Dirty Filthy Fix: A Fixed Trilogy Novella (Fixed #5.5)(2)

I, on the other hand, would never settle. Could never settle.

I loved sex.

Kinky sex.

All kinds of dirty, filthy, kinky sex. I liked to watch. I liked to participate. Every weekend I could, I attended the Saturday night parties the Open Door hosted out of one of the members’ fancy penthouses or mansions in the country, decked out in one of my gowns, my mask hiding my features. I saved all my money for those dresses. I made it through the long hours at my fast-paced desk job at Pierce Industries only by looking forward to these nights at the Open Door.

This was the best part of my life. By far. And I never intended to give it up.

Chuck Richard was one of the gentlemen who attended these parties as often as I did, and he was well aware of my rules. We’d played plenty of times in the past, and he’d never minded my strict adherence to these self-imposed ordinances. We’d had fun despite the no-penetration rule. He was great with his mouth, and generous too, and I could give a hand job better than anyone in the room.

Chuck was also very into exhibitionism, which was one of my favorite kinks. He’d let anybody watch or touch me, while he sucked on my tits and fingered me to orgasm. That was why we had a small audience tonight as I sat on his lap, his hand under the silk of my gray gown so he could fondle my breasts.

There were reasons I never wore a bra to these things, and Chuck Richard’s gifted hands were reasons number one and two.

But tonight his hands weren’t doing it for me. I was feeling antsy. I was having fun, and I was also…bored. Despite my love of the parties and the sex and the company, I just couldn’t quite get into the groove. It was probably a hormonal thing. Or a weather thing. Or a too-preoccupied-with-work thing.

Whatever it was, Chuck’s insistence that I go home with him meant that it was time for me to go. On my own.

“It’s getting late.” I began my exit routine.

Chuck rocked his hips against my ass. “Oh, baby. Just this once. If not my house, let’s go into the bathroom. I want to know what it feels like to be inside you.”

Nope, nope, nope. I wasn’t breaking my rule. I’d never been tempted—not since I’d made it, and if I was ever going to be tempted, it wasn’t going to be by Chuck Richard. The only reason I was even the slightest bit aroused tonight was because of that green-eyed stranger. He’d also been the only reason I’d stayed as long as I had. That chiseled jaw. His manicured hands. Right now he was watching the Greek lovefest going on in the corner. Earlier he’d been watching a petite masked vixen getting spanked by a guy I knew as Rudolpho.

I wondered what it would be like if it were the stranger doing the spanking instead.

If I were the masked vixen in his lap.

I really had to get out of there.

“Sorry.” Not sorry. “But I’m out for the night. I’ll tell you what, boys,” I said as they collectively groaned. “I will give one of you a kiss goodnight. All you have to do to earn that kiss is whisper in my ear. Whichever one of you makes me wet will get the honor.”

Whoops. I realized only after I’d announced the contest that I’d just admitted that Chuck’s fondling hadn’t done the job already. It was clear he’d gotten the point since he changed tactics and one hand was now stroking my thigh at the slit of my gown, creeping higher along my skin, trying to tantalize me.

“I’ll go first,” he said, not letting go of me.

“It’s only fair you have the first shot.” Since he was the reason I was leaving, after all.

“I’m so fucking hard for you right now,” he whispered. He rubbed his length between the cheeks of my ass. “Can you feel me? I’d make you come. So fucking hard. If you let me be inside you.”

“Oh my!” I fanned myself, feigning interest in his remarks. On another night they might have done the trick, or at least earned him a blowjob. Tonight they just felt crude.

“I want to try next.” Kennedy was already inching toward me. That was all I knew of him—his last name, I believed. He wore a mask as well, one of the few men who kept his on. Most of the men who didn’t take them off were politicians hiding from the limelight, or husbands afraid of their wives catching them out.

If I had to place a bet, I’d guess Kennedy was the latter. But with a last name like that, he wanted us to believe he was the former.

“What have you got, Kennedy?” I didn’t get up off of Chuck’s lap. Kennedy rose up to his knees to whisper. Chuck continued to caress me—a move that wasn’t in his best interest, considering that if he got me wet while Kennedy was whispering, it would be Kennedy who earned the kiss.

“You’re really pretty,” he said. All the confidence he’d had on the floor in front of me was fading into shyness. “I want to see under your mask.” I should have seen that coming a mile away. He asked me at least once every time I saw him.

Pretty ironic for a man who never shed his own disguise.

“Aw, well, that’s not up for grabs, sweetheart. But if you’re a good boy, maybe you’ll win the contest and get a kiss instead.” I’d kissed him before. Plenty. He was a good kisser. He smiled up at me, excited by the offer.

“Hold on a second, doll,” Andrew said, gently pushing his lover off his cock. “Don’t go anywhere with those lips. I definitely want more. But first I’m going to try to earn a kiss.”