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“Welcome to Gluttony. A floor dedicated to the overindulgence of debauchery of all kinds. Scattered around the room are masters of flesh, here to assist you in your experience tonight. Pair up, group up, or indulge on your own. Tonight is about letting loose and freeing your inhibitions,” an excited male voice says, echoing off the concrete walls and carrying down the hall.
I come to a stop under the entrance archway at the end of the long hallway the elevator deposited us in and take in the large circular sitting room, decorated in various tones of oranges and reds. Deep red chaise loungers, accented in a variety of oranges, sit in a circle in the center of the room. The head of each sofa comes together to a point in the center of the room, reminding me of slices of a blood orange.
A path outlines the circular space, leading to various rooms that break off from the main floor. I walk the perimeter, peering into the open doors. My brows shoot up at the scene playing out in the first open room. An older gentleman, wearing only his khaki pants, sits in an armchair in the center of the room. A girl dressed in leather, wearing a black rabbit mask, drizzles chocolate into his mouth and down his chest. The man lets out a throaty moan when she bends over and licks the line of chocolate from his chin down to the straining waistband of his pants. I blink rapidly and dispel the image from my mind before moving on to the next door.
I’m frozen in stunned silence at the beautiful and erotic scene laid out before me. A gorgeous blonde, naked as the day she was born, hangs suspended from the ceiling by long thick ropes. Intricate tan knots decorate her pale skin, placed in spots that accent her body’s natural curves and valleys. The pose she’s been manipulated into is graceful and elegant, showing off the long lean lines of her legs and arms. It reminds me of a dancer’s pose from the ballet I saw when I was a little girl. When they would stand on the toes of one foot, stretching their other leg up behind them and holding onto their foot above their head.
Visions of being suspended naked from the ceiling as my partner runs strips of leather over my quivering body run through my mind. Slight slaps on my flesh, drawing moans of equal pain and pleasure from me. All while strangers watch on.
A loud crack of flesh on flesh reverberates through my consciousness, followed by the sound of a gasp and a pleasurable moan. My eyes snap open. When had I closed them? A tall, tattooed man, dressed in tight black leather pants and a black mesh top, soothes his hand over a reddening mark high on the girl’s right thigh.
“What are you glutton for?” he growls close to the girl’s ear, slapping the flat palm of his right hand on the swell of her rear.
Her chest rapidly rises and falls, soft gasps of air puffing past her full swollen lips.
“Answer me.” The command is low and demanding, followed by another slap.
“Punishment,” she pants.
An ache settles low in my belly at the sights and sounds surrounding me, and my breathing quickens. A rough, work-worn hand wraps around my throat from behind as another slides across my hip, coming to rest low on my bare abdomen. A warm breath ghosts across my cheek as a deep voice whispers in my ear. “Do they turn you on, little lamb? Does it make you hot to watch him turn her milky skin cherry red?” His fingers press against the thundering pulse in my neck. I swallow thickly against his hold. “I can feel how fast your heart is racing. I bet if I dip my fingers beneath this waistband, I’ll find you soaking wet, my little lamb.”
With these words, he slides the hand on my abdomen down to press against my pelvis. My eyes drift shut. My hips shift forward, pressing into his touch of their own volition, chasing the relief his silent words promise.
I’m not a wanton vixen, but being in this place—a place where you’re free to indulge in your darkest fantasies—the thrum of sexuality humming in the air dissolves all my walls and boundaries.
“So, what about you, little lamb? What are you a glutton for?”
The air around us thickens. My breathing halts with each word spoken low in my ear. A tingling sensation shoots down my arms, leaving goosebumps rising in their wake.
“Touch,” I whisper. My voice comes out husky, thick with desire and want. “I don’t want to feel like a freak because of how much my body wants it, craves it, needs it.”
His hand around my throat lowers, his arm coming to span the width of my chest, and he pulls me back against his solid body. His other hand slides across my abdomen to grip my hip in a firm hold, keeping me in place.
The mingled scents of musk and cinnamon invade my senses. “Is touch often hard for you to find enough of?” he asks and brushes his lips over the shell of my ear and down my neck.
I nod, unable to speak. My mouth dry, tongue thick, and breathing ragged.
“Tell me why? You’re sexy as fuck. I’d imagine men would line up to spend time with you.”
Forcing my thoughts back into a coherent line of thinking, I swallow and murmur, “Dating isn’t the problem. I suffer from hypersexuality, and they can’t seem to keep up. They call me a nympho or a freak.” A tear tracks down my cheek, memories of Kyle walking out the door rushing to the forefront of my mind.
Why the fuck would I tell him that?
God, Devin, don't be such a freak.
He glides his hand from my hip, up under my short, cropped shirt, resting it just beneath my breast, and the feeling of flesh on flesh causes me to gasp. A shiver tears through me when he rakes his nails along my ribs. “My name is Lucian, and I’m helping host this floor for the night. If you’ll allow me to pilot your night of unadulterated pleasure, I have an idea on how to satisfy your hypersexual desires.” He punctuates his claim by rubbing his thumb over my cloth covered nipple, drawing a moan from me.
I rest my head back against his shoulder and nearly cry out my agreement before I remember we’re still standing in the common room. Instead, I whisper, “Yes, please,” on a shaky breath.
Lucian tugs the hem of my shirt back down, running his fingers through the decorative crisscross straps along my abdomen, and spins me in his arms. Steel grey eyes meet my sapphire ones. Hunger burns behind his irises, equally matching the growing hunger I feel.
“Mmm, I can taste your desire in the air, little lamb. This night is going to be one to remember. But I need to gather a few things for us first. Come, let’s get you settled into a room. Unless you’d rather put on a show for all to enjoy in the common area.” He arches a challenging brow, but for tonight, I think I’d rather keep this experience private.
“Not tonight, maybe another time,” I say, feeling suddenly shy but still playful.
With a nod, he takes my hand, leading me to a dimly lit room on the other side of the circle.
The low seductive atmosphere of the room is illuminated by only a few dark pillar candles placed evenly over a banquet table that is covered in trays of chocolate strawberries, cheeses, and champagne flutes on one side of the room. In the opposite corner stands a single lamp with orange and red chiffon draped over the shade to give the space a fiery aura, keeping with the orange theme of the floor.
