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“Anything on your mind?”
“Hmm?” She turns to look at me, her face flush, her eyes already heavy. “Oh, no, nothing.”
I press the inside of my hand against her opposite cheek, my mouth at her ear. “Liar,” I whisper before nipping her earlobe. I see her hands squeeze her clutch tightly in her lap. “Don’t be shy on me now, baby girl. I’m going to have you quivering”—I lick her earlobe, sucking it into my mouth—“shaking, begging for me to finish you.”
“Mads.” My name falls from her lips like a plea, my cock twitching at the thought of her begging me.
“That’s right, baby. Say my name. You’re going to be screaming it all night.”
When we arrive at the club, Emery’s legs are like a baby deer. She’s already soaked with anticipation, her scent on my fingers from when I slipped them inside her just before exiting the car.
“Evening, Mr. Bishop.” Kent, our valet, shakes my hand.
“Evening, Kent.” I slip him a hundred, letting him know to keep up the good work.
I lead Emery through the main floor, back to my office where I close the door behind us. I pull open a drawer, reaching inside to pull out the black and pink mask I had made for her. She looks nervous as she stands in the middle of my office, her eyes watching my every move. I pull out my chair, taking a seat and patting my thigh.
“Come here, sweetheart.” She walks toward me, sitting down with her back toward me. “Tonight is all about you.” I reach around her, placing the mask on her face and tying the ribbon. “I want you to trust me with your pleasure. Can you do that?”
“Yes.” She looks over her shoulder at me, her plump lips begging to be tasted.
“Are you ready?” She nods and we stand, making our way out of the office and down the stairs to the lower level.
There are several couples walking through the booths, stopping to watch other couples. The music pounds around us, the glow of the red lights enhancing the erotic tension. I hold Emery’s hand, walking her slowly from booth to booth.
She pauses in front of one, the couple fully naked. The man is taking the woman from behind, her body pressed against the glass, her mouth open. Her breasts are smashed against the glass as the man fucks her roughly, his hands digging into her hips as he gets lost in pleasure.
“Wait,” she whispers, standing in place when I tug her hand to move on.
“Do you like that, sweetheart?” I run my fingers up her arm. She nods her head, her teeth dragging over her lower lip as the woman in front of her begins to tremble. The man grabs her by the throat, tugging her backward so that his lips can find hers, his hands grabbing her breast roughly.
“Oh.” Emery pauses at the next booth. A woman is spread-eagle on a wooden cross, ropes pulled taut across her breast, her skin red from the tension. A toy is stuffed inside her as the man sits across from her in a chair with a remote in one hand, his cock in the other. “What is that?” she asks softly, nodding toward the remote.
“That is a remote-controlled vibrator.” I nod to where the toy is hanging out of her between her thighs. “If I had to guess, orgasm denial.”
“Denial?” Her eyes grow wide. “As in she can’t come?” I nod. “Why?”
“Delayed gratification.” I pull her hair to the side, exposing her neck to my lips. “He’s edging her, bringing her close over and over so that when he finally lets her come, it will be explosive. It’s a form of punishment or maybe even torture.”
“Do you enjoy that?”
“I do.”
“Do you want to do that with me?”
“Only if you wanted to explore it. I wouldn’t push you past your limits but seeing you begging me for release is a turn-on for me. Is that something you’re interested in?”
“Maybe…yes.” Her eyes are fixated on the woman as the man finally places the remote down, the woman’s body hanging limp after she finally finds release.
I move her along until we’ve reached a new booth right in the center of the room. This one, though, has reflective mirrors so when we stop in front of it, it’s our own reflection looking back at us.
“What’s this one?” She reaches her hand out to touch it.
“This one,” I murmur as I lean in to run my lips up her neck, “is for us.”
“Us?” she asks, surprised. I grab her hand, leading her around to the door.
“I had this built for us while we were away. This one,” I say, closing the door behind us and locking it, “has the mirrors inverted. So we can see out, see all of the couples walking around, but they won’t be able to see us.”
