Page 11 of Only For Your Touch
She frowned. “You mean a BDSM club or something?”
“No, an aphrodisiac club,” he corrected. “Almost anything goes here. Nothing demeaning or sick. And nothing illegal. But everything else? BDSM. Bondage. Voyeurism. Role play. And more. Here, it’s all about the fantasy, and people go through an intense application process and pay a fee to have that fantasy. You’re going in as my guest, and that binds you to the same rules as members, especially confidentiality. And consent. Always consent. Understand?”
“Yes,” she said, glancing behind him at the closed door before returning her attention to him. “You’re not leaving me, right?”
“No,lisichka,” he murmured. “I won’t leave your side.”
“Okay.” She nodded, released a small puff of air. “Okay,” she repeated. “Anything else?”
“One more thing. I need a safe word from you. Just one, and it can’t be no or yes. If you say this word, I shut down whatever we’re doing. Immediately. It’s like a kill switch, and it’s for your protection.”
She frowned, and he had to forcibly keep his hands by his sides instead of smoothing out the crease between her eyebrows. He wouldn’t touch her, even in a small way, until she had all the information about what to expect, and their boundaries were set.
“Grand slam,” she finally said. He narrowed his eyes, and she shrugged. “What? People say it like it’s one word.”
Shaking his head, he turned back around, swallowing his chuckle. Once more he keyed in his code and, this time, pushed the door open. A small, delicate hand slipped into his, and he stiffened even as his fingers closed around hers. Had he ever held hands with a woman? Even a girl? No. Surprise ricocheted through him, pinging off the wall of his chest. Hell no, he never had.
Part of him almost jerked his hand free, the gesture causing an unsettling itch to prickle under his skin. But before he shook off her touch, logic reigned. She was entering a totally foreign, new place, and he’d just promised not to leave her side. Holding his hand was probably her way of ensuring he kept his word. Of having something secure and familiar to cling to as she entered a world she didn’t know how to navigate. Accepting this reason, he tightened his grip and guided her forward into the converted warehouse lofts that housed the aphrodisiac club.
“Holy shit,” she whispered.
He glanced down at her before following the direction of her wide-eyed stare into the large, open area of the playroom. Couches, tables, and benches dotted the space, and a tall St. Andrew’s Cross stood in one of the corners. Beyond the wide room, a corridor led to several private rooms, their multicolored doors closed. Murals of masked dancers in ornate costumes and an opulent ballroom with a crystal chandelier and a mysterious robed figure adorned the walls that weren’t exposed brick. Rion’s doing. As were the different colors of the doors lining the hallway. It was all from one of the Edgar Allan Poe stories he loved to read.
But he doubted her gasped expletive had been about the décor. That honor more than likely belonged to the play already in progress.
On one of the wide armchairs, a woman, bare from the waist up, perched on the lap of a man, who tweaked and pinched her nipples. Both watched two women on the opposite sofa rub and grind their pussies together.
An older man in a gray business suit lounged in a corner of another black, leather couch, a tumbler in one hand, his other buried in the hair of the younger man straddling his lap, kissing him with a passion that had only one destination. Whether it would end up in one of the rooms or here in the playroom for everyone to watch was the only question.
And in the corner of the room, a blonde woman wearing only a deep-pink thong orgasmed loud and rough as a man delivered lashes to her ass and thighs with a whip.
Just another night in The Loft, but for Corrine… He returned his attention to her face, studying it for hints of discomfort, disgust, or worse, fear. But one look at her…Fuck. He grit his teeth against the blast of lust that barreled through him and culminated in his dick. Color slashed her cheekbones, but it wasn’t from embarrassment. It was excitement. Her green eyes glittered with hunger, hoarse pants broke on her parted lips, and her breasts rose and fell under the loose, white halter top. He recognized this expression. It’d taunted him since the night before, featuring in the few hours of sleep he’d managed to grab. He’d expected her to be shocked, maybe repulsed.
He hadn’t predicted the need that suffused her beautiful features—as if she’d walked into a room with a long buffet table weighted down with food and hadn’t realized she was starving until her eyes lit on the offerings.
“Be right back. Don’t move,” he rasped. He circled the wide carpeted area and strode down the shadowed corridor to one of the rooms. Quickly, he found what he sought, then returned to Corrine. She’d obeyed his instructions and hadn’t moved, her scrutiny still pinned to the sexual play unfolding before her.
Shifting behind her, he settled a black half mask in the shape of a butterfly over the upper half of her face. She jolted in surprise, her hands immediately flying to touch the lace concealing her features, but she didn’t object. In seconds, he tied the strings under the white-blonde hair of the wig. He hated the hair piece, although he silently praised her ingenuity in thinking of it. It helped in camouflaging her identity, but he wanted to grip her natural, dark-red hair, wrap the silken fire around his fist as she swallowed him between those perfect, lush lips created for fucking. He might be developing a fascination with the thick strands. Because as much as he imagined them spread over his thighs, he also envisioned them curtaining his face, brushing his lips…
Oh yeah, fascination.
He captured her hand in his and led her farther into the playroom, not stopping until they stood in the middle of the area. She didn’t object, but a fine tension invaded her body, tightening her shoulders, dropping her gaze from his. There was the embarrassment. He didn’t possess any psychic skills, but he could easily read her discomfort at being center stage, so to speak. Pinching her chin, he tilted her head up, forced her to look at him. Long, thick lashes hid her eyes. But he waited, and after several seconds, those lashes lifted, the dark lace of the mask deepening the vibrant green.
“You want to use your safe word,lisichka?” He’d end it that moment…even if it would feel like having his balls punted up in his gut.
“No,” she said, her voice containing a slight tremble. “I—” She swallowed, her hands fluttering by her sides before resting on his waist. Clutching his shirt. “I’m ready.”
He’d always admired bravery, and tonight was no different. Well, yeah, it was. Before this moment, courage hadn’t been hot as hell.
“Good,” he murmured, smoothing his palms down her bare arms to her wrists, then retracing the soft path back to her shoulders. Lowering his head, he breathed her in—the faint chemical smell of the wig and the sultry sweetness of her. Like peaches warmed by the sun. With a low hum, he laced his fingers behind her neck, his thumbs resting under her jaw and nudging her head up. Lowering his, he brushed his mouth over hers. And then because the softness of her lips just felt so damn good, he did it again. “You claim you want me, what I have to offer. Here’s where you prove it,lisichka,” he murmured. “I’m going to strip you of these clothes, let everyone stare at these beautiful tits, gorgeous ass, and pretty pussy. Get their fill of what I have and they can’t touch. Then, I’m going to lay you on the table behind you, spread you wide, and eat you until you come for me. Come for everyone in here. Understand?”
She stared at him, eyes wide. Surprise, anxiety, and doubt—they were reflected in her gaze, in the parting of her lips, and quick puffs of breath. Her tongue slipped out, dampened her bottom lip, and he waited for her to tell him never mind, that she couldn’t go through with this. Resignation settled in his chest; he’d purposefully chosen this sexual situation first. To push her. See if she could handle it. And also, because the first night she’d been in the club, he’d noticed how she’d stared at the people around her. Envy had flashed across her face…envy and lust.
But he should’ve guessed she would balk. This wasn’t for her—
“Yes,” she whispered. “I understand.”
His breath caught, sure he hadn’t heard right. But oh, hell yeah, he had. “Keep your eyes on me,” he said against her lips. She dipped her head in acknowledgement, and admiration for her, even as he read her trepidation, swelled inside him. “Good girl,” he praised.
