by Corgan, Sky
The feeling is mutual. And the answer is amazing. At least, for me it is. Nothing else in the world matters except for what's happening right now. It's exactly what I needed. Exactly what I came here for.
He repositions himself, placing a leg up over the table next to my hip. When he starts thrusting again, it feels like he's reached the threshold of my depths. Dull fire aches inside of me every time his glans taps against my insides, and a torrent of whimpers fall from my lips as hot tears spill down my cheeks.
“Too big for you?” he muses between breaths.
It's not so much that as it is that he knows exactly how to angle himself to torture me. I refuse to give him the satisfaction of saying yes. He's not stopping for an answer anyway, so I can only assume that my tortured expression is enough.
Thankfully, it doesn't take long before the position becomes uncomfortable for him and he takes his leg down. The pressure inside of me returns to something bearable. I clamp my pussy around him every now and then, and he moans in approval.
“You're so fucking wet for me.”
The fact that he's gliding in and out of me with ease is proof enough of that. He picks up the pace, fucking me so hard that the table gives protest below us.
Pleasure swirls inside of me, the heat of him hammering into me gearing my body up for climax. For a moment, I think about asking him for permission to come. Then I say screw it, gasping as my body breaks from his carnal sex.
“Oh fuck!” he cries out, his grip tightening on the ropes around my wrists. He pushes into me hard, his balls slapping against my clit sending shuddering intensity into an already incredible orgasm.
I pant against the table, my hips instinctively moving back to meet him. Within seconds, I feel him swelling as he spurts into the condom. It's one of the best things I've felt all night, the extra bite of tightness from his dick pumping its juices, draining him of everything. His hands grope clumsily for my hips, and he presses all the way inside until his body has spent itself. I lay there with a blissful grin plastered across my face. Nothing could be more perfect.
***
Aftercare is comforting, but ever since I broke up with Robert, I've feared the closeness that comes with it. Sir Jeremy was nothing but kind to me after the scene. He unbound my wrists and soothed out the lingering burn on my ass with a gentle massage. Now I'm sitting on his lap in the middle of the club surrounded by strangers. Talking to his friends—pretending to make friends with them—feels too personal. I should have left the club the second that the scene was over, but I'm not ready to go home yet.
His arm is wrapped loosely around my waist. I've become an accessory. A show piece. They all know he fucked me. None of them care, though. He's probably fucked half of the girls in this place, if not more. And within a year's time, I'll probably have fucked half of the guys in this place. I don't need this false sense of closeness to him, especially since it was a one-time hookup for me.
I stay mostly quiet, observing rather than getting in on the conversation. Every once in a while, Sir Jeremy will ask me a question to make sure that I'm still somewhat engaged. I don't really feel like socializing though. The scene and rough sex have me pretty well worn out. All I want to do is relax and let the rest of the night pass by uneventful.
I lean against Sir Jeremy's chest, my eyelids growing heavy. Being in a man's arms does feel kind of nice. It reminds me of all of those nights that Robert and I spent curled up on the sofa together watching television. And suddenly I hate that a man is touching me, cuddling me. I push out of Sir Jeremy's arms and pull up a chair of my own. He gives me a queer look but doesn't argue. It's not like I tried to break away from him completely.
He offers me some alcohol and I take it, watching as he makes me a dry martini with the liquor and mixers spread out across the table. The group we're with is pretty big. Probably about fifteen kinksters. I'm way too lazy to count, and I don't particularly care.
As he makes my drink, my gaze shifts to a man standing in the public play area. He's leaning against the railing, staring down at me so intensely that it almost makes my heart stop. He is...breathtakingly handsome. Not in the sense that you look at a man and think he's gorgeous. Seeing him literally took my breath away.
His posture is perfect, his stance completely composed. The gray business suit he's wearing is pristine. His dark hair is slightly tousled, and judging by the way that the light is playing over his eyes, they're a pale shade. Probably blue. I'd like to get a closer look.
Suddenly, I feel trapped.
I offer him a smile, but his expression doesn't change. There's something about the way he's looking at me that makes me squirm internally. It's not just dominance. It's something else entirely though I can't quite place it.
Sir Jeremy nudges my shoulder, drawing my attention away to hand me my drink. Briefly, I wonder if he caught me gawking at the other guy. Then I remember that I don't care. He's nothing to me. Just a fuck for the night. And I'm nothing to him either. It doesn't matter that I'm already looking for my next conquest.
After taking a drink from the martini and wrinkling my nose(I don't particularly like martinis, but who is going to argue free alcohol), I snap back around to look for the man in the suit. He's gone. A hollowness fills my chest, irrational fear that I lost him. My body is coming back to life from seeing such a delicious morsel. Perhaps I could go for round two. It's not unheard of for a submissive to do two different scenes with two different Doms in one night, especially if she's unowned. Not unheard of, but also not very common. I think I'm up for it, though.
“Hey, are you alright?” Sir Jeremy asks, perhaps noticing that my head is turning like The Exorcist trying to relocate Sir Suit.
“I'm fine.” I flinch slightly when he touches my arm. “Just looking for someone.”
“You have a friend coming tonight?” He glances in the direction of the play area.
“No.” My jaw tightens out of annoyance from his curiosity.
He quirks an eyebrow, seemingly displeased, then turns back around to continue talking to his friends. Guilt rips through me. I know I just made it sound like I'm bored, and I instantly regret it. Am I being too selfish? Maybe I should just leave and let my hormones cool down. Sleeping with two men in one night is probably pushing it anyway.
I sulk in my chair, chugging down the martini to relax myself. The soreness between my legs tells me that I've had enough for one night. Enough sex. Enough pain. Enough bondage. Enough distraction.
I try to focus on the conversation, but the image of the man in the suit is burned into my mind. Every time I think about him, I feel drawn. It's such a weird feeling. Lust at first sight, perhaps? It happens a lot.
Sir Jeremy makes me another martini, and I take it down with just as much fervor as the last. Now that my gaze isn't straying, he doesn't seem so concerned about me. I'm quickly becoming restless, though, and the alcohol isn't helping.
Lazily, my eyes crawl over the room. Sir Suit is probably gone. Guys like that don't usually last long before they find a submissive. And patience isn't very common in places like this. Find what you want. Go for it. If that person says no or seems occupied, move on to the next.
I'm surprised when I see him sitting at a table in the corner of the room. Alone. His elbows are propped up on the table, his hands steepled. He's staring at me over them, his gaze every bit as intense as it was before. Those eyes. It's like he's able to bend me over the table and fuck me with them. I shudder, my pleasure core firing off from desire for him.
It may be greedy—it may look slutty—but I can't let this one get away. Not this one. I have a feeling he could rock my world and make me walk out of here bow-legged. Sir Jeremy has already done a good job of that, but for some reason, this new guy makes my body hungry all over again. I have to have a taste of him.
Without a word to the group, I slip off of my chair and try not to seem too hasty as I make a beeline for Sir Suit. His expression hasn't changed, even knowing that I'm coming strai
ght towards him. It's a bit unsettling. Most Doms, I can easily read. There's something different about this guy though. Maybe that's why I want him so badly. Not only is he drop dead gorgeous, but he seems like a challenge.
I'm halfway to him when a firm pull on my arm causes me to spin on my heels. I groan internally when I come face to face with Sir Jeremy. He's wearing a caustic grin, and his grip is so tight that I can't even hope to pull out of it.
“Are you leaving?” He quirks his head slightly.
It's obvious that my answer can't be anything other than yes or he's going to get pissed off. Possessive much?
“Yes,” I hesitate, desperately wanting to look back at Sir Suit but knowing it would be the wrong move.
“Let me walk you out.” He lets go of me finally, motioning towards the door.
Fuck. There's no way out of this. I have to leave now.
I force a smile and flank his side, feeling a heaviness in my chest with every step that takes me further away from the handsome Dom in the corner of the room. Every potential scenario that could have happened fades away, and I can't help but wonder if I'll be lucky enough to see him again like I was to see Sir Jeremy tonight. Sir Jeremy was surrounded by people both times I came to Club Fet though. This guy is completely alone. It could mean that he's new. And if that's the case, then this was my only chance to be with him. That thought makes me grumpy, but I try my best not to show it. By the time we reach my car, my mood is beyond sour.
“I had a lot of fun with you tonight.” Sir Jeremy reaches up to brush a loose strand of hair behind my ear.
“I did too.” I stare down at the pavement, hating that he's making our last few moments together so intense.
“Maybe I'll see you again,” he sounds hopeful.
“I'll be around.”
“I should probably rephrase that.” He takes a step closer, making me feel claustrophobic. His large fingers touch the underside of my chin, tilting my face up and forcing me to look at him. “I'd like to see you again.”
Darkness is in his eyes—the look that says he wants me. Once wasn't enough for him. He's making that as clear as day.
I swat his hand away, but I don't break his gaze. “Listen, Jeremy, Sir. I had fun with you tonight too. But it was a one-time thing.”
“Did you not enjoy yourself?” His expression twists in offense.
“No. It's not that.” I quickly shake my head. Realizing that I need to do damage control, I slide my thumbs into the pockets of his pants. “You were good. Really good. Amazing, even. It's just...a personal thing.”
“Explain,” his tone is hard.
I cringe inside, annoyed that he's pushing me.
“I like to keep sex and emotions separate. One time is fine, but if we do it more than once...” I trail off, unsure of how else to explain myself.
“What if that's what I want from you?” The muscles in his jaw relax. He seems pleased with my response.
“I'm not at a place in my life where I can handle having emotional attachments.” I stare out towards the street. Not only is it a true statement, but I also don't want to get close to anyone. Not now. Not ever again.
“I'm sorry to hear you say that.” He takes a few steps backwards. The night air rushes in to fill the gap between us, and I feel like I can breathe again. “Let me know if you change your mind.”
“I will.” I smile at him, watching him turn and walk back towards the club. As soon as his back is to me, I scowl. He was nice, but a bit too possessive. And he completely screwed me out of the chance to be with one of the most gorgeous men I've ever laid eyes on.
CHAPTER TWO
HOLDEN
It's been a long day spent pouring over facts and numbers of a pharmaceutical company that claims they've figured out a cure for HIV but don't have the means to produce it. Investing is serious business, and one wrong transaction can rob me of millions of dollars in the blink of an eye. The company seems promising. They've produced a lot of good work throughout the three years that they've been around. I've heard pipe dream promises before though. Cures for cancer and Alzheimers and AIDs. A dying company will say whatever it has to to get more funding and stay afloat.
I don't want to think about that anymore though. That's why I came here, to Club Fet. Leave business at the door. Pleasure awaits inside.
I slip in through the backdoor to avoid the bustling crowd up front, and the dungeon master nods me in. This is another investment of mine though more on a personal level. Things that I enjoy, I don't mind throwing money at, especially if it makes life more convenient for me. And I have a lot of money to throw around. More than any one person could ever need.
My eyes scan the crowd, a mix of about seventy-five percent regulars and twenty-five percent new members who just want a taste of the lifestyle. It's easy to separate the serious kinksters from the ones who are just curious. The serious ones are more engaged, roaming the floor and the play areas, searching for someone to take them on. All the rest are wallflowers, sticking to the seating areas and staring in wonder at everything going on around them. I make no judgment about them. They bring business to this place, and for that, they're useful.
I inhale deeply, taking in the faint scents of leather and sex and alcohol on my way up to the play area. All of the faces upstairs are familiar. Some of the owned submissives avert their eyes. Others smile and politely greet me. Many of them, I've had before. I want something different tonight. Something new and exciting to distract my mind from the day's business.
The club is packed. I lean on the railing, staring down at the crowd of gyrating bodies on the dance floor. There's a strobe light playing on top of them, making it difficult to pick out faces. After a few minutes, I turn my attention to the seating area. If I were in a better mood, I'd go socialize. That's not what I'm here for though. I'm here for...
A woman sitting with a group of regulars catches my attention. I can't fully see her face, but she has a beautiful profile. Long black hair waving softly over her shoulders and down her back. A smooth, pale complexion. Large breasts pushed up high in a tight red corset.
I trace my tongue over my bottom lip, my eyes moving to the Dom sitting beside her. Jeremy Matthews. Several years younger than me. Relatively new to the lifestyle, but already proving to be a competent Dom. So many of them come to the club half-cocked, thinking they can get in on the action with no experience. The kid has shown a willingness to learn though, and he's certainly already made himself popular with the ladies. Charismatic and hard to hate, that one.
I should forget about the girl sitting beside him. It's obvious that he's already won her over. Time to move on to someone more accessible, though no one else in the club is anywhere near as stunning.
I allow my gaze to lazily drift over the other new faces in the room. It keeps coming back to her, though, to the gorgeous raven-haired girl who looks oh so miserable sitting with Sir Jeremy. There's no harm in staring at her until someone else of interest comes in. Even if Sir Jeremy catches me, he won't do anything about it. He has a healthy fear of me, as does everyone else in here who knows me. If I want her badly enough, I could come take her. There are rules in places like this though, and I'd lose a lot of respect if I broke them. It's better to let this one slide.
She turns her head and our eyes lock. The dark eyeliner she's wearing makes the pale blue of her irises stand out. Her face is even more beautiful from the front than it was from the side. Her lips are full, the color of blood. I can imagine that mouth wrapped around my dick, and my body stirs with want.
I expect her to avert her eyes the moment she catches me staring, but she doesn't. Heat flushes her cheeks before reaching her gaze and pushing through the air to meet me. Any question I had about her loyalty to Jeremy is answered in that instant. The interest is there—the same desire firing back at me.
Then Sir Jeremy ruins the moment by nudging her shoulder. He glances up at me, and I know he can see my intent. I want to fuck her, and if he breaks away from h
er for even the briefest amount of time, I'll swoop in and claim her. From here on out, it's going to be all about playing the waiting game.
There's no point in staying upstairs in plain sight. That will only make me look like a creeper. It's time to retreat to the shadows and bide my time.
I find a table in the corner of the room, away from the action, and position my chair so that I have a clear line of sight. It seems that Sir Jeremy has managed to get the raven-haired beauty back in line by engaging her in conversation. There's no smile on her face. I wonder who she is to him or what has transpired between them tonight, not that any of it really matters. Just something to think about to pass the time. It doesn't change my need to conquer her. She could be his sister, for all I care. It wouldn't stop me.
I prop my elbows up on the table and steeple my hands, trying to get comfortable in case it's a long wait. I can be rather patient when it comes to getting what I want—at least, in situations like this. Other circumstances might make me less rational. Seduction is an art, though, an art that takes time and precision and care.
I sit and wait and watch. She's drinking like alcohol is going out of style, which displeases me. I prefer my submissives to be completely coherent during sex. Beggars can't be choosers though, and my need to bury my dick between her soft folds is much greater than my need to have her sober.
Finally, she looks around again. It doesn't take her long to find me. As soon as she does, her eyes come to life. I don't waver. We can eye fuck each other until the world ends, but that doesn't change the distance between us. I can't advance. Not while she's sitting with Jeremy's group.
As if reading my mind, she stands suddenly. My pulse quickens as I realize she's crossing the room towards me. There's no need for me to move. She's going to deliver herself right into my arms—into my bed.
But then Sir Jeremy notices that his little prize is missing, and he scowls in my direction before chasing after her. I curse internally though there's no point in getting upset about it. Just because he's trying to pull her back doesn't mean that she's lost to me.
