Page 19 of Bared Betrayal
The first girl lies on top of the table, her knees spread wide, the burgundy fabric of her dress bunched around her waist. I’d watch Davian tongue fuck her if I wasn’t so intrigued by the woman in white. Her lips are clamped together, and her skin flushed. She looks like she might bolt at any moment.
I grip the banister in front of me as I silently will her not to leave. It’s apparent to the expert eye like mine that she’s a fish out of water here. This isn’t her usual scene, perhaps even her first visit to an establishment like this one.
Our eyes meet, and her lips part slightly. I can see she’s nervous. I don’t have to touch her skin to know there’s a sheen of perspiration at the nape of her neck. I’m struck with the overwhelming urge to calm her. To reassure her and make her stay. She’s not even on the table yet, and already I imagine her spread open just for me, writhing under my tongue. I can practically smell her arousal. Sweet. Musky. Intoxicating.
My mouth fucking waters at the thought of tasting her, licking her until mindless pleasure is all she feels. All she cares about.
I shift focus to the table and the first woman being decided upon. The taste of her pussy is being sampled by the other Elites, and everyone waits to see who feels a sexual connection with her. While her cries of ecstasy fill the room, I look at the one in white. I take in every expression on her face, a little thrum of interest beating in my fingertips. I have been at so many of these events, I would have a hard time even describing the parade of subs who attend. But her? I could definitely describe her. I haven’t been able to take my eyes off her. She appears so delicate and ethereal in that white dress. It’s such a contrast to all the dark suits and dresses in the room. She’s a breath of virgin air. It makes me want to get her a little dirty, and I’m sure she’ll fucking enjoy it.
“You in the white dress.” The hostess’ voice causes her to pull her gaze from mine back toward the table. “Your turn.”
A myriad of expressions flits across her face as she is summoned. Even with a mask covering half her face, it’s evident that she’s unsure. Panicked. Her lips part and her shoulders straighten like she’s on the verge of backing out. I hope she doesn’t.
Don’t back out now, beautiful. The fun is only about to start.
Curiosity flows through me, wondering if her hesitant footsteps would turn into a sprint straight out the door, leaving me with nothing more than a fantasy of the girl in white.
Don’t run, little lamb. Don’t run.
I tighten my grip on the iron rail, watching her slowly move toward the table. Will the unknown win the battle? I sure as fuck hope so.
I hold my breath. Watching. Waiting. The anticipation reaching boiling point. She glances up as she nears the table. The connection crackling. There’s a jolt of possession in my chest, and it’s something entirely new for me. Instantly, I know that no one else will touch her. No one else will taste the sweetness between her innocent thighs. No one else will sample her, make her scream. And sure as fuck, no one else will choose her because tonight, this baby girl is mine.
She looks away, staring out in front of her, and I can feel her slipping away. The connection is wavering, soon to be severed if I don’t fucking do something.
You’re not getting away from me, little lamb. Not tonight.
I’m taking two stairs at a time as I make my way down, my gaze fixed on her. With her back turned toward me, the sight of her slender neck and ivory skin under the crystal chandelier is fucking perfection.
“Um…” she starts, fisting her hands next to her. “I, ah…I can’t—”
I reach her, moving as close as I can without touching her. “Close your eyes,” I whisper, and her breath hitches. She doesn’t move. We’re so fucking close, I can smell her. She smells of jasmine and amber patchouli wrapped in the seduction of white musk. I can practically taste her, that sweet innocence rolling off the uncertainty she’s desperate to fight.
She obeys instantly, closing her eyes as if she was born to submit, and it fucking thrills me, my cock hard and ready to fill her cunt. I reach out, settling a hand on her hip and guiding her onto the table. The way she responds to me is incredible, how her body so easily complies with a simple nudge of my fingers.
My girl in white is a fucking vision as she lies down on the mahogany, her vanilla hair such a stark contrast splayed on the dark wood. “Good girl,” I praise in her ear, and her lips part, releasing a heavy breath. She likes it. She likes being a good girl. For me.
My excitement is fucking palpable.
The silk of her dress is smooth against my fingertips as I gently brush it up and over her knees, exposing more of her flawless skin, my fingers tracing a pattern on her thigh. She trembles under my touch, her back arching slightly off the table, and I revel in the power, the ownership her submission empowers me with. I haven’t even begun to touch her the way I want to, and already she’s possessed with desire. Placing a hand on her knee, she lets out a whimper as I ease her legs apart, gliding my palm down the inside of her thigh, exposing her bare pussy.
So wet. So fucking inviting.
Yes. My girl in white is all too willing for me to claim her. To taste her. And I’m eager to oblige. I dip my head down, desire erupting as I smell her arousal, my cock hard and throbbing. With a simple kiss of my lips against her pussy, she moans, her back arching as she spreads her arms out next to her, gripping the table. Her delicate gasps fill the air as I drag my tongue through her sensitive folds, tasting her desire that ignites an inferno in my groin.
“Please,” she begs, and I all but come in my pants as the word rolls from her lips as I lap at her drenched cunt.
“Perfection,”I murmur, her hips bucking as she searches for more, her mind no longer controlling her body. But I reach out and firmly place my hands on her sides, keeping her still. She’ll come when I want her to and not a second before. She needs to learn that. She needs to know her place. Know who is in control here.
Me.
Her entire body is rigid, and I know she’s desperate to come. I can taste it on her sweet pussy, how her slick arousal starts coating the insides of her thighs. I could do this all night, feast on her like she’s the last goddamn supper. But my instincts say she needs easing into it. She needs a release, or her body will fucking break.
I take her clit in my mouth, and she cries out as I suck hard, my tongue pressing and stroking against the sensitive bud. Every sound she makes echoes her pleasure, and it’s crashing in waves, rolling from her body and slamming against my goddamn balls as she comes on my tongue. Her taste is better than I ever could have imagined. I don’t think I’ve ever had pussy taste this good.
She trembles, gasping, and I wrap a hand around her throat, sliding it to the back of her neck, guiding her up.
“Open your eyes,” I demand, and like the perfect angel, she does as I say. Her irises are jade and emeralds, a forest of secrets I want to uncover. The moment is crystal clear, her lips parted and breaths desperate. This is what she came here for. For me. For this.
