Page 41 of The Chase
I gave a nod.
“Don’t let go.” His palm slipped against mine and our fingers interlocked. “I’ve got you.”
The relentless thumping of the rave grew louder.
In a haze of dizziness, I gripped Tobias’s hand as though my life depended on it. And in a way it did.
This visceral revelation felt like an awakening and tonight without question, there was proofthisreally existed. My innocence, though not essentially pure, was under threat from what we were about to experience—
Had that brief time in Tobias’s home been when he’d studied me? Assessing if I would mold to his will and endure a night of debauchery at one of England’s most exclusive palaces?
My hand was squeezed tight by his, his thumb caressing my wrist as we walked through. The room felt warmer. Scented with expensive perfumes merging with richly textured colognes. Vibrations beneath my stilettos, crackling electricity surrounding us as though the air itself was magnetized, moans rising and falling—
I could hear the sounds of men and woman fucking all around us.
Tobias guided me onward, gently coaxing our way around tables, or perhaps lovers in the throes of passion, or goodness knows what, my imagination swirling with what I sensed unfolded from behind this makeshift blindfold.
And if removed...
A sea of bodies interlocked.
Low voices and moans carried around us, offering their demands of need, their squeals of laughter, proving that whatever they were doing was consensual, these men and women wanting to be here and from the sounds of pleasure that echoed their gratification was real and for some blindingly brilliant.
The sound of spanking. Erotic wails resonated.
My own arousal betrayed me and dampened my panties as if a Romanesque orgy was socially acceptable and their reckless lovemaking was normal for a weeknight.
To our left a scream of an orgasm tore out. The dreaminess of not knowing, never seeing. We paused for a beat and I froze.
“Almost there,” came Tobias’s low voice.
Coldness enveloped me and I sensed we were out as fading groans trailed behind until the doors closed and muffled the music and everything else, those rolling waves of lust now silent.
My heels clicked on stone.
Another door, another room and, warm again, I sensed we’d made it. My suspicions were confirmed as Tobias guided me to raise my arms into the air, the soft material of the beautiful Alexander McQueen gown being tugged over my body as he redressed me.
The blindfold lifted from my eyes. “Are you okay?” He studied my face.
I managed a nod and turned to the mirror to fluff my hair.
“That wasn’t part of the plan,” he said. “Obviously.”
Blinking, I watched him place his tie back around his collar.
He wrapped it into a neat bow. “I screwed up.”
It was impossible to show I wasn’t affected, my breathing ragged from walking through that lust-filled ballroom.
He threw me a look of apology, and I turned away and fiddled with my shoulder strap as though it needed it.
My shoulders relaxed and I exhaled a deep breath as though I’d been holding it the entire time.
“Let’s get outta here.” He took my hand.
Through the foyer we walked out into the night, the crispness welcoming our freedom and highlighting what we’d left behind.
To our left rolled a silver Bentley pulling out of its parking space. It drove our way.
