Page 6 of His to Unwrap
“Fuck,” I mutter, the second Noelle steps into the spotlight. Her half of the viewing booth isn’t quite so sparse and nondescript as mine. There’s a straight back wooden chair, a plush white rug, and a small wooden cabinet, all arranged exactly as I described when I reserved the booth.
Of course, the booth’s decor isn’t what has my attention. Noelle is dressed precisely the way I requested—a lace bra and a short black apron. The lace is sheer under the bright spotlight and I can make out the shadow of her pink nipples underneath. Her blond hair is down in waves around her shoulders, just as it was the first night I saw her. Her make-up is the same too—minimal enough to still see the light smattering of freckles on her nose with shiny, bubblegum pink lips. The effect is the same as it had been that first night—a perfect mixture of painfully sexy and sweetly innocent.
Fuck, I want her. I want her more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life. Sitting behind this glass is torture when all I want to do is reach into her side of the booth and get my hands on her. I want to wrap her tiny little body in my big arms and consume her. I want to taste those bubblegum lips and see what they’d look like stretched around my cock. I want to tweak her perfect nipples until she squeals with pain and then I want to do it some more.
Jesus. I need to calm down. She literally hasn’t even done anything yet, just stood under the spotlight with her head bowed like the perfect little submissive.
I hit the button for the intercom and bark out my first order. “Begin.”
She would have already read through the selections I made on the tablet, but that’s just a place to start. I can always make adjustments through the intercom, if I want. It’s not something I usually do, wanting her to at least have the illusion that it’s anyone else besides me sitting behind this glass.
But tonight, I’m feeling reckless. Maybe it was the torture of watching her dance in that fucking red bow all night. Or maybe it’s the surge of hot jealous rage I’d felt at that idiot bartender for flirting with her.
Either way, I have a feeling I’m not going to be able to be such a silent observer tonight.
On the other side of the glass, Noelle moves to the cabinet and picks up a bottle of bourbon. I groan when she bends a little to pour it, showing me her perfectly round ass, clad only in a black thong under that short apron. What I wouldn’t give to turn that ass red with my hand. Or my paddle. Fuck, she’d look good with welts from my paddle.
Noelle fixes my drink and puts it on a tray before walking up to the glass. I’m not sure if she’s realized that I’ve recreated the moment we met—hell, she probably doesn’t even remember it, surely not down to the last detail the way I do. Either way, her breathing has quickened a little, her cheeks tinged with the slightest shade of pink. Is she nervous? Excited?
She stands in front of the glass for a moment, letting me look at her up close, before moving to place my drink in the small pass-through cabinet that allows the users of these rooms to transfer objects. She bends to set the drink in her side of the cabinet and I groan again—this time it’s her tits practically spilling out of the sheer lace.
I’m obsessed with this woman’s tits. They’re fucking perfect, slightly too big for her small frame, full and plush, with the prettiest pale pink nipples I’ve ever seen. I’ve gotten myself off just imagining what it would feel like to taste those nipples.
Once she’s deposited my drink, she returns to the center of the room, under the spotlight. I take the glass from my side of the pass-through cabinet and sit back in my chair, ready for the show to start.
Music starts, but it’s not the sensuous dark beats she danced to earlier. This is something softer, something sweeter. Something more appropriate for the angel on the other side of the glass.
She removes her apron first, just as I requested. I bite my tongue to keep from moaning at the sight of her revealed to me. The thong is tiny, barely covering her mound, and the front panel is as sheer as the bra. I want to rip it from between her legs, to see her pretty pink pussy up close and personal. I want to fucking feast on it and make her come.
But watching her do it herself will have to suffice for tonight.
She kicks the apron out of the way and stands there for a moment, letting me admire her. Then she starts to dance.
It’s different from the dancing she did out in the main lounge. That dance had been all about sex, raunchy and bold. Here in this dark little room, she isn’t performing for anyone but me.
The last time I gave into temptation and allowed things to get this far, there had been a stripper pole involved. That had been fucking hot. I’d made her dress up in rhinestones and platform heels and crawl around on the floor to blaring R&B music.
It had made me hard, but it had clearly been a show. This feels more natural for her—and therefor more dangerous. I need to put as much distance between myself and the true Noelle as possible.
But I’m a weak man, and she looks stunning like this. Her movements are more ballerina-like, graceful, not in your face like earlier. She twirls and my mouth waters at the glimpse of her ass, the way the strong muscles in her legs flex as she moves.Her eyes close as I know she’s falling into the dance just the way I’ve seen her do so many times before. She looks so happy when she dances. So peaceful. I could watch her forever.
But my reservation in the booth only lasts so long, and she knows that as well as I do. She does another graceful pirouette before finally stopping, facing me again.
I hit the button for the intercom before I can think about whether it’s a good idea.
“I want your bra off for the next part. Leave the panties on.”
She doesn’t nod or make any indication that she heard me. She just obeys—because that’s the whole point of this arrangement. Her hands come behind her and she removes the bra, the sheer lace sliding over her skin until she’s revealed for me. I curse, loudly. Those fucking tits.
Once I’m reasonably sure my voice will be steady, I hit the intercom button again. “Kneel.” Again, she obeys immediately. “Spread your knees further apart. Good girl.”
I’m watching her close enough to see the little shiver that goes through her at my words, and I grin in the darkness. My angel likes to be praised.
She also likes to be talked to like a filthy slut. The absolute perfect combination for a man like me.
“You read my instructions?” I ask, and she nods on the other side of the glass. “Good. Get started. Be as descriptive as you can.”
There’s a pause, and then she begins to speak in a clear, soft voice. “My fantasy begins in a dark room.”
