Page 74 of Drown Me Gently

He didn’t finish the sentence.

The curtains pulled back. And onto the stage poured half a dozen performers—completely nude.

Auren froze.

It was… carnage. Beautiful, sensual carnage.

Their bodies gleamed with oil, glowing under the torchlight, muscles sliding against one another like creatures from another world. Every dancer wore a mask. Elaborate things of masterful craftsmanship, each modeled after an animal. It obscured their identities but somehow made the performance all the more wild. Some wore slivers of lace so sheer it hid nothing, accenting the shape of their bodies—an invitation to revel in the sex that oozed openly through the air.

Naked and half-naked, the dancers tangled together in a writhing rhythm. Hands caressed slick skin. Mouths found the hollows of throats, the curves of hips.

One woman dropped gracefully to her knees, her mask tilting up as she looked at the man before her. The crowd held its breath, a hush falling over the theater as she leaned in and parted her lips around the thick length of him. Her hand moved in time with the low, pulsing drums, guiding him deeper into her mouth with a practiced, sensual grace.

Auren’s jaw dropped. His cheeks burned with helpless, hot color, his heart pounding so hard he heard it above the music. He clutched the edge of his chair so hard his knuckles went white.

Ulric shifted uncomfortably beside him.

“I’m sorry, Auren,” he said roughly. “I didn’t know— We can leave if you want.”

But Auren couldn’t tear his eyes away.

Heat coiled low in his belly, spreading to his hips and filling his groin.

No… he didn’t want to leave.

The scene on stage only grew more explicit. The performers, the sheer enthusiasm, and the pleasure painted openly across their faces was a tapestry of eroticism. The way they worshiped each other with touch, mouth, and tongue.

It was raw. Human. Hungry.

The air smelled of sweat and sex, and it was more dizzying than the wine.

And it awoke something in Auren that he hadn’t known was sleeping.

He wanted it.

He wanted him.

Auren turned, unable to help himself. And there was Ulric, sitting rigid beside him, his strong throat working as he swallowed, hands clamped tightly on his knees. Ulric, who had touched him, held him, protected him—Ulric, who was trying so hard to hold back.

Auren was a man—and Ulric was a man—and there was nothing between them now but choice.

And Auren was ready.

He wanted to feel everything. All of Ulric.

He turned, meeting Ulric’s wide, worried eyes across the darkness, and made a decision.

Tonight, he would dare.

Ulric stood abruptly, his legs filled with beehives. This wasn’t how he expected the night to go. He’d intentionally avoided this sort of thing. Maybe they could leave now, do some other activity to exhaust Auren before retiring.

But with one look at the prince, Ulric knew they were past the point of no return. The second Auren turned those fire-lit eyes on him, wide and blazing with intent, Ulric knew he was doomed.

The music thrummed through the theater like a second pulse. It filled the air between them, pulling them like a death grip of a riptide. There was no escaping it.

And then Auren, his wild, wonderful Auren, pounced.

Ulric’s back hit the velvet wall of their balcony with a muted thud, and before he could even think to protest, Auren’s hands were at his waist, yanking loose the clasps of his belt.