Read Online A Betty's Pledge: Volume One by Emma Husher - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Emma Husher
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witnessed between
the Vances among the other guests. Perhaps there was more to this whole Grant thing
than I’d originally anticipated. After all, Adam was alumni and happily married to
his wife of what seemed to be many years. I only deduced that because the woman appeared
to be about the same age as him. He’d yet to trade her in for the common trophy wife
the financially well-endowed seemed to have at his age.
I noticed that the atmosphere at the party seemed to be changing, slightly melting
away into a more amatory scene then it had been previously. The night was becoming
darker as the hours waned, leaving the party veiled and mysterious. Many of the older
guests were starting to retire, leaving the younger Pledges, Consorts, and mated couples
alone to enjoy the evening.
I saw a couple over in the corner, their heads bent together as they whispered into
each other’s ears. Another threesome—a man and two women—headed toward the cabanas,
choosing one of the canopies farther away from the guests and pulling the top down
for privacy.
Several other people were also showing signs of filtering off into selective groups,
and I had the feeling that anyone left knew exactly what being a Grant entailed; there
were none of the uninformed guests lingering behind, and my heartbeat picked up into
a steady, excited rhythm at that prospect.
Game on, Cain.
A movement out of the corner of my eye caught my attention. The man under the tree
was watching me again, gazing at my body with that same intensity he had earlier.
He intrigued me so much that I didn’t shy away from his blatant assessment, positioning
myself so that my body was on better display for his liking.
Maybe Carson did have a point to the benefits of seductive clothing . . .
His gaze shot to mine just then. I quirked an eyebrow at him in question, wanting
to know if he liked what he saw. He intentionally let his eyes roam my body, pausing
on certain areas he found the most intriguing. I felt my insides heat as he watched
me, the carnality of it so severe and raw it made my breath catch inside my chest.
Once he was done with his ogling, I invited him over with a slight nod of my head.
A bare hint of surprise echoed in the back of my mind at my brazen confidence in front
of so much sexual tension, but I chalked it up to the liquid courage I’d been consuming
since I’d arrived. Plus, I was never one to avoid attention; I just didn’t like to
advertise my assets for the entire world to bid on.
As he approached, I watched the way his body moved toward me like a panther, all smooth
lines and the grace of an elegant feline. His gaze was sharp and intent on me, like
I was his sole concentration in a sea of distraction.
Out from beneath the shadow of the tree, I could better appreciate his choice of costume
for the evening. His black slacks were tailored to his body perfectly, hugging his
waistline and hips, sitting just low enough to leave the swell of his groin slightly
accented beneath the thin fabric. He had a tight, short-sleeved collared shirt on
that seemed like a second skin clinging to his muscled arms. A fitted, black pinstriped
vest covered his torso with a skinny black tie down the middle. The only thing that
was missing from his ensemble was a black fedora and a stogie, and then the 1920s
gangster ensemble would be complete.
As I’d assumed before, he was tall and lean, with just the right amount of definition
where a man needed it the most. His arms were toned and corded with obvious strength,
but not overtly so. Perfect for grabbing me in the throes of passion. A man’s ability
to take control during sex, using his superior strength to contort a woman’s body
in a position better to his liking had always been a huge turn-on to me.
His hair was longer than I anticipated, slicked back to match the style of his costume
and curling just below his ears. I wondered what
the Vances among the other guests. Perhaps there was more to this whole Grant thing
than I’d originally anticipated. After all, Adam was alumni and happily married to
his wife of what seemed to be many years. I only deduced that because the woman appeared
to be about the same age as him. He’d yet to trade her in for the common trophy wife
the financially well-endowed seemed to have at his age.
I noticed that the atmosphere at the party seemed to be changing, slightly melting
away into a more amatory scene then it had been previously. The night was becoming
darker as the hours waned, leaving the party veiled and mysterious. Many of the older
guests were starting to retire, leaving the younger Pledges, Consorts, and mated couples
alone to enjoy the evening.
I saw a couple over in the corner, their heads bent together as they whispered into
each other’s ears. Another threesome—a man and two women—headed toward the cabanas,
choosing one of the canopies farther away from the guests and pulling the top down
for privacy.
Several other people were also showing signs of filtering off into selective groups,
and I had the feeling that anyone left knew exactly what being a Grant entailed; there
were none of the uninformed guests lingering behind, and my heartbeat picked up into
a steady, excited rhythm at that prospect.
Game on, Cain.
A movement out of the corner of my eye caught my attention. The man under the tree
was watching me again, gazing at my body with that same intensity he had earlier.
He intrigued me so much that I didn’t shy away from his blatant assessment, positioning
myself so that my body was on better display for his liking.
Maybe Carson did have a point to the benefits of seductive clothing . . .
His gaze shot to mine just then. I quirked an eyebrow at him in question, wanting
to know if he liked what he saw. He intentionally let his eyes roam my body, pausing
on certain areas he found the most intriguing. I felt my insides heat as he watched
me, the carnality of it so severe and raw it made my breath catch inside my chest.
Once he was done with his ogling, I invited him over with a slight nod of my head.
A bare hint of surprise echoed in the back of my mind at my brazen confidence in front
of so much sexual tension, but I chalked it up to the liquid courage I’d been consuming
since I’d arrived. Plus, I was never one to avoid attention; I just didn’t like to
advertise my assets for the entire world to bid on.
As he approached, I watched the way his body moved toward me like a panther, all smooth
lines and the grace of an elegant feline. His gaze was sharp and intent on me, like
I was his sole concentration in a sea of distraction.
Out from beneath the shadow of the tree, I could better appreciate his choice of costume
for the evening. His black slacks were tailored to his body perfectly, hugging his
waistline and hips, sitting just low enough to leave the swell of his groin slightly
accented beneath the thin fabric. He had a tight, short-sleeved collared shirt on
that seemed like a second skin clinging to his muscled arms. A fitted, black pinstriped
vest covered his torso with a skinny black tie down the middle. The only thing that
was missing from his ensemble was a black fedora and a stogie, and then the 1920s
gangster ensemble would be complete.
As I’d assumed before, he was tall and lean, with just the right amount of definition
where a man needed it the most. His arms were toned and corded with obvious strength,
but not overtly so. Perfect for grabbing me in the throes of passion. A man’s ability
to take control during sex, using his superior strength to contort a woman’s body
in a position better to his liking had always been a huge turn-on to me.
His hair was longer than I anticipated, slicked back to match the style of his costume
and curling just below his ears. I wondered what
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