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Her glance over at Beau was a private thing I wished I hadn’t seen, turning back to Leon and seeking his lips.
He kissed me gentler, smiling against my mouth when I whined my protest. “Plenty of time to fill those lips inside,” he murmured, his heated gaze skimming down my front. He followed his gaze with a graze of his knuckles over the exposed curve of my breast, and I moaned.
“Let’s go.” Beau’s whip-sharp command snapped us both out of our lust-induced haze.
I followed Leon into the club, my hands tangled between his and Sylvie’s. I wondered that she wasn’t as much my support crew for the night as I was meant to be for her.
Inside the club the next moments passed in a blur. A lime spritzer was pressed into my hand–non-alcoholic as far as I could work out–while a dedicated red ribbon stamped with the club’s name and a lacy pattern on it was clipped to my wrist.
I twirled it around, running my fingers over the pretty embossing.
“Red means you’re off limits to playing with others, apart from us, of course. The drink is for hydration. You can have something alcoholic afterwards if you like, but I don't think you’ll need anything more than your man’s arms around you.”
I stared up into Beau’s intense stare that called my bullshit out on the spot and left me exposed. “You know a lot about what they do here.”
“I should. It used to belong to my brother.”
“And now?” I frowned as he turned away sharply and strode toward Sylvie, catching her arm and heading toward a set of black painted stairs that led downward.
“Now?” He turned back to me, the faintest hint of a dark smile teasing the corner of his lips. “Now, it’s mine.”
Sylvie shook her head when I opened my mouth, but it was Leon’s hand on my arm that stopped me.
“Don’t ask,” he murmured. “At least until tomorrow, okay?” His eyes were hard, begging me to trust him, demanding I keep the peace.
Sure, I could do that.For now.
“Alright,” I murmured, wobbling on the top step of the stairs that seemed to descend into a void of nothingness. Even Beau and Sylvie disappeared.
“Come here.” Leon wrapped an arm around my waist, lifting me lengthwise along his hip and descended the stairs quickly. My feet never touched the floor until we arrived at the next level where he slid me along his body, his chest working hard, but I didn’t think it was from the exertion of a few stairs.
Around a corner an usher with a slim black light torch illuminated a set of door numbers. The door we headed toward stood ajar, and Leon pushed it in, murmuring his thanks as he pressed a hand between my shoulder blades.
“Ladies first.”
The comment about not being a lady that nearly fell from my tongue notwithstanding, I tripped into the room that remained dark until the door sealed shut with a slight whooshing sound.
What in all the hells have I gotten myself into?
I grabbed for Leon’s shirt–or arm or any part of his anatomy–as the soft lights flicked on along the walls, but it wasn’t my boyfriend’s shirt I grabbed.
It was Beau’s.
“Sorry,” I muttered under my breath, releasing my death grip that crinkled his perfect shirt and backing off until I hit a wall of warm muscle that felt like– I swung around and nearly face planted into a wall of manflesh. “I warned you that this thing was dangerous.”
“Have I ever told you you’ve got a smart mouth?” Leon advanced on me, his hands cupping my cheeks and he kissed me violently. “Fuck, I want to be buried in you. Have I told you how fucking beautiful you are?” He stared through me, his fingers knotted in my hair.
“No,” I whispered.
“You are. Both of you,” Beau answered for him.
Leon turned me in his arms so I faced Beau and Sylvie. Somehow, he had the time to get her into the room, cut her clothes off –literally. Shreds of her black dress hung at either side of her, and a pair of deadly looking scissors glinted dully in his hand. Sylvie sat on a wooden backed chair, her wrists bound to the arms, her ankles tied in a pretty pale pink rope to the legs. In her mouth was a ball gag, a red and black plastic thing that looked scary as all hell.
But that wasn’t all I could see. Both of her breasts and her glistening pussy were on full display.
Beau laughed softly at my reaction, wandering away to swap the scissors–thankfully–out for a hand held flogger that had black and purple strands dangling from it. “It’s quite soft, but it makes a nice noise.” He slapped it over his palm and both Sylvie, and I jumped. “More of a sensation than an impact toy, this one. Though I have others.”
“Of course you do.” My sass rose to the forefront, probably to my detriment.
