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"I'd rather just have you to myself right here, right now," he said, echoing her own thoughts. "But we can create a world just for the two of us, no matter how big the crowd. As much as I want to have you alone, I want to watch you react to what you'll see in there."
Stepping to her side, he tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow and touched her chin when she opened her eyes and looked at him. "Want to go watch things far less amazing than you, but still well worth seeing?"
"Smooth talker." Her smile died, because his eyes were too hot, mouth too firm. There was a whole conversation going on beneath the surface, for both of them. A storm of epic proportions. His attention was like a full body wrap around her senses. She wanted him so badly her body felt weighted by it, and she put that need in the clutch of her fingers on him. His answer came through the stroke of his hand on her hip.
"Come on," he said, and led her across the parking lot to the door.
Chapter Twelve
The guys at the door opened it for them, so Des didn't have to let her go. They went through the foyer checkpoint, clustered with people and rich scents of perfumes and colognes. Everyone was dressed for pleasure. Leather, lace, silks, satins and sparkles. She loved noticing the details and maybe she would later, but right now she only had one focus. As Des offered his invitation, she lingered on the way the laced gauntlet defined his arm. He wore no rings on his fingers, no jewelry, but that would make sense, wouldn't it? He wouldn't wear anything that could foul a rope. She was already close to him, but she shifted even closer, inhaling his scent.
Tonight there was something different. Like an exotic blend of masculine spice, possibly the type of aftershave he'd used.
He noted her proximity, his hand curving around her waist, palm resting on her buttock, fingers curved over her hip bone. His gaze slid over her parted lips, down to her throat. While he waited for his hand to be stamped, he bent and kissed the top of her breast, making her drop her head back and shiver at the brush of his jaw on her tender flesh.
Then her hand was stamped and he was escorting her forward to a set of double doors that opened to release the energy and noise of what lay beyond.
In some ways, it was no different from any nightclub she'd ever visited, crowded with people, inundated with music and visual stimuli, though she heartily approved of the current song choice of Bruno Mars' "Moonshine." There was a flashing disco ball, which delighted her, casting a snowstorm of light on the crowded dance floor. Solid spotlights divided the main room into gold, green, blue and red sections and imprinted the party goers with that color, depending on where they wandered.
; "A dungeon is usually quiet, focused on building the intensity between Dom and sub," Des said in her ear. "While I prefer that, this will be a fun change. A party can give you a different kind of privacy, thanks to the festive chaos."
She was going to ask him what he meant, but he directed her attention to everything happening around them. And there was plenty to see.
The gold lit section had the disco ball and dance floor. As they moved past that area, she saw suitably sensuous movements that matched the music. Depending on what the participants were or were not wearing, some weren't far off from outright copulation. Correct that. One couple who completed their turn against a wall stopped there, using it as a brace and confirming the undulating hip movements were actual thrusting. During the turn, the woman had had one leg high on her partner's hip, but now, he lifted both legs around him to achieve deeper penetration as she clung to him, fingers digging into his shoulders.
Des let her linger there, watching the many different forms of foreplay and fucking done to a primal under beat, mixed with actual dancing. Couples became trios or more, all sorts of cross touching and stroking going on, one dance rippling together. Her own body rocked with the rhythm of the song, rubbing her against Des's body behind her. When he cupped her breasts, a gentle, foreplay, she had no embarrassment or selfconsciousness, sighing with need when he put his mouth to her throat and suckled the pounding artery.
He'd lowered his hands to her waist and she had her fingers wrapped in them when he lifted his head and moved them onward to complete their brief tour of each section.
Fire and electric play happened in the red lit area. Flogging and impact play in the blue, rope work in the green. Except for the fire play, there was overlap in all, restraints with rope combined with paddling or wand play, wax play mixed in with fire. It was an erotic circus, and the flashing light and shadows made all the players look surreal and breathtaking, caught up in a dimension where the world outside of work and worries didn't exist.
She was sure that was a tired description for the marvelousness of it, but circus was what came to mind. Especially when they passed a gold painted woman moving through the crowd, her Mistress guiding her on a leash. The submissive wore an elaborate headdress that gave her a mane like a male lion. She wore an impressive strap-on, the harness of which seemed to be holding her long tail in place over her backside. Julie noticed the "lion's" Mistress had a hand on the base of the tail and was playing with it. The tail was anchored to her body via a dildo sunk deep into her backside.
At Julie's fascinated regard, the Mistress slowed. "My exotic pet wants to play with others tonight, Spiderman. Would you like your sub to be fucked by her? Or feel my pet's claws?"
Before Julie could react to the Mistress's remarkable request, Des slipped his hand around her throat, just under her jaw, fingers hooking the rope and chain collar. A reminder that the question had been directed to him, not her. "Fucking her is my pleasure alone, Mistress, but yes to the claws."
He tipped up Julie's face, an unspoken but clear command to keep her gaze on his. They hadn't discussed what Julie might or might not like, but she trusted Des to suggest things she might like. She also trusted him to honor her and not get out of sorts if she backed away from something he wanted her to do. Frankly, she was less worried about their lack of formal communication than her certainty she might not refuse anything he demanded, not when he was in his full Dom-wizard mode.
The lion sub had glittering metal tips on her fingers she feathered artistically high in the air where Julie could see them before she dragged them down Julie's front. Over the exposed curves of her breasts, to the edge of lace that barely covered her nipples. Before she could worry she'd scrape those, the sub had dropped to her knees and reversed course, talons digging in and scraping up her inner thighs. Des shifted to grip her around the waist, so when Julie instinctively leaned back, her knees loosening to give those talons more access, he held her up. She made a noise of confused arousal and, as he turned her to face him, he adjusted his hand so it was still on her throat, keeping her head tilted up to meet his eyes. His grip was firm, intended to put strain on her neck, to make her feel the pressure of the knots in the collar he'd put upon her, as the Mistress asked a follow up question.
"What a lovely open back this dress has. Would you like my kitten to mark her there?"
Des caressed Julie's throat. "How painful do you want it to be, love?"
"As painful as you want me to feel it."
In a rational moment, could she explain how the flash of approval in his gaze, how pleasing him, made her feel? And how that connected to anything he did to her. It made pain something different, though she was no pain junkie.
"Make it hurt, Mistress Pride," Des said, keeping his attention wholly on his sub. "But don't break her lovely skin."
Julie sucked in a breath when the talons raked her back. They didn't draw blood, but they left stinging scrapes. Whereas the "lion" had been slow and deliberate when marking Julie's front and legs, now her movements were quick slashes, like a whip strike, making Julie bite back a startled cry. Then Des's palm was over the crisscrossing marks, stroking the abrasions. Julie was pressed full against him, straining, needing.
"Thank you, Mistress." He held Julie fast as the woman and her pet moved onward, and Julie dipped her head to his throat, her lips almost touching his collar bone, shallow breaths bathing it.
"Let's go watch some rope work," Des said. He shaped her body against his side, moving her through the ocean of people. Maybe because of where her head was, the noise had become a dull roar, her nerves tingling at the stimulation of nothing more than air movement, the barest brush of bodies against her, the full press of Des's.
