by Kenya Wright
“You’ll see them. I can’t give them all away.”
I smiled. “So that one party was how you rose to the top?”
“Yes. Word spread fast. Everyone kept asking to be invited. Others wanted to host a few themselves, in their mansions and on their properties. That year we threw parties in Dubai, Los Angeles, Tokyo and Amsterdam. New York and Paris.”
We were alone in the hallway. Those rooms stood before me. I knew we should be heading to door number one. I knew that he couldn’t say much to me, for fear that others were listening, but still I shivered a little in fear.
So I continued to stand there and ask him questions, “Do you feel like a pimp?”
He laughed. “No, I feel more like a match maker of the most elite freaks.”
I gazed nervously at the first door. “Do you ever feel weird about it?”
“No, everyone practice’s safe sex. I don’t have prostitutes or sex workers at my parties.”
“But still, your sort of hosting elaborate orgies.”
“Orgies have been part of humanity since the earliest recorded history.” He guided me to the first door. “In fact, let me show you.”
My heart boomed in my chest. As if he realized that I was a bit nervous to go in the first room, he held my hand and didn’t pull me forward. “This is a masquerade ball, one that’s similar to the balls held back in the day.”
“Did they get freaky at balls years ago?”
“People have always been freaky. There were public pleasure gardens in the 1700s. Royalty would party until early in the morning. They had high-end decorations and top quality food and music. But most of all, these masked events served as a way to explore voyeurism, exhibitionism, and unrestrained eroticism.”
I gave him a weak smile. “Those sound like fun things to explore.”
“Yes.” He raised his hand and traced the air in front of my lips, as if drawing my mouth for memory. “With the masks on, women were able to be free for the evening. They didn’t have to think that their sexual desires were improper and lewd.”
I wanted to bite that finger as it continued to outline my mouth. “So the masks made them free to do what they wanted?”
“Yes.” Sighing, he licked his lips and came closer to me. “I wish this wasn’t an interview.”
My heart beats increased. “And what do you wish it was?”
“I wish that tonight served as your sexual journey through this castle, and that I was your exclusive guide, here to provide you with anything you desired.” He raised his fingers to my cheekbones, but again didn’t touch me, instead he brushed his fingers against the feathers on my mask. “I wish I had a few nights with you.”
I swallowed. “It seems like we should just get started with this interview. Get it all out of the way, and maybe explore those things another time.”
“That sounds good.” He backed away from me, and I wished he’d at least tried to take a kiss. I didn’t need to kiss him. Too much was going on around us to mess with him. Plus, he probably had so many women, messing around with him wouldn’t be a good idea.
Damn. He’s too much. How hasn’t some amazing chick locked him down? Well, he’s probably impossible to lock down.
“Emily. Emily,” he whispered as he opened the door.
“Call me, Emi.” I strolled by him glad that we’d be out of the hallway and at least be around other people. Being alone with him was hard, I wanted his hands on me. It couldn’t be helped. Even though my brain knew that his touching me would be my undoing.
That sexy man caught me from behind, grasping my hips and some of the gown in his large hands. He brushed his lips against my ear. “And what would I call you, if you were lying naked in my bed?”
I trembled against him. “I don’t know.”
“Oh, you know, Emi.” My nickname on his tongue was a nasty thing to hear. He might as well had said pussy or clit the way he moaned my name. “What would I call you?”
Thankfully, the gown was big and had enough fabric between his fingers and my body. “I think you would need to call me the only one.”
“The only one?” He closed the doorway and turned to me.
Nervousness already bounced through me, but now it went into overdrive. The way he studied me, made me feel like I was naked. As if he’s unbuttoned every hook on the back of my gown, one-by-one, as my heart boomed and my thighs went slick with wetness. He stared at me like the gown had fallen to the floor along with my corset and panties. As if I stood there exposed to him—stiff nipples and aching thighs.
“Yes,” I said. “The only one.”
“I’ve never considered anyone the only one, but anything is possible.” He closed the distance between us. “For example, I’ve never had a problem with keeping my hands or lips off of a woman before, but here I am trying my best to keep some space between us. Because again, for the first time, I’m going crazy in my head wondering what you look like naked and if it’s as delicious as I imagined. For the first time, my head has been off the things that have been stressing me these past months, and I’ve been able to breath and only think of you.”
I parted my lips, but had nothing to say.
“Can I kiss you, Emi?”
A thrill shivered through me, but there were other things at stake. And I had no idea how high the stakes were. I couldn’t just take him, no matter how bad I wanted to. He’d talked about taking me into hell. What was he involved in? How guilty was he, too?
No matter how badly I craved him, I had to be careful.
“No,” I whispered, although I knew my eyes blazed with lust and he was smart enough to see my reaction to him.
“No?”
“No.” I bit my lip.
“You’re very careful, Emi.”
“I’ve had some hard lessons from the past that have kept me doing things the right way in the present.”
His next words came out in a hungry plea. “And so I can’t taste you?”
Heat throbbed so hard between my thighs. I could barely remain standing. Thankfully the gown hid me squeezing them together and the mask hid most of my face.
My response was a weak murmur, “No, you can’t.”
He leaned his face closer to me. “And what about your cheek?”
My chest rose and fell, my cleavage stirred over the corset and snared his gaze to my breasts. “What about my cheek, Roman?”
“Can I kiss it? Surely, that’s a friendly gesture. Nothing more.”
“Surely,” I panted.
Licking his lips, he leaned in, moment by moment, but didn’t kiss me, instead he slipped his mouth against my face. Across my chin and a gently pecked my nose, then he turned his attention to my cheeks. My skin burned with lust. My lips tingled with jealousy. His mouth was as soft and full as a flower. So odd for such a hard and muscular man. But his mouth was the full bloom of an exotic rose and those petals danced along my cheek in soft, sensual wisps.
Damn. Kiss me more.
My breath left me as those seconds froze and lengthened into minutes that shifted into hours. I don’t know how long he left tiny kisses on my cheeks, but somewhere in the moments of my heart stopping and sound going still, our fingers locked together.
“You’re so lucky.” His body smoothed against mine. His scent—masculine and expensive—draped and mingled with mine. Each contact of his lips and my flesh, made my pussy pulse with heat and my blood pump with need. I closed my eyes as he dragged himself away from me. I couldn’t let him see how much I starved for him from just those tiny kisses.
His voice maintained that deep whisper. “What we’re going to do is more important than what I want, right now.”
I opened my eyes and realized he looked as pained and hungry as I felt.
“I’m going to do my best to behave.”
I could barely talk, “Okay.”
“But you’re very lucky.”
“No, you’re lucky.” I got on my toes and held onto his arms. I devoured his lips. He gasped into
my mouth and gathered me and the gown within his arms. Moans mixed between our panting breaths. This was insane. Our kisses shouldn’t have felt so good just from knowing him for less than an hour. Things weren’t supposed to happen this way and so fast.
When I pulled away from his lips, he let out a soft groan and I knew those kisses got to him, too.
“Yes,” I whispered. “You’re lucky too.”
And then I dragged myself away from the comfort of his hold, opened the door, and entered the first room.
CHAPTER 6
Roman
“You’re lucky too,” she’d said.
Why couldn’t she have said nothing at all. That one statement had my cock going crazy, and when she kissed me, it came so unexpectedly, all I could do was drown in her.
“You’re lucky too.”
Had she understood that those words would make me so curious to see what she meant? Did she get that the animal inside of me took it as a challenge and wanted to go wild all over her flesh? Did she have any idea what type of man she was talking too?
I’m lucky? You better be happy that there’s something bigger than us going on or I would make you take those words back with one lick at a time.
A cinnamon scent flowed in the air. Egyptian drawings and hieroglyphs glowed along the walls. A gold pyramid sat in the center. Sand covered the ground. Dim gold and purple lighting helped make the atmosphere more like the desert at sunset. Nude servants strolled throughout the room, handing out lovely drinks that had smoke or flowers bursting from the top of the glasses.
I followed behind her. Those men in purple masks had waited by the door. They didn’t even try to hide the fact that they’d been standing there for us. And with Emi being such a pro, she made no point of bringing them up, though her gaze fell too them one time too many.
She continued to walk ahead of me. The gown flowed around Emi, making her look like a swan gliding into the darkness. Men watched her. Although they wore their masks, I could see the hunger in their eyes. This wasn’t the level for her to get admirers. Nothing but uber rich freaks walked up here.
I rushed to her side and captured her hand, making sure that they all knew she was with me. Everyone recognized that I was hosting and what mask I would wear; it was shown in the invitations.
A server came to us, and I shook my head no, not wanting Emi or me to have anything in those glasses. Up here, my partner took more control. There was no certainty that he hadn’t tried to drug everyone just for fun.
Here we go. I’ll slowly show you, Emi.
All of the VIP guests waited. The performers stood in front of the pyramids. There were five men. Leopard skins draped their shoulders. Various colors of linen wrapped around their centers. A lion’s tail hung from each belt. Their bald heads shined. They weren’t Egyptian, but they looked the part. Tanned skin covered in muscles that bulged everywhere they were supposed to.
In the center, a naked woman stood in front of the pyramid. Her mask was a lioness. The eyes gold. The fur short and real looking. She held a sharp spear in her hand.
“What’s going on?” Emi whispered to me.
I led Emily to the front. “This room is honoring the Festival of Drunkenness. It used to take place on the first month of the ancient Egyptian year.”
“Like New Years?”
“Similar, but this was a serious ceremony to honor the warrior goddess, Sekhmet. She’s portrayed as a lioness and was considered a fierce hunter.”
The five men circled the woman with the lioness mask. They strolled around her and the woman laughed, rubbing her nipples and slipping her fingers within her sex.
Emi widened her eyes. “Was she powerful?”
“It’s said that Sekhmet made the desert just from breathing,” I said.
One man came close to the masked woman. The woman, pretending to be Sekhmet, raised her spear in the air, roared, and stabbed one of the men in the arm. Blood sprayed from the wound. He fell to the ground, but instead of screaming in defeat, he laughed at her and licked his lips. And so she jabbed him again with the spear.
The crowd cheered as more blood spilled from the man’s wound. The goddess speared another man in the leg. This time the red liquid dripped onto the floor. The woman, surely in her role, touched the ground, gathered some drops on her fingers, and licked the blood up as she moaned.
Emi muttered, “What the hell?”
“This is a different type of group.”
“O-kay,” Emi mumbled.
“Yeah, she’s not a gentle goddess. The story goes that she was tricked by the sun god, Ra, to drink a liquid that made her drunk. Before that she’d been a pretty wild warrior god.”
“How was she, after the drink?” Emi asked.
“She shifted into a nicer goddess. And so the ceremony was a festival of drinking, food, and sex.”
Holding large jugs, two nude women in wooden masks rushed to the goddess with their heads down and shoulders bowed over. They didn’t dare look at Sekhmet as they raised the jugs in the air. Hissing, the goddess stalked toward them, got in front of the jugs, and sniffed them.
Emi gestured to the bleeding men as they gathered the blood dripping out of their own flesh and stroked their cocks. “Is the blood real?”
“Yes.”
She frowned.
“These are all people who wanted to do this.”
“Did they really do stuff like this back in ancient Egypt?” Emi asked.
“There’s data going back to 1470 BC. Evidence shows that from poor to rich, it didn’t matter, everyone participated. And they engaged in this drunk fest everywhere—desert, temples, and even in their homes.”
All around us, nude women came out holding trays and handing the audience similar wooden jugs that Sekhmet held. Most took them. I gestured for Emi not to take one. I needed her eyes open and ears listening. And she must’ve agreed as she kept her hands down and stared more at the injured warriors gyrating on the ground and rubbing their bloody cocks.
More nude women filled the space and tip toed to performance. Larger jugs lay in their arms. As soon as they got to those warriors, they raised the jugs above the men’s heads and poured a thick red liquid over them, and the scent of blood rose in the room. Red stained the warriors’ feet and decorated most of the sand in front of them. Their wet flesh sparkled in the glowing light.
Emi stepped back. “What was that?”
I placed my arm around her waist and held her to me. “Human blood.”
She stiffened against me. “Why?”
“There are some that find blood erotic and enjoy mixing it with their sex.”
“Do you mix blood with your sex?”
“No. Do you?”
She blushed. “No.”
I couldn’t help it. I had to ask. “What are you into, Emi?”
“If I told you, then you wouldn’t behave.”
Heat swarmed in my chest. “Maybe you should let me decide that?”
“No, I think you should just count yourself lucky.”
Damn you. Stop saying that. I’m close to taking you back into the hallway and having my way with you.
She turned back to the performance. “Now what’s going to happen?”
“They are going to show the moment when the goddess, Sekhmet, becomes Hathor.”
The people in the front of the crowd stirred at the sight of more blood. Some of them groped the ones next to them. I doubted they all came together. At my parties, masked strangers often strolled together, hand-in-hand, totally engaged in each other as if they’d known each other for years. It was something about the concealed identity that allowed a person to completely let go.
In the center of the warriors, Sekhmet snatched the jugs from the kneeling nude women and drank. Clear liquid streamed down her face and bare breasts. It dripped from her nipples and dotted her feet. Still, she lifted the jug higher, guzzling the alcohol down like a mad woman.
The crowd roared and drank along with her. The pyramid boomed
and opened at the center. Drummers marched out. There were bulky men with elegantly designed fabrics wrapped around their waists. Their muscles bulged as they held big goblet shaped drums in one of their arms and beat the top with the free hand.
The blood-drenched warriors rose from the floor and wound their bodies like snakes. Their erections bobbed with the drum’s rhythm. They wound their hips and howled, caressing their chests and stroking the tips of their cocks, insane with lust.
Emi smoothed her body even closer to me. I didn’t know if that was due to the lust of what was going on, or if she was freaked out and needed my safety. Regardless, I loved her body next to mine. I brought her to the front of me and pulled her in, letting the bottom of her gown swarm around my legs and push out a little more in front of her.
Bringing my mouth to the side of her face, I whispered, “How are you?”
“It’s definitely different.”
“It is.”
“Lots of blood.”
“There’ll be more later.” I shouldn’t have, but I slipped my hands up her bare arms. I told myself that it was just to make sure she wasn’t trembling. But deep inside, I knew it was getting harder and harder to keep my hands off of her. “We’re just checking out the introduction performances for each room.”
“Wow,” she said. “And blood sex is only the first room? What’s in the others?”
“You’ll see.”
She sighed. “Okay.”
I backed up as my cock began to grow. Although I damn sure wanted to rub it up against her ass, now was not the time, and the mission had nothing to do with me sampling her flesh. But damn I wanted to do that and more.
Clearing my throat, I said, “I’m going to show you this whole floor.”
“And will each room have an introduction performance?”
“Yes, it’s given at certain times throughout the party. I have us on a schedule to see most of them. The performances tell the guests the room’s rules. For example, we’ve learned about Sekhmet, but truly the performance told my guests that knife and blood play are permitted in this room. Soon the guests will begin to engage themselves.” I took her hand. Together we walked through the blood lust crowd, distancing ourselves from the center floor where the performance was and going further into the back of the room.
