“Just to put your mind at ease, darling, I’m going to make you come again,” he said, grinning, his head between her legs.

“No,” she said. “You’ve proven your point. I can’t come any more. Let me have some rest, for God’s sake, man.” She had only been half joking. He’d already made her come three times in a row and she didn’t think she could take any more. She was on sensory overload by that point. But once again, Trevor proved her wrong.

His tongue and fingers drew a response from her, making her cry out as she held his head in place, her hands pulling at his hair. By the time he was finished, he climbed up to lay next to her, sounding very smug. “So, what’s better than exceptional?”

“I promise, I’ll never question your sexual stamina again.” She lay like a limp rag, beyond sated.

Trevor pulled her against him and wrapped his arm around her. “See that you don’t, Miss Campbell. I told you, I take my fucking very seriously.” He kissed her temple and fell asleep.

Now, Allie crawled out of bed, a little stiff from last night’s sexual gymnastics. By the lateness of the hour, she knew Trevor had already finished breakfast, so she took her time getting ready. A long, hot bath soothed her delicious aches. When she finally made her way downstairs, she found Mags in the drawing room, nursing a cup of coffee and flipping through a bridal magazine.

“Good morning, dearest,” she said.

“So, where’s Nigel?” Allie asked.

“Sunning himself by the pool. He wants to have tan legs for the wedding.”

“Do you think Trevor will ever forgive you?” Allie asked, plopping down next to Mags.

She gazed up from the magazine, a vulnerable look in her eyes which she quickly blinked away. Taking a deep breath, she thrust her shoulders back. “I think so. And if not, well, Nigel and I enjoy Las Vegas. We can stay indefinitely.”

“I’m sorry, it’s really none of my business.”

“Of course it’s your business, darling. Everything about Trevor is your business.”

“Please don’t say things like that. Trevor is…fond of me. But that’s it. I don’t want you to think there’s anything permanent between us.”

Mags’s eyes traveled over Allie’s heat-filled face. “You know, dearest, I’ve been thinking about the hen party.”

Allie sighed. Trevor didn’t fall far from the avoidance tree. “What about the hen party?”

“I think we should invite Karen.”

Allie straightened. “Guidance counselor Karen? My dad’s new girlfriend Karen?”

Mags smiled. “Yes, exactly. It would be a nice way to get to know her.”

“No. Absolutely not. It’s a terrible idea.”

“Oh.” Mags pouted prettily. “Of course, it’s your decision.”

Allie relaxed. “Good.”

“I just thought since it was my hen party, I could invite whom I wanted.”

“Mags, you don’t even know her.”

“Neither do you, but you’re right, darling, of course.” She tapped a finger against her cup. “It’s just that she’s been so involved in your father’s life and has been spending time with Brynn.”

She was right, Karen was a fixture now. Allie stood. “Fine. I’ll go call her.”

“And you’ll be sweet and ask very, very nicely?”

Allie raised one brow. “I’ll be polite, but let’s not get crazy.”

***

Three days later, Mags’s sister flew in from London. Allie wasn’t sure what to expect, but Pixie managed to make Mags seem tame. She was a few years younger, and where Mags was curvy and voluptuous, Pix was petite and slim. Somewhere in her late forties or early fifties, she looked at least fifteen years younger with a pretty, delicate heart-shaped face.

When Pix arrived from the airport, Trevor had greeted her with real affection, placing a kiss on each cheek. Her twentysomething Italian husband got a cool handshake and a cold stare.

That night, for the hen party, Pix wore a feather dress and black stacked platforms with red corset lacing along the back of the heel. Mags looked like a diva in a silver beaded dress.

Allie wasn’t thrilled about going. She didn’t want to spend an evening with Karen. It was bound to be tense and uncomfortable. When Trevor tried to talk her into staying home with him instead, she was almost persuaded.

“We could spend the evening in bed. I’ll make it worth your while, Miss Campbell. I’ll break out the handcuffs again.” He wiggled his eyebrows.

“Sorry, English. You’re going to have to spend time with your father and your new Uncle Paolo.”

“Uncle? The man’s younger than I am.”

Allie stroked his cheek. “It’s just one night. You’ll live. So will I.” She moved toward the staircase, but Trevor snagged her hand and pulled her back.

“Don’t touch the strippers darling, you don’t know where they’ve been.” He kissed her lightly before letting her go.

“Back atcha.”

She walked out the front door and scooted into the limo with Mags and Pixie. They picked Karen up a few minutes later, and as soon she climbed inside, Mags poured the champagne.

“Thank you for inviting me,” Karen said, looking at Allie.

Allie stuck a smile on her face. “Sure. Glad to have you.”

Pix produced four tiaras and handed them out. “Ladies, it’s time to get our freak on.”

Karen looked a little nonplussed but gamely placed the tiara on her head. “Where exactly are we going?”

Mags’s laugh tinkled like a fountain while Pix’s laugh was huskier, more seductive. “You’ll find out. Allie, tiara,” Pixie said.

With a sigh of resignation, Allie shoved the tiara on her head. She may as well get into the spirit of things or it would be a long night. “There, how do I look?”

Mags grinned. “Like the princess you are, dearest.”

“Here, girls.” Pix scooped up three hot-pink gift bags.

Peeking inside the bag, Allie laughed and pulled out the contents, one at a time. “Good Lord, Pix.” It was a penis paradise—rocket pockets, penis candies, mints and suckers along with a flashing pecker pin.

Karen’s eyes grew huge. “Oh my.”

“Let’s put on our pins, darlings,” Mags said. She attached hers to her one-shouldered dress. The penis-shaped pin lit from the inside with a flashing yellow light. “Now, girls, how do I look?”

With her marabou and fake rhinestone tiara and cock jewelry, she looked like a loon. But she seemed to be having such a good time, Allie said, “You look great, Mags.”

Simmons pulled to a stop in front of a club that advertised an all-male review in neon. “If you ladies need me, I’ll be right out here.” He glanced at Allie and nodded. “You have my cell number?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

As they approached the club, a shirtless hunk stood at the door taking tickets. He flashed a grin. “Welcome.”

They maneuvered through the dark interior as another muscled, shirtless man led them to their table. “Enjoy yourselves.”

“Oh, we will, pet, I promise,” Pix said.

Allie rolled her eyes. Whether she got into the spirit of the evening or not, it was definitely going to be a long night. They ordered drinks and Allie nursed hers.

Karen leaned over. “Have you ever been here?”

“No,” Allie said. “Do you feel uncomfortable?”

Karen pointed to a waiter across the room. “That was one of my students a couple of years ago. It’s strange.”

Yeah, Allie imagined it would be. The lights dimmed and she turned toward the stage.

A guy in a tux introduced the strippers. The music overhead blared out a patriotic theme, and one by one, hot men, their muscles bulging, stepped out onto the stage, each in a different military uniform.

“Oh, I love a man in a uniform,” Mags said.

Pix smiled. “I love a man out of one.”

It was like being with two middle-aged, horny teenagers.

The guys danced across the stage, ripping off their uniforms. Those tan, virtually naked men—save for the banana hammock G-strings—strutted around and froze in a series of bodybuilder poses. There were hip thrusts, gyrations, and one could work his ass like a paint shaker.