Free Promiscuous by Missy Johnson Page A

myself a glass of whisky over ice and shrugged out of my jacket, hanging it neatly over the back of the chair. My phone beeped. I read the message and raised my eyebrows.
    The Carousel tonight. Well, that was something different. Again, Beth was surprising me. The Carousel was definitely a popular haunt for celebrities, but a little more sophisticated than the type of place I’d have expected her to go for. I replied to my contact and headed for the bathroom, leaving the untouched drink sitting on the counter.
    “Scarlett?” I hollered, walking down the hallway. Silence greeted me. Satisfied that I was alone, I headed into the bathroom. I unbuttoned my shirt and peeled it off, disposing of it in the laundry hamper. I unzipped my pants, and stepping out of them and my boxers, I walked over to the shower and turned it on. The steam from the hot water rose quickly toward the ceiling vent, filling the bathroom.
    God, that feels good.
    Nothing matched the feeling of a nice hot shower, especially on a cold day. Tilting my head back, I sighed as the water drizzled over my face, plastering my hair against my forehead.
    Pouring the liquid soap into the palm of my hand, I massaged it into my skin, paying extra attention to my cock, which hardened against my touch. My mind wandered back to Beth and Scarlett last week—how badly I’d just wanted to rip out my dick and jerk off. Beth had me feeling so fucking turned on that it had taken all my resolve to stay in control. And then in her kitchen, when she took off that robe, with her perfect round breasts, and her hard, erect nipples pointing at me, begging to be sucked . . .
    Fuck, I want her so badly it hurts.
    I curled my hand around my erection and closed my eyes, picturing that perfect little body. God, the things I wanted to do to her. I thought about the club—my club—and imagined taking her there. How would she react? She struck me as the kind of girl who would enjoy it, but with her I just couldn’t quite tell if all that promiscuity was just an act.
    But that didn’t stop me from imagining she was kneeling in front of me, taking my cock in her tight little mouth. I groaned, picturing those big green eyes gazing up at me as she sucked furiously. My fist worked the length of my shaft with speed as the pressure began to build inside me.
    “Fuck,” I hissed as I ejaculated, the pounding water washing away all the evidence. Leaning my head against the tiled wall, I breathed heavily, trying to regain my composure, and refusing to feel guilty about what I’d just done. If it prevented me from doing something stupid tonight, then what harm did jerking off to her do?
    ***
    I arrived at The Carousel and paid the valet the $15 parking fee, even though what I really wanted to do was park my own damn car and tell him to fuck off. Fifteen dollars for him to move the car down three spots? What a fucking joke.
    I stalked inside, still annoyed, but trying to shake off my mood. Louisa used to say my ability to get worked up about silly little things was one of the things that drove her crazy.
    And here I was, thinking my passion was endearing.
     
    I never had any trouble getting in anywhere, because the right people knew who I was. Believe it or not, I had a reputation. A quiet one, but one all the same.
    My club was very well known among the circles that mattered. Initially, I’d been worried that Beth would recognize me. But she didn’t, thank Christ. Not that it would have changed much, but if she’d recognized me, she might have eventually connected the rest of the dots.
    I spotted her, sitting by the bar, alone. Slowing to a stop, I watched her for a moment, captivated by her beauty and obvious sadness. She slowly stirred her drink with her straw, her eyes downward, oblivious to the fact that she was by far the sexiest woman in the place.
    She wore a short white dress that made her tanned skin just glow, and showcased her long legs. God, she was doing to me what no other woman