Small Town Secrets
So I simply tell Mom I’m going to a party with Roxy and we’re getting ready at hers. All of that is true, except I don’t specify what kind of party it is. At twenty years old I’m an adult, and can keep some confidences to myself.
So I find myself getting out of Roxy’s car again, in front of the house that’s secretly a sex club. Roxy looks me up and down, grinning proudly.
“I knew this place would be good for you. You haven’t tugged at your dress once yet.”
“How do I look?” I blush, trying to pull the tube dress down so that it covers the tops of my thighs.
“Sexy!” says Roxy approvingly, and I have to admit that I feel it. Having ditched the shiny black dress from last time, my curves are now hugged by red velvet. But the dress is just as short and just as tight, and this time, I’ve proudly pushed my luscious D-cups up and together, displaying them to their best advantage. There’s a golden zipper that snakes down the front of the dress, and it’s temptation personified. Because one tug at that zipper, and my creaminess is gonna spill out.
“You look like Kat Dennings,” purrs Roxy, who looks like her usual sexy self in a blue mini dress that matches her eyes. I’m amazed at the difference in my confidence after just from one night here with Conor. Roxy reads my mine and smiles slyly.
“Whoever this guy is, Carrie, he’s clearly doing something right!” my buddy purrs.
But all the affirmation doesn’t stop me from trembling with nerves as I stand leaning up against the same wall as last week, holding my drink like a moron. Of course, Roxy is off fucking a new athletic type. Swallowing heavily, I allow myself to feel aroused as I watch people fucking all around me, moaning and writhing. I scan the room for Conor’s piercing blue eyes, and wait. Fortunately, I don’t need to wait for long.
My heart skips a beat in my chest as I spot him, already striding confidently through the room of writhing bodies towards me. His eyes bore into mine as he takes my drink out of my hand and knocks it back without breaking his stare. I swallow, looking up at him. His possessiveness that fueled our first meeting is still there. My body responds to him immediately, throat going dry.
“Just what do you think you’re doing?” I murmur, trying to act coquettish to break the spell.
“Don’t worry baby,” he says, swallowing my drink and crunching the cup in his fist. “Plenty more drink where we’re going. Nicer, too.”
“What?” I gasp. “Wh-where are we going?” I ask, suddenly excited by being whisked away by this man-god.
“Would you like to find out?” he growls. Conor’s impossibly masculine, staring at me like a starved beast, and the lust rolls off his massive frame in waves. I want him so badly I’d let him do anything to me.
“Yes,” I breathe, and I can see his jaw tighten at my immediate assent.
I had just enough time to text Roxy to tell her I’d find my way home on my own, when Conor suddenly turned cool. Because outside the club, he’s different. He hasn’t said a word since we got in the car, and I wait until we arrive at his place, just outside of Riverbend. After my initial surprise at being driven there in a Porsche, I was expecting a nice house, sure, but this place blows away my preconceptions. It’s not a house. It’s a full-on mansion, with a big, circular drive and giant oaks shadowing the massive lawn. Is the man who took my virginity not only a sex god, but a millionaire too?
Conor leads me through the front door and straight through the wooden beamed hallway and up the stairs. He still hasn’t said a word, and I know I should feel uncomfortable, but I don’t. I know that I’m safe with this handsome alpha male as he takes my hand and gently guides me through the many rooms of his home.
Suddenly, we’re in a bedroom. He’s standing by an antique liquor cabinet, pouring wine in two glasses, as a warm grin spread across his strong, handsome features.
“Well?” he says, handing me a glass filled with swirling liquid amber. I smile shyly.
“This is a sudden change of scenery,” is my soft murmur. I look around, wondering why he’s transported me to his home. As if he knows what I’m thinking, Conor laughs before taking a deep drink of wine.
“Let’s just say I thought this would be more comfortable than an office in a shady sex club,” he says, taking a slow step towards me. “Let’s face it, sweetheart. Neither of us really belonged there. Wouldn’t you agree?”
I nod, taking in the bedroom. It’s enormous with a vaulted ceiling, and a sparkling chandelier above the king-size bed. The bed itself could float a family, what with its grey silk sheets and abundance of pillows.