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SAOIRSE
Together, Connor and I make quite a pair, especially dressed like this. I’m aware of that from the moment he knocks on the smooth stone wall that we stop in front of, and it slides open, revealing a secret entrance with two leather-clad attendants behind it, one man and one woman, both of them dressed in equally revealing outfits with collars like the one I’d left behind in my hotel room. Their gaze flicks between Connor and me, widening as they take us in. I have that feeling once more that I had after putting on the boots—a feeling of a strange power that I’ve never experienced before.
Even with the collar that he’d insisted I put on once we got off the bike.
It’s all I can do not to reach up and touch it, the feeling of the smooth leather around my throat strange and arousing all at once. I can feel it with every movement, pressing against my skin, a reminder of who I am in this place. It’s a role, a game, as surely as the part I played that first night in Connor’s warehouse. I remind myself of that as Connor gives the attendants his name—not his real name, but William Davies.
“And your partner for tonight?”
Connor glances over at me, and I feel another small thrill as he says my name.
“Saoirse O’Sullivan.”
I don’t belong in a place like this. IknowI don’t. But as I follow Connor down the stone steps to the black velvet curtain that will lead us into the club, I can feel my curiosity piquing.What am I going to see in there?
The curtain parts and my eyes go wide.
The club's interior is styled like a Gothic castle, with stone floors covered in intervals with red velvet runners, a huge wood and stone bar in a half-circle taking up a large part of the main floor. There are arched alcoves with black velvet curtains in the walls behind it, for purposes I can only imagine, and a winding staircase leading up to the second floor and the third, where I can see doors leading to other rooms.
“What are those for?” I whisper to Connor as we walk towards the bar, nodding at the upper floors and the hidden rooms.
He grins wickedly at me. “Those are private rooms. The second floor is for men like me to take their submissives for private fun. The upper floor is for couples or groups looking to play with someone and men who come here to hire a Domme for themselves.”
My eyes widen at that. “I’ve never heard of a man who wanted a woman to dominate him.” I can’t hide the surprise in my voice, and Connor laughs.
“There’s more of them than you might think, lass. Especially men who hold power. I guarantee half of the men at the Kings’ table like to run off to some club in Boston to have a woman in latex step on his balls or something like that.”
“And you?” I glance up at him, trying not to let him see how uncertain I feel here. “Is that something you’re into?”
We’ve reached the bar, and Connor motions for the bartender, a gorgeous black-haired woman in a red leather dress that buttons down the front. “Having my balls stepped on?” He smirks. “Not in the slightest, Saoirse. I’m sorry if that disappoints you. I’m sure you were hoping for a different outcome. But as for being dominated by a woman—”
His gaze lands on mine, and I feel my mouth go dry as his voice drops an octave, turning deep and husky. “Usually, I prefer to be the one doing the dominating, Saoirse. But in certain circumstances, there could be a pleasure to be had in it, with the right woman—”
I lick my lips as the bartender pushes two drinks towards us, something pale and opaque in crystal-cut glasses. “What would theright womando, Connor?” There’s an edge to my voice, a challenge for him to tell me, rather than backing down and claiming I can’t handle hearing it.
Two can play this game of dares.
He watches me carefully, his full lips still twitching in that sinful smirk. “Well,” he says quietly, moving closer to me as he hands me my drink, so that his voice can still be heard even over the growing noise of the club as it fills up. “She might tie me to a chair, both of us fully nude, my hands and feet bound as she spread herself in front of me, forcing me to watch her play with herself—light touches, mind you, letting me watch her pussy turn rosy with arousal, her folds swelling and getting wetter by the moment, teasing me with it, until I was so hard that my own cock was dripping pre-cum, swollen and begging to be touched—”
Holy fuck.I swallow hard, and my drink stalled halfway to my lips. “How do you just—talk like that?” I manage, trying desperately to ignore the sudden heat between my legs that the idea of Connor, tied up and rock hard while I teased him, flared to life. “Where does this evencomefrom?”
Connor grins, taking a sip of his drink. “Don’t you have fantasies, Saoirse? I assure you, most of mine aren’t about being teased and dominated by a woman—but there is something to be said for a woman teasing me to the edge of orgasm, denying me again and again, perhaps even hovering over me in bed, impaling her pussy onto the very tip of my cock over and over until I’m close to bursting—”
I choke on the first sip of my drink, the honey flavor of it sweet on my tongue. “There you go again,” I manage. “Do you think about anything other than fucking, Connor? Seriously?”
He turns towards me suddenly, making me very aware that the bar is against my back, with nowhere to go. “Since you strutted into my warehouse that night, teasing me and then denying me? Since I fingered you to that orgasm in the elevator?” Connor leans close, his breath warm against my ear. “No, Saoirse, I’ve thought about very little other than fucking you. I was the first man to ever make you come; I know that now. But you still haven’t told me about the orgasms you give yourself—if you do. What do you fantasize about?”
You.Since I walked into that warehouse, only you.But I’m not about to say that. “I don’t,” I say flatly, swallowing another gulp of the honey-flavored drink.
Connor pulls back, grinning mockingly at me. “Don’t fantasize? Or don’t masturbate? I suppose someone as hardly touched as you wouldn’t need much to come. Just a few strokes of a finger over your neglected clit—”
I’m going to die of arousal or embarrassment tonight, or both,I think dizzily, trying to get ahold of myself. We’ve been in the club fifteen minutes, and already I can feel an insistent throbbing between my legs. The tiny black silk thong that Connor sent me is drenched. I can feel it clinging to my folds. Every inch of me already feels as if I’m tingling. My nerves are live wires, electrified and singing at Connor’s every whim.
“You’re baiting me.” I glare at him, finishing my drink in one bold gulp and setting it back down on the bar. “I fantasize about—normal things, okay? And no one in particular. Someone going down on me. Being on top in bed, maybe. I barely even know what I’m fantasizing about, other than a few porn clips I’ve managed to sneak here and there. Is that what you wanted to know? That I’m horribly naïve and have only a basic knowledge of sex? Go ahead, make fun of me. I know you want to.”
Connor’s eyes meet mine, bright and heated, and another pulse of desire sweeps through me so strongly that I feel almost faint. “Well then, Saoirse,” he says in a low voice that wraps around me like silk, without a hint of mocking in it. “You’re going to get quite the education tonight.”
He hands me another drink, his hand gesturing at the room around us as he takes a sip of his own. “This floor is the public floor,” he says quietly, low enough for only me to hear as he moves closer still, his hip brushing against mine as we stand side by side. “For those who wish to exhibit their desires or be exhibited. Look around, Saoirse—it’ll only get more debauched as the night goes on.”
