She slid off the desk, fluffed her skirt and took his arm. “And what do you collect?”
Steering her away from the growing crowd on the other side of the room, where Dane was holding court, he led her to the first collection.
He watched as her eyes widened and a delighted smile lit up her face. “You have the Borel Les Mémoires de Saturnin series. Were did you find it?”
“From a dealer in France.” He pointed at the next set of framed etchings. “And the Carracci Loves of the Gods series.”
Like Belle, he had a collection of erotic artwork. Unlike Belle, his parents hadn’t been as tolerant of his less-than-acceptable—at least to his parents—interests as a teenager.
He’d learned not to upset his mother with his fascination with sex and all the ways in which you could do it. But he’d lived for the times he could royally piss off his father by throwing it in his disapproving face.
Who had no room to talk, the cheating bastard.
“How long have you been collecting?” Belle had moved ahead of him, her sharp gaze examining each piece thoroughly. She looked engrossed.
Jared wanted her again, wanted to bend her over the rolled arm of the nearest sofa and take her.
He was becoming obsessed. And that could be dangerous. And then there was that pin…
He shook off the thought. “When I was twenty-one and came into my inheritance from my grandparents. Every penny I made working for my father at his hotel went into an account for the day Tyler and I bought this place. Most of the money from my grandparents went into the hotel as well but I saw a Beardsley piece at a shop when I was looking for the furnishing for this room and I was hooked.”
“I’m not much of a Beardsley fan, but I do love Fendi. His work’s so bright and playful.”
She stopped finally before his most prized possession. She’d lost her smile but her expression had turned soft, almost yearning.
“You have an original O’Malley.” Her voice had lowered to an almost reverent whisper.
“He’s one of my favorites, though I only have this one original. I do have a few sketches but he’s hard to come by.”
“Some people only buy him because of the scandal attached to his name.”
He heard the question she didn’t ask. “Not me. His death was a tragedy. And his wife’s and lover’s.”
“You don’t think they deserved what they got? For the lifestyle they lived?”
He frowned, trying to figure out what exactly she was asking. And why? “Everyone’s entitled to live their life the way they want, as long as they don’t hurt anyone else. From what I know, O’Malley and his lovers never hurt anyone. All the nontabloid accounts of their lives say they were passionate, wild, and totally in love. All three of them. The woman who killed them should’ve just taken herself out. She robbed the world of a great talent.”
Nodding, Annabelle’s gaze practically caressed the painting of Catrina O’Malley and Danton Romero by Peter O’Malley. It was one of a seven-part series featuring Catrina and Romero in various sexual positions. Jared hoped one day to own all seven.
“She was beautiful, wasn’t she?”
He nodded, though he doubted Annabelle was expecting an answer to her question. “I think so, yes. And O’Malley painted her beautifully.”
“The right artist, the right muse.”
“Do you have any of his work?”
Now Annabelle turned her attention back to him. “A few pieces, yes.”
“Are they for sale?”
“No,” she said, and turned to continue her examination of the rest of his collection.
They talked art for a while longer and he held up his end of the conversation. But mainly, he watched Belle.
Others were arriving, a few couples already pairing off and heading for dark corners.
Belle didn’t seem to notice. Her entire attention was focused on the artwork. And on him. The thought occurred to him that she was avoiding the other couples.
Until she turned away from his collection and focused those bright green eyes on him.
“So, are we going to join the rest of the party?”
Five
Annabelle felt as if she’d had restraints removed.
As if she’d been given a free pass into a world of sensual pleasure, a world she’d never experienced.
Tomorrow, she’d return to her dusty antiques shop and her sheltered life. Tonight, she didn’t want to waste a second.
From the moment the other man had joined them, from the moment he’d put his mouth on her breast, she’d let go of her inhibitions.
Or, more correctly, Jared had released her from them.
She’d never had sex in front of other people before, had never had the opportunity or the inclination.
Tonight…Tonight, she wanted to experience everything.
Her body still tingled from the most explosive orgasm of her life. She wanted Jared to touch her again.
And she wondered if she was a latent exhibitionist. And possibly a voyeur.
Because she knew the others who had entered the room were pairing off. Some of them in more than pairs.
And she wanted to watch.
“Would you like to join the rest of the party?” he asked in response to her question.
She let her smile be her answer.
Jared obviously came to the right conclusion and he pulled her against him. Even in her heels, she still had to tilt her head back to look into his eyes. And when she did, he kissed her. A deep, lingering kiss that made her pussy clench and her blood sizzle. Again.
She wanted to melt into him, into the hard contours of his chest and the thick muscles of his thighs. The man had a body worth worshipping and she still hadn’t seen him naked.
She wanted to. Needed to.
But anticipation was a good thing.
After he eased back from the kiss, Jared turned her in his arms and leaned down to speak directly into her ear. “Watching is sometimes almost as much fun as participating.”
His warm breath brushed against her skin, making her blood pressure rise again. With one finger under her chin, he directed her gaze to the left, toward the piano.
A man had taken the seat and started to play while a woman knelt at his feet, sucking his cock. His eyes were closed in ecstasy but his fingers flew over the keys, never hitting what sounded like a wrong note.
The woman’s blonde head bobbed up and down to the rhythm of the music, one hand beneath her skirt.
Jared’s finger nudged her chin again and she focused on the threesome on one of the chaise lounges. The woman lay on her back, her head hanging off the end as she sucked the man standing above her while another buried himself inside her.
She caught sight of the man who’d joined her and Jared seated on a plush, armless chair seemingly designed for exactly what he was doing—letting a woman ride him, her fingers clutched in his hair, her blue silk dress pulled up around her waist, his pants puddled around his shoes on the floor.
Her lips parted, her lungs unable to get enough air. Heat drenched her body, threatening to make her overheat. She knew she couldn’t hide her reaction from Jared and didn’t bother to try.
She’d never been so turned on in all her life and the more she watched the others around her, the more she wanted Jared.
Her sex began to throb, clenching in need and wet with desire. Without her panties, her juices would be running down her legs soon.
As if he’d read her mind or sensed her need, the hand he’d had resting on her hip moved down her thigh, stroking along her filmy skirt before sliding his hand under it. He teased along the outer flesh of her leg for several seconds, making her breath catch, before he curled his fingers around her thigh. He let his hand rest there for several seconds as she continued to stare at the other couples. Her focus started to blur as her entire attention focused on his hand.