Page 2 of Bared Betrayal
Her back arches off the mahogany, and I’m sure she’s about to come when the man stops and steps aside for another to take his place. The air around us is laden with tension, and I reach behind my neck, gently easing my fingers across my flesh as I watch the men take turns with her, licking her, tasting her, making her whimper as her chest rises and falls with each rapid breath.
The fifth guy stills at the end of the table and just watches her, leaning his head to the side, letting his gaze rake down every inch of her body. Her lips are parted, her cheeks tinted with desire’s flush. Finally, he reaches out and strokes the inside of her thigh, his fingers trailing up to her core. A gasp escapes her as he slips a finger into her pussy, and I have to clench my thighs, trying to alleviate the ache throbbing between my legs.
The air is alive with electricity as we all watch him bring his hand to his lips, licking her taste off his fingers. Every nerve ending in my body prickles with a need I’ve never experienced before, watching him extend his hand, choosing her to be his for the night. It’s easy to see the chemistry between them flare up with a fiery heat I can feel from across the room.
My eyes dart up to the man at the top of the stairs. His gaze is pinned on me, and I wonder if he’s been looking at me the entire time. A part of me hopes he has.
“You in the white dress.” The hostess’ voice forces me to look away from him. “Your turn.”
Oh, Jesus. Oh, my God. Why did I wear the white dress? I’m not ready for this. I can’t do this. I can’t…can I?
For a moment, I look back up, the man’s head slightly tilted as he studies me. Even behind the mask, his curiosity swims in his eyes, and it’s like I can feel his gaze softly caress my skin. It seems to slide over every inch of my body. If I could choose, I would pick him.
My feet are heavy, and my legs are unsteady as I walk toward the table. No. It’s not a table. It’s an altar where we offer our bodies to gods dressed in pristine Armani suits. An altar where the gods will decide if you’re worthy or not.
Suddenly I’m more afraid of not being chosen rather than nervous about getting tongue-fucked by six strangers in front of everyone here tonight. Not getting chosen means I’m not good enough. Not getting chosen means I fail yet again. It means I’m too pathetic, too weak. It means what I came here to find is something I will never have.
Freedom.
This is a mistake. I can’t do this. I’d rather not go through with it than risk not getting chosen, especially with him watching. But, for some reason, I don’t want to disappoint him. And that is the piece I can’t figure out, why I want so badly to please him.
“Um…” I fist my hands next to me, the silk of my dress feeling like sandpaper against my skin as my nerves start eating at my flesh. “I, ah…I can’t—”
“Close your eyes,” a voice whispers behind me. The way his authority vibrates down my spine, I know it’shim. I can feel it. The man whose gaze has been keeping mine captive all night. My body tingles. He’s so close his warm breath glides along my neck, causing me to shiver as I try to breathe. I obey instantly as if the option not to doesn’t exist. It’s something my mind doesn’t seem to comprehend, so I close my eyes, listening to the erratic beating of my heart.
My lips part as he settles a hand on my hip, gently guiding me onto the table. I have no idea why or how, but I trust him. I want to. It comes as naturally as breathing. His presence alone gives me the confidence I need to fight my fear and embrace the moment.
The mahogany is cold against my back as I lie down, my shoulder blades pressing against the wood. I don’t open my eyes when I feel his breath as he rasps in my ear, “Good girl.”
Two words. Two seconds, and my body feels more alive than it ever has. I’m no longer on a table in front of a crowd at a sex club. I’m somewhere else, alone…with him. My perfect stranger who makes my body sing for him with a single whisper.
My legs tremble when I feel the silk of my dress being brushed up and over my knees. I know what’s coming. I just witnessed it with the girl in the burgundy dress. And I’m already writhing, squirming, burning to feel his tongue glide between my legs.
A gentle whimper slips from my lips as he eases my knees apart, smoothing his palms down the inside of my thighs. Smooth, soft fingers caress my skin—the hands of a man who knows what a woman’s body wants, what it needs. A man who oozes confidence, his knowledge of sex and seduction seeping from his touch and into my bones. I want to open my eyes and look at him. I want to see his face. Watch his head bob while he licks my cunt. I want his eyes to meet mine while he tongue fucks me to heaven and back. But I don’t open my eyes for no reason other than him not giving me permission.
Something soft touches my thighs. His hair? I don’t know. But I feel the heat of his breath against my bare sex, and I arch my back with anticipation, every nerve, every cell in my body ignited and needing the ecstasy this man promises to deliver.
He presses his lips against my inner thigh, and my nipples harden against the silk of my dress. I spread my arms, gripping the table’s edge, clawing at the wood with my nails, and he’s barely fucking touching me. This is insane. I don’t know this man. I know nothing about him, but something wild and wicked pulses between us, leaving me wanting to see if it’ll incinerate us both or burn me to ash alone.
“Please,” I beg because I’m no longer in control. He is. Will he punish me for voicing my desire? I’m not sure how much of this torture I’ll be able to endure before he gives me what I want. What I need. What I have to have.
“Perfection,” he murmurs, and his tongue licks with a white-hot flame through my slit, causing me to moan as I lose myself to the sensation, my body quivering with every slow, leisurely stroke of his tongue from my entrance to my clit.
I’m lost in it, my control long gone. Who am I kidding? I haven’t been in control since he whispered into my ear for the first time. My hips buck as I try to press myself harder against his mouth, but his hands firmly wrap around my sides, forcing me to keep still while he tastes me with one torturously gentle brush of his tongue after the other.
I want to reach down and weave my fingers through his hair, but something tells me not to do anything unless he tells me to. My reaction to him, his presence, his touch, is to do nothing but submit. But I want to press myself against him, to actively submit until he forces me with his dominance to scream.
Warm lips wrap around my clit, and I cry out as he sucks hard once, forcing an orgasm to tear through my loins and up my core. Wave after wave of pleasure washes over me, and I come undone on that table in the middle of the room for everyone to see. It’s an explosion as every sensation detonates deep inside my core, gripping every muscle, possessing every corner of my body with a pleasure powerful enough to snap me in half.
I’m still trembling, gasping for air, when a hand wraps around my throat and moves to the back of my neck, fingers biting into my flesh as I’m forced to sit up straight.
“Open your eyes.” His voice is a soft purr that resonates with loud demand, leaving me no choice but to submit and conform.
My heart is hammering inside my chest as I open my eyes and stare into his. Cobalt-blue irises take me captive the second his gaze ensnares mine, and I’m hypnotized by eyes that glow like fire and alluring lips that speak silent promises of a thousand sins within the heavy shadow of night. A black mask hides most of his face, but I don’t care. It’shim. Everything I want is in the deep-blue depths of his eyes, and everything I need is tucked away within his touch.
This is why I came to Myth tonight. For him. For this. For the possibility of finally breaking free from the chains that have been suffocating me for so long. I’ve been waiting my whole life to feel this alive, this free.
I suck in a breath as he forces me to the table’s edge, snaking an arm around my waist and leaning in, so his lips brush against my ear.“Mine.”
