Shameless

3

She was shaking inside. She was nearly shaking on the outside.

Courtney could feel the nervous energy racing through her body, pulsing nearly as furiously as the arousal flaming across her nerve endings. Her pussy felt swollen, intensely sensitive, her clit rasping against the silk of her thong as she walked sedately down the stairs and headed for the front door.

Not that she had any true plans for the night. She would allow Ian’s chauffeur to drive her to a few clubs, perhaps dance a few hours as she drowned her sorrows and her arousal in a few stiff drinks, since Ian wasn’t volunteering his stiff cock.

And how stiff it looked beneath his slacks. Thick and long, mouthwateringly tempting. She wanted nothing more than to go to her knees and release the engorged flesh to her hungry mouth. She could almost feel it, so hard and thick her lips would feel bruised, so hot she would feel blistered. And she wanted it. Longed for it.

As she reached the foyer, she was aware of Ian moving down the steps behind her, almost stalking her as though she were his prey. A shiver worked up her spine, part trepidation, part satisfaction. Finally, his reserve was faltering. If she had known that visiting The Club would bring such a reaction, she would have done so the first week.

The ringing of the doorbell had her pausing as she shrugged on the short, thin leather jacket that matched the outfit she wore. She watched, curious, as the house butler, Jason, moved from the sitting room, casting her a cool look as he gripped the doorknob and opened the double doors.

Courtney felt the immediate tension that filled the room as Ian stepped from the stairs. She was between them, the man she longed for, and the mysterious, devilishly handsome Saudi.

“Well, my luck knows no bounds this night.” The stranger stepped into the foyer, tall, nearly as tall as Ian’s six feet three inches, his black eyes blazing with lust.

Where it had done little to affect her earlier, that look, when paired with the flames she could feel licking over her flesh from Ian’s gaze…she nearly lost the strength in her knees. Dear heaven, they had yet to even touch her, but she could feel the need to, the lust racing around them.

“Prince Khalid el Hamid Mustafa,” the butler announced his presence, his voice an irritating buzz to her side.

Courtney turned, surrounded by testosterone, until her gaze met Ian’s. What she saw there was nearly more than she could bear without begging for his touch. She turned back quickly, her lips curving into a smile as she met the Saudi’s wicked look.

“Khalid, you weren’t invited up here,” Ian sniped rudely as the butler closed the doors behind the other man.

“I need an invitation?” Khalid lifted a brow curiously, his gaze trained on her. “I wasn’t aware of that. And you haven’t introduced me to your lovely guest, Ian.”

Oh, she could just imagine the anger rising inside Ian now. She flicked a glance his way, seeing the stiff set of his shoulders, the flat line of his mouth. But his eyes were burning, not with anger, but with arousal.

“Courtney Marguerita Mattlaw. Prince Khalid el Hamid Mustafa,” he introduced them, with no pretense to civility.

“A most beautiful name, for a most beautiful young woman,” the Prince murmured as he accepted her hand, bending his head gracefully to place a dark kiss on the sensitive flesh of her wrist. “And a most bold young woman as well.”

She allowed her expression to smooth to one of amused patience as she saw the laughter in his gaze, the quick, hidden glance behind her before those dark eyes seemed to flash a hidden message her way. A co-conspirator? It appeared she might well need the help.

Besides, causing trouble was so much more fun when one had help.

“Bold?” she questioned him flirtatiously. “And what would lead you to such a conclusion?”

“It is not every young woman who would dare breach the walls of a club such as the one Ian heads. I would definitely describe such a woman as bold.”

“I believe I would use the word…adventurous rather than bold,” she amended his description. “Bold implies a less permanent trait. Adventurous is more genetic.” She glanced at Ian once again, wondering if he caught the suggestive implication.

Sweet mercy, blue eyes could burn, they could glow with lust, and he was proof of it.

“Adventurous it is,” Khalid agreed. “I wondered, as our less than charming host has thrown you from The Club, if you would perhaps grace me with your presence for dinner tonight? My chauffeur is waiting outside, the limo cozy and warm. I believe I could perhaps help relieve the incredible boredom that must be filling your day, trapped as you are with our less than adventurous Mr. Sinclair.”

Laughter trembled on her lips, though she held it back valiantly. She was certain the description of less than adventurous was a grave insult to the man she knew Ian was. But it tempted her sense of humor, her sense of daring to push him further. He had all but ignored her this week pretending there was no attraction, no need flaring between them. She wasn’t about to allow this advantage to slip through her fingers.

“What a lovely offer.” She smiled slowly, flirtatiously. “And one I’ll gratefully accept, Prince Mustafa.”

“Khalid, please.” He grimaced at the title. “Ian and his butler persist in tacking the title to the name. An illegitimate prince is not much of a prince at all. Especially one who prefers the wicked temptations of the West, rather than his father’s beliefs.”

“And some men are a prince, whether born to it, or deserving it,” she praised his offer of escape in glowing words. “I’m ready to leave whenever you are.”

His hand moved to her back, riding dangerously low on her hips, his fingers nearly cupping the curve of her ass as he steered her to the door. She allowed the muscles there to clench, the tingling arousal electrifying her as she felt Ian’s gaze on her rear.

“Courtney.” Ian’s voice stopped them as they neared the door.

Turning slowly, she met the brilliant heat emanating from his gaze.

“Yes, Ian?” Maintaining the cool façade, the appearance of control was the hardest endeavor she had met in her life. Ian’s gaze melted her, sent flames searing her pussy and electrifying her clitoris. She could orgasm from that look alone, she believed.

“There are some paths that once taken, you can never turn back,” he warned her, his voice dark, filled with intent as his eyes raked over the obvious arousal that tightened her nipples and flushed her face.

The look burned her, had the blood singing through her veins, desire pulsing in a drumbeat of desperate arousal in the depths of her pussy and the sensitive, swollen knot of her clit.

“And some paths are sought after, Ian,” she answered him, her voice just as low, throbbing in answer to the unvoiced desire. “Just as others are destined.”

She turned from him, a superhuman effort, thankful for the support of Khalid’s hand at her back as he led her outside. Cold winter air slapped her in the face, but did little to ease the heat burning through her body as he led her quickly to the limo that waited just below the steps to the house.

The chauffeur opened the door quickly, allowing her to slide into the warmth of the interior as Khalid followed at a more leisurely pace. Courtney was aware of him watching her, amusement lingering in his gaze as she breathed in roughly. Leaving the house was the hardest thing she had ever done. She wanted nothing more than to stay, to rub against Ian like a spoiled cat and feel his hands stroking over her body.

“He’ll be waiting when you return.” Khalid’s voice was low, suggestive.

Courtney glanced over him, noticing the casual grace and inborn arrogance that surrounded him like a shield. His thick black hair fell to his shoulders, framing his dark, aristocratic features. High cheekbones, a straight, hawkish nose, sensual, full lips. Those lips were almost candy, she thought. They would tempt most women to unknown daring in an attempt to taste them. Most women. But not her, not without Ian.

“Then perhaps we should let him wait a while,” she suggested with a smile, though careful to keep the width of the seat between them. “I believe he could use the time to consider his options.”

His brow arched mockingly. “You’re playing with fire, sweetheart. I’ve never seen Ian deny himself before. It’s obvious the strain is wearing on him. Should his control snap, you could be the one paying the price.”

“Or reaping the benefits,” she retorted confidently. “Ian would never hurt me, Prince Mustafa. No matter how tempted he may be.” And she had no doubt he was tempted by now.

He settled more comfortably in his seat, his black eyes filled with laughter as his lips curved into a smile.

“Do you know the beast you are tempting then?” he asked her carefully. “Ian won’t necessarily be a gentle lover. None of us who inhabit The Club truly are. Our tastes run to the extreme, Ms. Mattlaw, are you prepared for that?”

“The Trojans.” She restrained her smile as she turned in her seat, crossing her legs as she watched him carefully. “I’ve very well aware of the sort of lover Ian will be, Khalid.”

His eyes roved over her upper body slowly.

“You’re unaroused now that he is no longer in your presence. It is Ian you hunger for. But if you tempt him to your bed, you will find he will not come alone.” It was a warning, a statement of intent. He intended to be there with them.

“And I look forward to it,” she assured him. “Never doubt that I’m not aware of what Ian will ask of me, or the fact that I don’t desire it myself. But only with Ian, Prince Mustafa. Never without him.”

She had no desire to be touched, held, caressed, without him. It was one of the clues that helped her to unravel the frightening feelings she had known as she entered adulthood. Each time he had visited she had watched him, found ways to learn what she could of him. He made her feel things that for years she had been unable to understand. Brought desires and hungers that had been difficult to make sense of. And the fantasies. Even now, the thought of them made her shift in uncomfortable desire. Such fantasies she had of him.

“He will share you.” He had no intention of covering a truth he evidently believed she was unaware of.

She smiled, a slow curve of her lips meant to assure him that she knew well what was coming.

“When I was twenty-two, I happened to have need of my maid for some reason,” she recounted with a shrug, not clearly remembering now why she needed the young woman. “There were several maids who traveled with me, each resembled me strongly. That night, when I went searching for her, I happened to oversee and hear as Ian instructed her lover in taking her.” She licked her suddenly dry lips. He had mistakenly called the maid by the name Courtney as she listened. Unconsciously revealing his own hunger. “I knew then that only Ian could fulfill what I needed as well. This is my chance, Prince Mustafa. A chance to convince Ian of this as well.”

Even now the memory of that night tormented her.

Spread her ass slowly. Make her anticipate what’s to come… Slow and easy, boy, fuck that ass slow and easy, let her feel every stroke… Suck my dick, Courtney, suck it, baby. Deep…

Had he realized he was whispering her name? Courtney wondered. Had he known his voice throbbed with lust as he whispered her name?

“He could break your heart.” His gaze was suddenly serious, concerned. “You’re in love with him.”

“Of course I am,” she agreed with a soft laugh. “Why else would I be here? Do you think that if it were only sex I required that I would tolerate such a frustrating male temperament? I could find the sex anywhere, Prince Mustafa. The sex, without Ian, leaves little to be desired.”

“I’ll join him,” he told her then, leaning closer, his black eyes suddenly intent, determined. “Do you hear me, girl? When he turns that pretty ass up and spanks it until it burns, I intend to be there. Just as I intend to fuck you. And not only for one night. Ian is perhaps the most sexual, the most intent of any of The Club’s members. He will share you often, and share you well. He will leave you screaming until you’re hoarse, begging until you no longer know why you’re pleading. He will lead you into a pleasure that borders exquisite pain. Are you certain this is something you can endure?”

She rolled her eyes at the concern in his voice. The overprotectiveness she was inspiring in the men around her was becoming stifling.

“Why is everyone so certain I am unaware of what I’m seeking?” she asked him, growing weary of the warnings.

“Perhaps, because of the innocence that shines so sweetly from those dark brown eyes,” he suggested. “You have the appearance of a precocious schoolgirl. A man’s greatest sexual fantasy, his most frightening reality. Pair that with a woman fully grown and one who appears willing to fulfill every fantasy, and you would terrify even the most perverted hedonist. You, my dear, could bring Ian to his knees. And for a man as dominant, as intent on his freedom as I know Ian is, you are a weakness he can ill afford. You arouse protectiveness, in the same depths that you arouse lust. Be careful that your heart isn’t broken.”

“Marguerita, what the hell has happened to Courtney?” Dane was not at home, which was a damned good thing because Ian was ready to blister his ears. What the hell did the other man think he was doing, sending his daughter here? Here? To the same house where the now infamous Trojans met. To the same house filled with a club of depraved, perverted men who wanted nothing more than to devour her, inch by gorgeous, lovely inch.

“Courtney?” Marguerita’s soft voice held equal amounts confusion and amusement. “Why, Ian, I thought she was with you. Has she left your protection?”

His protection? What protection? He was her daddy’s worst nightmare. Didn’t they know that? Since when had Dane and Marguerita lost their ever-lovin’ minds?

“She’s out of control,” he snapped, pacing the foyer as he glanced at the grandfather clock that tick-tocked the time with an irritating cadence. “She slipped into The Club. She’s driving the members crazy. What happened to the sweet little girl I used to know?”

He raked his fingers through his hair, grimacing as he remembering the seventeen year old with knowing eyes and a glimmer of hunger. No, sweet had never described Courtney. He had just wished it had.

“Did you ever know her, Ian?” Marguerita asked then, taking him aback by the seriousness of her voice. “Courtney, despite Dane’s perception of her, is no longer a child. If you can’t deal with this, then perhaps she should return. At least here, those who know her, accept her for who she is.”

He stilled then, his body tensing at the censure in her voice.

“What do you mean by that?”

She sighed heavily. “I owe you a great debt, Ian. Had it not been for you, those years that Dane and I were separated, then I fear I would have lost him forever.”

“What does that have to do with anything?” he gritted out, remembering those years that he had trailed Dane, wondering if his friend would live to see another day. The reported deaths of his lover and child by her family had nearly destroyed Dane. For close to three years until he had sobered up enough to suspect the truth, he had been a madman.

“Courtney is much like her father,” Marguerita said then, her voice a soft warning. “She is just as dedicated and loyal to those she loves as Dane ever was. But much like Dane, and in many ways like myself, Courtney’s needs are different than others.”

He felt the breath halt in his throat. Marguerita couldn’t be saying what he thought she was, it wasn’t possible.

“She’s twenty-four years old. A virgin…”

“She’s twenty-four years old, but I highly doubt she’s still a virgin. And Dane may like to bury his head in the sand where his daughter is concerned, but I do not. Courtney has spent the last two years trying her wings, slipping easily from her pappa’s sight and learning the ways of the world. The two of you too easily discount the woman my daughter has become. And I would not have expected it of you, Ian.”

“And why’s that?” he snapped. “I’ve known her since she was a child.”

“Because you’ve been getting hard for her since she was a teenager,” Marguerita chuckled knowingly. “If you do not want Courtney, then the best thing you can do is send her home. But be careful of her heart, Ian. She is bold and adventurous. But she is still yet a woman. And one who cares deeply.”

The implicit permission he sensed in taking Courtney to his bed staggered her.

“You’re giving her to me?” He blinked at the wall across from him, shock and surprise filling him.

“Giving her to you?” Marguerita mused with a soft laugh. “I would not say this exactly. It is up to Courtney who she belongs to and who she does not. I am merely attempting to warn you of her intentions. I do not wish to see my daughter hurt. If you have no desire for her, then she is better off not within your care.”

“You know what I am,” he growled.

“As you know whose daughter she is.” He could almost see the delicate shrug of the woman’s slender shoulders. “How many women did you and my husband share during the years I was forced to another’s bed? Dane has been quite honest with me concerning that time in his life. Just as he has told me, quite explicitly, how sexual you can become with your females, either alone, or while sharing them. Just as you know well Dane’s preference. We have had a third in our marriage since the first week of our relationship. It is a pleasure we both greatly enjoy. I doubt sincerely my daughter would be scarred by your hungers, my friend.”

His hand tightened on the receiver. Yes, he knew well the lifestyle Dane and Marguerita enjoyed. He hadn’t participated himself, not with them, but he knew Marguerita, as delicate and small as she was, was married to a man who could accept nothing less than the most intense pleasures he could bring to her.

“Dane would kill me.” He grimaced, knowing it wasn’t going to make a difference.

“Dane is no hypocrite, as you well know. He will accept his daughter’s choices, even if it means accepting she is a woman, rather than a child.”

Ian snorted. Dane wasn’t the only one hiding his head in the sand if she truly believed that.

“Marguerita, you should tell Dane exactly what she’s up to and have him drag her ass home,” he sighed wearily, watching the clock tick away a mere minute.

“It would be much easier to send her home if you do not want her,” Marguerita laughed, a lilting sound that had him grimacing at the knowing tone.

“I don’t have the strength,” he finally whispered. “I’m about to make the most incredible mistake of my life, and I think I’m going to blame you for it. You’re an evil woman.”

“Ahh, so Dane tells me often.” She didn’t sound in the least apologetic. “Please give Courtney my love. Care for her, Ian. A young woman’s adventures should always be made with one understanding of her tender heart. This I trust you in.”

She disconnected, leaving Ian drifting in a sea of desire so intense it cut into his loins, and a confusion so thick it threatened to smother him. It bothered him that Marguerita had known his lust for Courtney during those first years. Seventeen, prone to hug and touch and rub against him like a little cat. He had fucked her maid raw the week he had stayed there. Several years later, it had been worse. He could still remember awakening, reaching for her, locked in dreams so erotic they were torture.

Snarling silently, he punched in another number, waiting impatiently for the phone to connect.

“Khalid.” The bastard answered the phone on the fifth ring, his voice lazy, filled with sensuality.

“Bring her home. Now.” If he had to go looking for her, he might well get them all arrested.

“I see.” Khalid’s voice was a low, deep growl. “I will take care of this.”

Ian disconnected before moving to the living room to wait. Leaning back on the couch, he loosened his pants, pulling his engorged cock free and grimacing as his fingers tightened on the torturously hard flesh.

He stared down at the ruddy flesh, the thick, violently colored crest as it swelled and pulsed within his grip. He was a large man, and he well knew it. Courtney was small, the shape of her legs, the curve of her rear, the contours of her shapely little cunt beneath her clothing assured him that her sweet little tunnel would be tight, snug.

He groaned at the thought of it, stroking his desperate flesh as his eyes closed in such need it was nearly pain. He would show her tonight the needs that tormented him. He wouldn’t begin easy. He wouldn’t allow her to dismiss the knowledge she already had.

There was something about watching a woman, holding her as another touched her, watching the agonized pleasure that transformed her features, that he could never explain to himself. Their screams of need, eyes wild, body glistening with perspiration as they fought to understand the different sensations two men could bring them. Or watching another touch her as he fucked her. Able to lose himself in the feel of a tight pussy or ass and knowing that the other male would pleasure her as she needed to reach the highest peaks of ecstasy.

Driving her crazy.

His fingers stroked over his cock, imagining her lips surrounding him, sucking him deep as she tried to scream around the thick stalk because even as she pleasured, she was being pleasured.

He was different. All the members of the Club were different. It was a difference Ian had fought for years, one he had agonized over and finally accepted. Either something was missing within him, or something was much too strong. Because the thought of holding her to him, his cock buried deep inside her as Khalid touched her, tweaked her hard nipples or filled her as well, had pre-come spilling from his dick and lubricating his fingers as his thighs tightened, his hips arching to his hand.

Her mouth. He wanted her mouth wrapped around the head of his erection, sucking it hot and deep as her slender fingers stroked the shaft. He would bury his hands in her hair, feel her screams vibrating on his cock as Khalid prepared her for further play.

He clenched his teeth, tightening his fingers on the bulging head as he imagined holding her open, fitting himself between the soft folds of flesh between her thighs and filling her. Slow. He would push in so slow, holding her still as she fought to accept him, the satin tissue of her pussy gripping him, straining to stretch around his width.

He would take her first. He would fill her, fuck her until she screamed in climax and begged for mercy before he would allow another to have her. First, she would belong to him. He would mark every sweet inch of her body with his touch and make certain she always remembered who she belonged to. Make certain it was imprinted into her very soul, that she was his first.

His.

He erupted. A hoarse groan filled the room as his release jetted from his cock, shuddered through his body and left him gasping for breath at the very thought of her accepting him, screaming his name. Silky streams of semen filled his hand, splattered onto his shirt but did nothing to lessen his hunger. Only Courtney could ease that pain, and tonight, she would sate it, or he would end up fucking her to death in the attempt.