Invitation to Pleasure: Open Invitation, Book 2 by Jasmine Haynes Read Free Book Online Page A

treats
on her tongue. He wanted to savor the confection between her legs. He wanted to
suck the cherried buds of her nipples through the slinky bra.
           She was like the lady of the manor
performing her evening ablutions. A hot bath, sparkling champagne, and a little
play to help her sleep. She fluttered under the water, preparing herself but not
coming. He felt like a kid in a candy store waiting for the patron in front of
him who just could not make up his mind.
           The wait made her actions all the more
sexy. She arched, moaned softly—the room was wired for sound—then relaxed
again, lifting an arm to snag another piece of cheese and a champagne chaser.
Is that how women masturbated when no one was watching, stretching it out,
rising to a heated level, then backing off to relax and sip champagne, only to
start all over again?
           He’d never asked, never even wondered about
it. It hadn’t mattered. Playing his share of sex games, he’d also done his
share of watching a woman make herself come, but what did they do when they
didn’t have an audience? Yes, Virginia knew the mirror was two-way, but still, this
was different from her pre-wedding sojourn. Perhaps she was already so hot and
wet that night after wandering the halls of the club that she’d gone at herself
in a frenzy, even if she had been able to hold off her orgasm for an
extraordinary amount of time.
           He gripped the window frame as her hips
arched and rose from the water, bubbles popping, her fingers working. The
mirror revealed the bliss on her face, her lashes fanned below her eyes, her
teeth worrying her lower lip.
           She moaned again, but she didn’t scream,
and he knew she hadn’t come. No matter how languid she appeared, she was well
aware of him behind the window, well aware of his reaction.
           Just as before, he didn’t take his cock out
of his pants. For now, it was all about her pleasure. He watched and waited,
his balls tightening all the while.
           He’d thought of parading her through the
party throng. He’d even changed into a tuxedo for the occasion. The club had a
locker room, perhaps for those who wanted to wash off the night’s revelry or
change their debauched clothing. But doing what everyone else was doing didn’t
appeal. In the end, he’d gone with his original plan. A private room, a private
show.
           Then she rose from amid the dying bubbles.
Water streamed down her body as she poured soap into her hand. He’d made sure
the attendants left her favorite scent. She washed, her hand delving into her
mound. In the mirror behind her, he watched her fingers peek from between her
legs, then she soaped her ass, spreading her cheeks, teasing. Pinching soaped
nipples, she caressed beneath her breasts, her throat, arching her neck.
           She was dazzling. He’d always appreciated
her beauty, her elegance. Now he craved the passion he’d seen beneath the
surface the night he’d followed her here.
           Drying off, she stepped from the tub, then
finally, finally, she opened his second instruction. And smiled.
           She dropped the towel and began a slow,
sultry application of lotion. Her flirty movements drove him mad. Then she left
her champagne behind and mounted the bed, tugging her hair loose at the same
time. The pins she’d used to secure it flew in all directions.
           If she’d been alone, she probably would
have climbed under the covers, snuggling into the warmth. Instead, she crawled
across the mattress on her hands and knees, her eyes on herself in what to her
was a mirror. Then she swung her legs around, pulled a pillow beneath her head,
and lay back.
           Her gorgeous bush faced him, showing him a
hint of warm, wet pink. He wanted, needed to bury his face in her. A door,
disguised to look like another wall panel, was set to one side of the window.
He could enter her room any time.
           She spread