to take you into the nearest corner and fuck your beautiful little ass.”
Chapter Seventeen
Walking with the butt plug presented a challenge, especially wearing the sky-high silver heels Sam had insisted she wear. When the limo started, the movement of the car over the pavement caused the strange triangle at the front of the harness to rub her clit. By the time they arrived at the Georgetown condominium, every cell had been caressed and sensitized so each breath was a struggle not to come. Sam hadn’t been kidding when he’d said she’d be ready to drag him into a corner and beg him to fuck her-and the night had barely started.
The limo had just slid to a stop when a valet opened the rear door. As Sam led her up the steps, Rosie whispered, “You’re evil, did you know that?”
A smug satisfied smile lit up Sam’s face “Baby, any time you want to find a dark corner, just holler.”
They walked into a luxurious lobby with a water wall on one side and a double-sided fireplace separating them from the resident’s lounge. A wave of music and chatter washed over them from farther down the hall.
Damn, she wished she’d had a chance to discover just how many people were here tonight. And had a chance to vet the guest list despite Sam’s repeated assurances that they were all friends and told her not to worry about it. Of course, she had, but when she’d called their host, Cooper Davis had flat out refused to provide a list and told her to talk to Sam.
The concierge led them to an elegant though rather bland entertainment room.
They were fashionably late and the party was in full swing. A black grand piano and a string quartet entertained while tuxedoed staff ferried trays of champagne and hors d’oeuvres amongst the two-dozen guests. She glanced at Kris, who nodded and began a full sweep of the cocktail area. Andy had parked the limo and now mingled through the crowd, keeping a close eye on both her and Sam. To her surprise, Chad was there, greeting the guests by name which gave her some relief. If they passed his muster, they posed no threat to Sam.
Several of the people she’d met had mentioned La Porte Rouge, sometimes simply referring to it as the club, but despite her requests, neither Sam nor Chad had ever explained exactly what or where this club was so she could check it for potential suspects. Something she intended to rectify when she got home.
A woman in her forties, her shoulder-length black hair embellished by a single streak of bright red, swept up to them.
“Samuel, mon amis.” She began speaking in rapid French and Sam replied in kind.
As she scanned the guests for possible threats, Rosie absently wondered if his French bore a southern accent.
Sam’s introduction brought her attention back to the woman in front of them. “Jocelyne, I’d like you to meet Rosalinda Ramos. Rosie, this is Jocelyne Garneau.”
“I’m honored to meet you, Rosalinda.” Jocelyne pulled Rosie into a hug and air-kissed both cheeks. When she pulled back, she continued to hold both of Rosie’s hands while gazing fondly up at Sam. “Samuel, my dear boy, now I understand why you haven’t been to the club lately. She’s absolutely adorable. Come, you must introduce her to Cooper.”
They were spared a long search when a barrel-chested man a couple inches shorter than Sam headed toward them, a martini glass in hand. “Sam! It’s about time you made it. I was starting to worry we’d have to send out the troops to fetch you.”
“Coop, happy birthday! How’s it feel to hit the big four oh?”
As Sam exchanged handshakes and insults with their host, Rosie stood back and assessed him. In a few years, the man’s hair would be completely grey, but for now there was still a fair portion of pepper in the salt.
From what she could dig up in their files, Cooper Davis was the head of a computer networking company and had been a friend of Sam’s for eight years. But she’d not been able to discover how they’d met and become friends. When she’d asked, Sam just murmured something about like tastes and kissed her senseless.
Her lips tingled at the memory as Sam introduced her to the birthday boy. When she shook his hand, his grip was firm, but held no sign of calluses, and from the peek she’d taken at his fingers, it looked like he’d recently had a manicure. Yet despite his deceptively mild appearance, Cooper Davis reminded her of a wolf sunning himself on a rock. Languid and laid back, but ready to strike at a moment’s notice.
While Davis was holding her hand, her thong started vibrating against her clit. A quick glance showed Sam with his hand in his pocket. The danged thing must be remote controlled. She shot Sam a glare, which he returned with a smug smile and a wink.
It took every ounce of control to maintain a smile and keep her voice steady as she wished their host a happy birthday.
“So this is the little lady who’s kept Sam away from our club.” Cooper’s wire-rimmed glasses couldn’t hide how his gaze slid over her in a quick assessment, one that had her body adopting a defensive position though she couldn’t determine why. Maybe it was how his grasp had tightened about her fingers. Or maybe it was the way his thumb caressed her knuckles in a strangely possessive gesture. “I look forward to getting to know you better, my dear.”
“This is about as well as you’re gonna get to know her, Coop.” There was a hard edge to Sam’s voice that made the hairs on the back of Rosie’s neck prickle.
“You’ll have to excuse these two, Miss Ramos. Neither are good with sharing their toys,” a cultured voice from behind their host suggested. “Cooper, darling, why don’t you get Sam and his guest some champagne?”
Rosie relaxed when their host released her hand and stepped back, revealing the speaker wheeling toward them.
“Thalia,” Sam murmured as he bent down to kiss her cheek. “How have you been, my lady?”
“Very well, thank you.” She stopped in front of them and smiled, holding out her hand. “You must be Rosie. Jocelyne mentioned Sam had brought you. I’m Thalia Harper, this is my husband, Spencer.” She waved at the man who had been pushing her. He gave a rather old-fashioned bow. “Come with me, and I’ll introduce you to our little family.”
Spencer maneuvering her chair through the crush of people, Thalia introduced Rosalinda to the other guests, several of whom she recognized-one was a well known television personality, others from C-Span-at least one was a Senator, along with a couple congressmen. A tall blonde on the arm of one of the congressmen threw her arms around Sam’s neck.
“Sammy, you came! I’ve missed you in the grotto.”
Grotto? What the hell went on at the grotto? Was that another club?
A pained look on his face, Sam pulled the woman’s arms away and stepped back. “Mandy, I’d like you to meet Rosalinda Ramos. Rosie, Amanda Henderson.”
Where Rosie was short, Mandy was tall. Not just tall, but as graceful as a ballerina. Where she had black hair that looked like she’d stuck her finger in a light socket until it had burnt to a crisp, Mandy’s long blonde hair streamed in golden waves over her shoulders and down the bare expanse of her back.
Rosie slowly released her breath so no one around them would notice her sigh. Mandy’s body, like most of the other women tonight, was the epitome of surgical perfection. How could a regular gal like her compete? Especially for someone like Sam Watson.
Mandy spared Rosie her own quick assessing glance, then obviously decided she had no competition as she ignored her. “Sammy, why haven’t you come to the club lately? It’s not the same without you.”
A brunette dressed entirely in leather complete with a steel-studded dog collar and thigh-high patent leather boots slithered through the crowd and wrapped one leg around Sam’s hip and clung to him as she purred a welcome. If Mandy was a ballerina, this woman was a pole dancer with Sam the pole.
Rosie narrowed her eyes. No real boobs in the world retained their shape like that. Not unless they were supported by an underwire which the other woman obviously wasn’t using considering the design of the…well, it wasn’t so much of a dress, more like a series of straps concealing the important bits. Not that Rosie thought she was any slouch in the boob department, but the brunette’s perky missiles could have drilled holes into granite.
“Tawny.” Sam peeled the woman off him. “Where’s Cooper? Isn’t he your trainer lately?”
Tawny’s collagen-enhanced lips pouted when he kept her at arm’s length. “Coop says he needs to talk to you
