will bathe you and give you something refreshing to drink. We have had your car returned to your condo, and a limousine will drive you home. The driver has your keys.”

  “T-thank you.”

  “Our pleasure,” they said in unison, and the whisper of their feet on the carpet told her they left the room.

  Bree drifted in a foggy haze, her body feeling well-used but satisfied. In a moment, she heard a door open and sensed Solange standing next to her.

  “Come.” She helped Bree from the table. “I have a relaxing bath drawn from you and a final little surprise. Something extra they thought you would enjoy.”

  The bath felt even more relaxing because she still could not see. The water was just the right temperature and scented with lavender and vanilla. More music played in this room, too. Bree caught foamy bubbles with her hands and blew on them, only wishing she could see them float into the air.

  Solange drew a soft cloth across her hand, absorbent cotton of some kind.

  “I will bathe you with this. It will be gentle on your skin and will absorb any of the lotions still clinging to you.”

  And bathe her she did, from her toes to her ears. When Solange released the nipple clamps, Bree cried out at the sharp pain from the sudden rush of blood, but the woman applied a soothing ointment and rubbed the tips a long time with her gentle fingers until the residual soreness was more pleasure than pain.

  “You have beautiful nipples,” the woman told her. “I would love to taste them.”

  Bree had stopped being surprised at anything by this point, so she simply nodded.

  Solange took one of her hands and rubbed the fingers across Bree’s lips. “I keep my skin very soft, nothing there rough to rub against these abused buds.”

  Bree ran her fingers back and forth, feeling skin that felt like the petals of a flower, then nodded again.

  A motor began to hum and the bottom of the tub began to rise until Bree was partially out of the water. Solange cupped a breast in her small palm, as soft as her lips, and closed her mouth over the pebbled tip.

  Bree let her head fall back, an unexpected ecstasy washing over her, the same lassitude she had felt before the start of the evening. The suction Solange applied was light and gentle, and even the edge of her even teeth felt good. When her small tongue licked across the tip, Bree moaned with gratification. By the time attention had been sufficiently paid to both nipples, Bree could have melted into a puddle.

  “Thank you.” Solange placed a light kiss on each nipple. “Now we must cleanse the rest of the body.”

  The motor hummed and the bottom of the tub rose even more. Solange arranged Bree on her hands and knees and placed a rubber tube into her rectum.

  “A light anal douche to wash away the gel the Dragon uses,” she explained. “It has a pleasant feel.”

  When it was finished, Solange helped her to turn over, bent her knees, and proceeded to do the same with her vagina, washing away the traces of every lubricant or gel that had been applied.

  “If we leave even the smallest amount in there,” the woman explained, “tomorrow you will be very uncomfortable.”

  Bree heard her putting away her equipment, then a small, soft hand came to rest between her legs.

  “But one side effect of the douches is they stimulate the sexual need again, and we do not let our guests leave here unfulfilled. Please lie back. I will take good care of you. This is your final surprise. Give me your hand.”

  Bree did as she was commanded, and felt the warm metal of a small cylinder. She ran her thumb across the bottom and felt a recessed button. So. Another vibrator.

  “This is all right?” Solange asked.

  “Yes. Please.” She was breathless with need. “Very all right.”

  Solange inserted the cylinder in her pussy and turned the vibration on low, ramping it up to medium after a few seconds. Then she took Bree’s clit in her fingers and rubbed it and pulled it. She flicked it with her nail, whispered her finger across it with feathery touches.

  Bree felt the tight coil of desire unwinding inside her again, the lust climbing but with less intensity than with the men. It spread through her like a wave of warmth, consuming her body. She moaned, as much with need as with pleasure.

  “One more thing, and we will reach satisfaction,” Solange said.

  Again she moved a small instruments, also metal, across Bree’s hand so she could touch it, then with one hand slid it gently into Bree’s rectum and turned it on.

  This time it took only a moment’s manipulation of her clit before her orgasm hit. Solange turned up the vibration full on both dildos and Bree’s body responded by erupting in an epic climax. She writhed and jerked and convulsed, riding the wave of spasms, loving the touch of Solange’s fingers on her clit as she brought her down from an incredible high.

  At last, she lay exhausted, more than willing to let the woman dry her and powder her and slip her dress back on. She sipped at the wine that was given to her, and finally she was led out of the room, down the polished wood floor to the front door, and the blindfold was removed.

  She blinked at the sudden intrusion of light, even though the area was dimly lit, and saw a smiling Jennifer waiting for her with her purse and shoes.

  “Anthony is ready with the limo,” she told Bree. “Let me help you down the steps.”

  As she entered the limo and relaxed against the soft, buttery leather, Solange handed her purse to her with a square white envelope.

  “Your keys are in your purse, Anthony has your address, and the envelope is from the Dragon, not to be opened until you reach home.” She winked. “He owns the House, you know.”

  Bree stared out the window, open-mouthed, as the limo slid down the driveway to the gate.

  At her condo building, Anthony handed her out to her doorman as if she’d just returned from a society ball, bowed and returned to his vehicle. She leaned against the panelled wall of the elevator as it rose to her floor then stumbled her way down the carpeted hallway to her door. Once inside, she tossed her keys and purse aside then collapsed on the heavy cushions of her couch.

  She held the envelope against her breasts, reliving every moment of the unbelievable, magical, e
rotic evening, wondering for a moment if she’d imagined the whole thing. And if she’d ever have the chance to repeat it. She knew memberships were expensive and the people were chosen with great care.

  Finally, unable to wait any longer, she opened the envelope and extracted a heavy card engraved with the logo of the House.

  Bree,

  It was an honour to be of service to you tonight, and I think perhaps my own pleasure was greater than yours. It is rare that I meet a woman with whom I connect so intimately. There are more erotic pleasures I would love to explore with you, if you are willing. Enclosed in this envelope is a gold chip which is given to special members, those who are committed to only one person although they may be shared with others. If this is agreeable to you, simply call the number written below and say yes. I will arrange the rest.

  The Dragon.

  Bree was so weak with excitement she could hardly manage to pull her cell phone from her purse. He wanted her! He wanted more! He was bringing her into his inner circle! What more could she have asked for.

  Finally, her fumbling fingers managed to dial the number.

  “Is this you?” the deep voice asked.

  “Yes.” She smiled. “And the answer is most definitely yes. Yes, yes, yes.”

  Would it be too immature if she leaped up and clicked her heels?

  “Very good. I will call you with the arrangements. I look forward to this very much.”

  “As do I.”

  The line went dead, but Bree hugged the phone to her for a moment longer. She lay back on the couch, drifting off to sleep with the solid gold chip in her fingers and the anticipation of a world of touch to explore colouring her dreams.

  About the Author

  I always wanted adventure and change in my life, and I certainly got it. I grew up in Maine, a beautiful place to live, then lived in the Midwest and Florida. Now I make my home in the Hill Country of Texas, truly God's chosen place on earth. My husband, David, is a sixth generation Texan, tracing his roots here back to the time when Texas was a Republic, so retiring here was a dream we finally fulfilled.

  I've had a lot of firsts in my life – first female sports report on The Michigan Daily at the University of Michigan; first woman to own a rock and roll agency in Detroit, the home of Motown; first woman president of the Pasco (Florida) Economic Development Council.

  I graduated from the University of Michigan with a double major in English and History, and a minor in Economics, and went on to have at least four careers. When my children were small, I satisfied my need for writing by working for weekly newspapers. I had a wild and wacky time managing rock and roll bands. I joined the insanity of retail with a string of shoe stores. I worked in fundraising, public affairs and community relations. But writing fiction was always my dream. I had a lot of stops and starts, but it wasn't until we retired that I could devote myself to it full time.

  My wonderful husband, David, encourages me and supports me in my dream. Our children are all grown and on their own, and are my biggest fans.

  When I'm not writing I'm an avid reader – anything and everything – and watching football, especially my beloved Michigan Wolverines. David and I golf and target shoot, and of course enjoy life in the gorgeous Texas Hill Country, where most of my stories are based.

  I am a member of Romance Writers of America, and San Antonio Romance Authors, Diamond State Romance Authors, and Passionate Ink chapter of RWA.

  Email: [email protected]

  Desiree loves to hear from readers. You can find her contact information, website and author biography at http://www.total-e-bound.com.

  Also by Desiree Holt

  Crude Oil

  Brit Party: Fourplay

  Beg Me

  Afternoon Delight

  Heatwave: Summer Spice

  Down and Dirty

  The Edge of Morning

  WELCOME TO PARADISE

  Ashley Ladd

  Dedication

  To my editors who work so hard to polish my stories,

  and to my readers who make everything worthwhile.

  Trademarks Acknowledgement

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

  Bull Frog Sunscreen: Signal Investment & Management Co.

  Vaseline: Unilever Supply Chain, Inc.

  Grizzly Adams: Sellier, Charles E.

  eHarmony: eHarmony, Inc.

  Chapter One

  Jordin Marshall spread her toes in the warm Florida sand and let the heady warmth seep into her. This was a long-time dream, and she wondered again if it was a fantasy. Having lived in the snows of Alaska and Utah all her twenty-four years, she’d finally found paradise.

  Stretching her bikini-clad body, she reached towards the sun’s warmth and light. Joyous laughter bubbled from her lips, and she hoped a merman would emerge from the depths of the blue gulf waves and claim her for his own. Well, not really. She just wanted a man. A man who wasn’t of her father’s choosing or the type he would choose: a return Mormon missionary, probably an exulted Brigham Young University or Rick’s College grad. No, she’d escaped her daddy’s clutches to find a man of her choosing. No return missionaries or religious nuts need apply. And no one was to know she was rich, either. She longed to find love on her own terms. To be loved for herself. That shouldn’t be too hard since she was staying at Paradise Inc., a cosy little hotel on the gorgeous Gulf Shore of west Florida. If she couldn’t find love in paradise, where could she?

  Certainly not at Utah State even though she knew darned well her dad had sent her there to be as close to BYU as possible. If he’d had his way, she’d have attended BYU to get her MRS, but since she wasn’t a temple-card carrying member of the Latter-day Saints, she’d been rejected. Had her dad ever been mortified. And had she ever been relieved. Like her mother, she had serious doubts about the church her father prized.

  A handsome, well-muscled blond caught her eye, and remembering the flirting advice she’d recently read on the internet, she returned his smile. It was so wide, she could almost feel the cleft in her chin deepening. Pretending to look for the small black shark’s teeth that were so abundant in the Gulf sands, she inched her way nearer to the hottie. But then a buxom, blonde female joined him and whisked him away, kicking sand in her wake and burying Jordin’s dreams under clumps of wet sand.

  Jordin bit back a sigh and bagged her sharks’ teeth. Oh well, she consoled herself, there was sure to be an abundance of available men in Paradise. If not, looking on the bright side, at least she could make shark’s teeth necklaces for all her friends back home.

  She spent her afternoon playing in the surf and sand and sunbathing, trying to take a bit of pallor off her lily-white flesh. Since she didn’t want to look like a cooked lobster, she reapplied her Bull Frog sunscreen every half hour and wore a visor and dark shades to protect her eyes that were more accustomed to light filtered through clouds than heavy doses of direct sun. Although she spied a lot of interesting men, she hadn’t gotten up the nerve to approach any. What was she supposed to say? Carry me away? Make love to me? Save me from daddy dearest?

  Oh, yeah. That would really attract men.

  When her stomach rumbled, she gathered her gear, tossed her backpack over her shoulder and ambled back to the parking lot beside Paradise Inc. where she’d left her rental car. With the late afternoon sun pouring down on the resort, it looked almost as pearly white as the Anchorage Temple but not nearly so imposing. Surrounded by brilliant blooms and palm groves, it was also way more exotic.

  Just as she was about to step into the roadway, a pair of bicyclists barrelled at her, and with a sharp intake of breath, she jumped back and toppled onto her derriere and into a mound of sand. Miffed that the men had almost run her down, she struggled to her feet and swatted angrily at the gritty sand coating her oily skin. “Damn!” she swore under her breath, feeling like the sand creature from the black lagoon. So far P
aradise hadn’t been very kind.

  As she was bent over, her breasts about to tumble from her bikini top, her rear sticking up high, she was shocked when a warm male voice crooned nearby, “Hey, are you okay? We didn’t see you until it was too late.”

  Surprised, hoping her nipples weren’t visible to the man’s gaze, she slowly straightened with as much poise as she could muster in her almost nude state. Tossing her wind-blown, sand-filled hair behind her shoulders, she eyed him critically. Tall and with a nice musculature that didn’t hint at steroid usage, he was clean-cut with short, tapered coppery hair, wire-rimmed glasses, a sweat-covered tank-top, and clingy bicycle shorts.

  His friend double backed and stopped a couple feet short of them. “You okay, Miss? Beemis, here, didn’t mean to almost smash you like a bug, did you?”

  Beemis playfully swatted at his friend, but missed when the other cyclist ducked then backed up out of arm’s reach.

  She had to stop herself from gaping. The second guy just might be on major steroids he was such a muscle man. His abs gleamed under the sun’s kiss. Sweaty, spiked hair, made his face look narrow and well-sculpted. His tank top was thoroughly drenched in perspiration, and if possible, his shorts were even tighter than his companion’s, showing every mouth-watering bulge. Raised as a good, chaste girl, she tore her glance away and back to his face but not before she started to tingle and burn.

  If dressed in the Mormon missionary uniform of plain white oxford shirt, twill slacks, tie, and polished shoes, they could perfectly fit the bill. They even rode bikes like so many of the missionaries. Wondering if these two could be two of their kind, mentally and physically she stepped back,. Her hands spoke before her lips twitched. “I’ll be fine now that you’ve apologised. Only my pride was bruised.”