While both of them had numerous relationships throughout the years, some lasting longer than others, all failed miserably. Their tastes included an active sexual appetite. Smith had never met a woman who fulfilled him enough, and none of their ménage relationships had ever worked out. The women they’d been with had thought they could handle two men, but it always turned out two was just a little too much.
“Why are you members?” Kyra asked.
Simple question. Simple answer.
Together, they weren’t only solid partners in business and excelled at their work, but with a woman between them, they shone. They’d shared their fortune, success, and enjoyed sharing their women.
Smith watched as Kyra took a sip of her wine and her eyes fluttered closed, indicating she enjoyed the taste of the wine. At six hundred dollars a bottle, Smith wasn’t surprised. He sat down in the leather chair to her left, gazing over the long lines of her shapely, silky legs.
Images of them wrapped around his waist while he drove into her could be his undoing. He forced his gaze onto her face again, which was currently turning a lovely rose color under his examination.
Smith liked the effect he had on her.
He fought to remember her question and cleared his throat. “Our business is our top priority. This tends to mean our time is limited. The castle has provided a means for us to enjoy sex without involving relationships. Also, it has the highest form of privacy.” Even he heard the cold distance in his voice and saw her eyebrows rise.
Every person who joined the castle signed a waiver swearing to keep things private and not share identities to nonmembers, and everyone went through STD and AIDS testing. Smith preferred knowing his sexual partners were clean rather than having casual sex with strangers from a nightclub, and the privacy of the castle offered a sense of freedom.
Kyra took another mouthful of her wine, then with a twinkle in her eyes, tipped the glass at him. “Understandable. Privacy is something I can appreciate too.”
Woman, you are to be appreciated, and then some.
Brock chuckled at Smith, clearly reading his thoughts. He turned to Kyra. “Tell us a little something of yourself. More than the basic details in the profile we saw when we discovered you, kitten.”
The side of her mouth arched at the nickname indicating she didn’t mind, and why would she? Smith had no doubt Brock lowered his voice to inflict a straight attack on her hormones.
“I’d prefer if we kept the small talk to minimum,” she said.
Smith leaned back in his seat. He’d never met a woman who didn’t want some type of intimate connection before they had sex. Not in any of the encounters that had been arranged through the castle, or relationships out of the castle for that matter.
He lifted his chin. “All business, then?”
She drank a larger sip of her wine before she lowered the glass. “We’re not here to get to know one another, are we? We’re here to fulfill my ménage fantasy.” Her eyebrows rose higher. “That is what we agreed to, yes?”
“All action. No talking.” Brock’s grin widened as he rubbed his jawline. “Damn, kitten, you’re my type of woman.”
While Brock seemed eager and accepting of her response, Smith wasn’t so easily swayed. Women, even if they came in different colors and shapes, were still women rich with emotions. Right now, Kyra acted more like a man, void of any emotional connection. “Are you comfortable with that arrangement, Kyra?”
Her deep swallow displayed her nerves, but she sipped her wine in haste controlling the reaction. “I prefer it.”
Smith grinned at her while she shifted uneasily in her seat. He enjoyed that he unnerved her, since her presence gave him a hefty erection. Plus, she made him far more interested than he’d ever been in any woman.
While he believed she had, in fact, lied to him with her answer, he wouldn’t speculate as to why. He also wouldn’t argue it out with her either. Her emotions belonged to her. “Fair enough.”
He paused while she drank her wine again. Once he had her fixated on him, he leaned forward, resting his arms on his elbows. “It’s important you’re aware of what’s ahead of you tonight. Before you arrived, Brock and I decided to make a bet on you, if you’re agreeable.”
Suspicion darkened her eyes as she lowered her glass onto her lap. “What sort of bet?”
“Your orgasms,” Brock declared.
A blush crept over her face, yet her expression didn’t hold any wrath at such a bet, which Smith would’ve expected. She blinked. “E-excuse me?”
Brock added, “The wager is simple: orgasms for points. Whoever gains the most points from your pleasure by the end of the night wins the money.”
Her pupils dilated, and her lips arched up into a sexy smile. “Might I ask what the value of this bet is?”
“Two thousand dollars,” Smith stated.