I've come to learn a lot more about Moira. Her father and mother were both anthropologists, which is where she got her drive and desire to follow in their footsteps. Her sister, Lisa, is a stay-at-home mother, having married an electrical engineer--whatever that means--and she's happily raising their two children on the coast of North Carolina. My questions to her about her personal life have become endless and so far, I know that outside of being probably the only woman that will ever satisfy my lust, that she is funny, smart, and mischievous. She loves old western movies because she used to watch them with her father, and she's terrified of cats for some reason, but spiders don't scare her at all. I know she lightly snores when she sleeps on her back, but when she's tucked into my body on her side, she sleeps deeply and without sound. Her favorite book is Fifty Shades of Grey... a book that she loaned to me, but I couldn't make it past the first chapter. She smirked at me when I told her that and said I was missing out on some valuable sex lessons I could put to use. I immediately picked it back up and made myself read it, but frankly... it didn't teach me anything I couldn't figure out on my own.
Nights with Moira are the best because we secret ourselves away in either her bedroom or mine, and she lets me do whatever I want to her body. My favorite thing, by far, is making her come with my mouth. Sometimes, I'll start with my face between her legs, but sometimes, I'll pound out my own orgasm first, fucking her furiously as I race to the finish line. Then I'll pull out of her and while I'm still drowning from lack of oxygen, I'll push my mouth against her pussy and eat her all up until she's crying out her own orgasm.
This nightclub we're in is nothing I ever expected. It's three stories tall, and there was a huge, black man with bulging muscles and facial piercings guarding the door. A velvet rope cordoned off the entrance, and a long line of people waited outside to get in. Per Cara's instructions, I gave my name to the huge dude, and he let Moira and me in with a brilliantly white smile.
The inside of the building is completely open, with a massive dance floor in the middle and a mirrored bar that spans three of the walls. The ceiling extends three stories above and, looking up, I see several balconies lining the walls above me, reached by private staircases. Cara had told me that they were in VIP balcony room number three, and to just ask the bartender where that was. Apparently, Cara and Clint come here regularly and are afforded their own private place, in which they can sip their fancy cocktails and watch the dancers down below.
After a quick stop at the bar where Moira orders something called a Screwdriver and I get myself a beer, we follow the bartender's directions and climb a staircase to the third level. A solid red door meets us at the top and I push it open, immediately seeing Cara and Clint sitting next to each other, their blond heads angled in as if they're having a private conversation. Even though the club is thumping with loud music, it's relatively quiet inside this small room, and I see that's due to double glass doors that are closed to the open club. As soon as they hear us come in, their heads turn toward us in unison.
Cara's smile goes bright when she sees me, but then it dims when she notices Moira. Clint immediately jumps up, claps me on the back, and pulls Moira in for a close hug. I immediately want to kill the fucker.
For the next two hours, I stand at the balcony's edge and sip on a few beers, while I watch the dancers down below me. I keep the doors closed because the music is grating to my ears, and it makes me long for the soft lyrics of the tribal women who sing at our feasts. I declined the invitation to dance, but from my perch above, I can watch Moira as she gyrates her hips with moves so sexy that I have a perpetual hard-on. Cara takes it one step further, moving her body in an almost pornographic way, her arms raised above her head. Sometimes, Clint comes up behind his sister and holds onto her hips while he sways his own in unison with her. It looks disgusting to watch the siblings dancing so provocatively with each other. If he even thinks about doing that to Moira, he's a dead man.
I watch for a moment as they dance and wonder how soon Moira and I can leave. I have a powerful need for her, but what else is new in my life? She's becoming almost a necessity to me, which further increases my dangerous mood.
Eventually, Moira heads off the floor, pushing her way through the mob as she heads toward the bathroom. There's a line almost as long as the one outside to get in, so I know she'll be a while. I sigh with frustration as I watch Clint and Cara make their way back to the staircase to join me back up on the VIP balcony.
Cara slinks into the private room and heads straight for me. She takes me by the hand, leading me over to the couch, and I don't think to resist. Clint goes over to the private mini-bar and pours himself another drink. He and Cara have been pounding the liquor pretty hard, and they're both drunk.
Cara flops onto the couch and pulls me down beside her. She drapes her arms around my neck and says in a silky voice, "So Zach... Clint and I were wondering if you and Moira wanted to come back to my apartment and party with us."
Interesting that she invited Moira because I know she considers her a nuisance by the way she treats her. "What do you mean by 'party'?"
She flutters her eyelashes at me. "Oh you know... maybe a little coke... a little Ecstasy. Something to loosen up Miss Frigid Pants."
I have no clue what she means by any of this, but it doesn't sound like something I would enjoy, nor would I want Moira to experience it with them. "I think we'll take a pass."
Clint walks up behind us to stand behind the couch. With his drink in one hand, he reaches another out and caresses Cara softly on the back of her neck. "If you're not into a four-way, we can split off."
"Split off?" I ask stupidly, because while I think I have an idea of what he's saying, the prospect is starting to cause my blood to boil.
"Yeah," Clint says as his glazed eyes stare at me. "Cara and I get off on the group sex thing but, if that doesn't appeal, you can have a crack at Cara and I'd love to fuck Moira until she can barely stand."
My vision goes red, and I actually get a moment of brief dizziness from the blazing rage that filters through me. Not at the offer to do a four-way because only these vacuous people would be so deviant as to suggest something like that, and I find that not surprising in the least. But fury rises swift over Clint thinking he could even be entitled to breathe the same air as Moira, much less think he can fuck her.
I surge off the couch, turning toward Clint with a murderous stare. "What did you just say?"
He has no clue the danger he's in, and I notice Cara watches me with a lustful gleam in her eye. "Moira," Clint repeats as if I'm stupid. "I want to fuck her. I bet she has the sweetest, tightest pus--"
I go flying across the couch, leaping it with ease, and slam my hands into Clint's chest. He goes careening back into the wall beside the mini-bar, causing glasses to lurch and two bottles to fall over where they shatter on the floor. His own drink goes flying, and then I'm on him. Wrapping both hands around his neck, I squeeze and watch his eyes fly open in fear.
"Oh, Zach... why the dramatics?" Cara drawls from her perch on the couch. I see her sitting there watching us with mild interest, but she frankly seems bored. "If you don't want to, you just have to say 'no'. Although, I honestly don't know what you see in Moira. She seems a little mousy to me."
I close my eyes, take in a deep breath and, when I open them back up, I turn my stare onto Clint. "Don't you ever fucking talk about Moira like that again. Don't you even think about touching her. If I even see you so much as glance at her again, I will fucking end your life, you miserable piece of shit."
Clint nods his head vigorously in understanding, fear having diminished the drunken glaze in his eyes. I release my hold on his throat, and his hand comes up to rub at his skin.
Cara starts laughing behind me, and it gets louder as I can hear her walk closer. Her fingers come to the back of my neck, and she scrapes her nails along my skin. I jerk my head away from her and step back, looking at her warily.
"Oh, this is delicious," Cara says in a mocking voice. She walks over to her brother, wraps her arms around his neck, and runs her tongue from his collarbone to his jaw. "Don't you see, Clint? Zach and Moira are fucking each other. That's why he's so bent out of shape."
Clint's eyes go wide but he doesn't say anything, my warning about Moira apparently still fresh in his mind.
"See," she croons to her brother as she strokes his chest with her hand. His arm goes possessively around her waist, and he pulls her in tight to him. "He doesn't deny it."
My fingers curl inward to dig my nails into my palms, and I've never wanted to do violence to a woman before... until this very moment.
"Let's go, darling," Cara says, taking Clint by the hand to lead him toward the door. She turns her head toward me and gives me an appraising look. "This has been very insightful, Zach. I'm sure Uncle Randall would be very interested to know that Moira's professionalism isn't quite as professional as he took it."
I never hesitate for a second. "Just as I'm sure he'd be interested to know that you and your brother are sick fucks that are screwing each other."
Cara blanches, so I know I hit the nail on the head. Clint pulls her by the hand toward the door. "Let's go, Cara."
"Stay the fuck away from Moira," I warn both of them. "You do not want to incur my wrath."
Neither of them responds as they walk out the door, and I let out a sigh of relief when they're gone. I walk back to the couch and sink down onto it. A tiny laugh escapes my lips, and then turns into a full-fledged guffaw.
I can't believe that just fucking happened. I can't believe those twisted fucks propositioned Moira and me like that, and I can't believe I refrained from killing Clint. Moira would be so proud of me.
Standing back up, I walk over to the mini-bar and pull another beer out of the fridge. I twist the cap, throw it in the garbage, and take a huge gulp.
The door to the private room opens, and Moira walks through. She dressed tonight like she wanted to come dancing... like she wanted to show me the way her body could move. Her dress is silver and slinky, tying around her neck and plunging deep down her chest. The hem is short, barely covering her ass, but hangs loosely so it swishes as she walks. She paired it with a pair of black heels with wide, leather straps around her ankles, and when I first saw them, I thought they would look fucking magnificent resting on my shoulders while I pounded away inside of her.
All thoughts of Clint and Cara melt away, and my body reacts as it normally does when I see Moira. Whether she's in jeans and a T-shirt or a fuck-me-in-the-club dress, I get a raging hard-on for her.
As she closes the door behind her, I set the beer down on the bar and stride toward the vision before me. Her eyes smile at me and she opens her mouth to say something, but I cut her off by bringing my lips to hers. I give her a punishing kiss filled with lust and need, plunging my tongue in deeply and pulling her hips inward so I can grind my erection against her.
She pushes back at me slightly and gasps, "What's gotten in to you?"
"I want to fuck you... right now," I tell her and kiss her again. She indulges me for a moment but then pushes at my chest once more.