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The fact they were giving out those receipts also spoke to the number of people expected to show up here tonight, and a little frisson of nerves swept over me again. I was wearing the tight leather pants that Cruz had just given me, telling me that Master Michael had bought him some new things for the club. I had paired it with a black button up shirt and the Doc Martens I’d borrowed again from Cruz. Underneath the pants, I was wearing thong underwear and it was already wedged firmly up my ass, but hey, I was hoping to get lucky.
There were tons of people milling around, and Cruz had told me the night before that we were supposed to be with other people, if possible, all of us policing each other and making sure no one was getting hurt. All very safe, sane and consensual and nobody getting hurt any more than they wanted to be.
From a distance, I thought I saw Jared, surrounded by friends and dressed in some sexy leather outfit, looking like a million bucks. I ducked behind a passing waiter when he turned, like the abject coward I was, and moved along to keep looking for Cruz and Michael.
As I walked through the rooms—all downstairs, as the upper floors were roped off—I saw some cozy little corners with an assortment of BDSM equipment laid out, and a dungeon room set up in what looked like a ballroom area, complete with a glittering chandelier overhead, though it was turned off to keep the lighting inside the dungeon dim.
From behind me, someone cleared their throat and I turned to find Cruz and Michael, all decked out in new fetish wear. I wondered if they’d gotten it for Christmas, and then decided I was being mean and childish, probably because I was jealous.
I admired Cruz’s new collar, expensive and close-fitting around his neck. He looked excited and handsome tonight, his brown eyes gleaming and a curly flop of dark hair over his forehead. Michael stood by, letting us catch up and speaking occasionally to some other Dom passing by.
“What do you think? Is it what you thought it would be like?”
“I really didn’t have any expectations. And of course, I’ve seen the house. It’s beautiful, isn’t it? I thought I caught a glimpse of Jared when I came in.”
“You should go speak to him.”
I laughed. “No fucking way.” I had a sudden image in my mind of him sneering at me in front of his guests while he signaled for one of the WWE security guys to haul me off the premises while he shouted after me, “I can’t believe you actually crashed my party!”
Michael frowned at my language—what was it with Doms and their no cussing rules for subs—and pulled at Cruz’s arm. “We should circulate some and see people,” he said. “Try to find our host.”
“Not for me, thanks. I think I’ll go in the dungeon room and watch some scenes.”
“Oh yes, I’d like to do that too.” He turned to his Dom and leaned into him. “I want to go with Connor, Papi. You can go and find Jared and talk to the others if you like. And then you can find me later.”
Michael smiled indulgently at him and dropped a kiss on his forehead. “Okay, you two go have fun, and don’t get into trouble. Connor, be careful. There are some serious players here tonight. Don’t get in over your head.”
“I’ll be fine.”
He didn’t look reassured, but he patted Cruz on the ass and started back toward the entrance hall, maybe hoping to find Jared. Cruz and I headed for the dungeon room, aka ballroom. Right away, we saw a crowd gathered at one end of the room, where a tall, broad-shouldered man was wielding two floggers with skill and confidence against a flushed, sweaty young man. He made it all look so easy and effortless, the tails of the floggers flying in a harsh rhythm accompanied by the moans of the boy and the soft murmurs of those watching. The boy was strapped to a St. Andrew’s cross, his arms spread wide.
He was moaning but they sounded like groans of pleasure and not pain. I have to admit I was transfixed by it.
“What are you thinking?”
Cruz asked and never turning from the scene in front of me, I sighed deeply and said, “I’m wondering how it feels. And wishing I had the nerve to try it.”
“You’ve never done anything like this before, Connor. You’d need a Dom to work with you to get you to this level.”
"Why not let him decide for himself?" A handsome man with hair like I imagined a Nazi soldier might have, blond and buzzed, stepped closer to us and dragged a finger down my jaw. "What do you say, beautiful? Would you like me to show you? I promise to take it easy on you."
I recognized the guy. He was the one from the club who had talked about me like I was so much property to be bartered. Michael had called him Master Alex, I thought. He’d called him an asshole too, and I could see totally see it.
I opened my mouth to say no, and that's when Michael and Jared suddenly joined our little group. I think he had actually come over to speak to the other Dom about something, but I gasped out loud when I saw him, and he heard me and glanced down at me. He did an almost comical double take. Then he just stared at me. He started to scowl, but at the last minute a smirk turned up one corner of his mouth.
“So you decided to come after all, huh?”
“As you see. You don’t mind, do you?”
“Would it matter if I did?”
“Not much.”
We exchanged mean little smiles. The smile may have been mean, but the face it was attached to was, as aforementioned, still gorgeous. If I’d looked in the dictionary for the phrase, “tall dark and hot AF,” his picture would no doubt be there to illustrate. His black hair fell casually over his forehead and his eyes were so pale blue the poets would have had to come up with other words to describe them. Not me, though. I knew serial-killer eyes when I saw them.
He had on nothing but a leather vest, some black leather pants that were sinfully tight and what looked like biker boots. There wasn't an extra ounce of fat on him and forget about a six pack—his taut, tanned skin was stretched tightly over what had to be an eight pack. All of him was usually hidden under his clothes and I’d only seen his body in the dark. I had the sudden idea that he must hide his body because it gave him an unfair advantage over us mere mortals. And dear God, those lips of his. They were perfect and sensuous and curled with anger as he gazed down at me. I actually took a step backward.
He looked me over, and his lip curled even further. “What the hell,” he said, in a voice that instantly made my dick plump up, “Let’s start over, shall we? Hello, Connor. Fancy meeting you here.”
