“Mmm! My sweet little queen has a secret,” he whispered against the delicate shell. His breath made her flesh burn where he’d almost broken the skin, thrilling her. “She likes it hard, doesn’t she?” He grasped her ass until she whimpered for more and responded by pinching the inside of her thigh. The prickle of pleasure and pain flickered up her leg, making her squirm. “I’m going to put you on your feet.”
She nodded, feeling vague and fuzzy headed, but somehow her knees didn’t buckle on her. He kept his arm around her for support, his expression all smug. And that damn white smile.
“He, whoever he is, doesn’t deserve you,” he said, knuckle nuzzling under her chin to keep her face tilted up to him.
“Oh really?” she asked as he pulled her in tighter against him. “And you think you do?”
“You can answer that at the end of the weekend,” he whispered and kissed the tip of her nose.
He led her from the room with his arm still around her. “What would you like to see first? Our rooms? The atrium? The stables?” His eyes twinkled down at her as he posed his questions.
“Stables?” she asked, frowning up at him.
“Ah, a woman with quality taste. We will start your education there.”
“No, I mean, they have stables?” She didn’t resist his guidance though. The lodge was beautiful, decorated in a mixture of Victorian-style harvest and winter-holiday-inspired wreaths and garlands. They were all full of golden twinkle lights. It didn’t matter what they saw first as long as she got to see everything.
They came through a large room with a roaring fireplace as its focal point. The space was crowded with guests. It had been years since she was somewhere nice and nothing nearly equivalent to the grandeur here. She drew up taller, as though that would make her feel less out of place.
“Yes, but they are not for real horses anymore. It’s all for the pony play these—”
Someone brushed past them, moving fast and paying no attention to their path in their flight. The person rammed hard against Vans’s shoulder, knocking her into Dragon. The silvery cloak fluttered as the person ran by. The figure under the cloak was a woman, not quite as tall as Vans, thin except for the augmented breasts almost spilling over the top of her black velvet dress. The outfit didn’t match the cloak or the mask. It seemed out of place somehow.
Beside her, Dragon growled a warning and the woman glanced over her slim shoulder. “Son of a bitch,” he snarled lower. An ethereal owl mask in white and opal with silver filigree gleamed under the shadow of the hood. The woman behind the mask scowled and pulled the cloak around her more tightly before continuing her run across the room. She almost ran right into another couple standing by the hearth in her haste to leave.
“Stay here a moment. I’ll be right back.” Dragon squeezed her arm and released her. He jogged after the woman in the owl mask.
“Wait… What are you—” She lifted her voice to stop him. Dragon didn’t bother looking back at her once. He chased after the stranger.
Conversations around her faded to silence. People looked at her, their expressions varied from curious to sympathetic. Fuck them. Fuck that asshole running off after some random pussy too. She rubbed furiously at her ear where he’d bitten her, willing the sensation to go away.
Instead of staying there alone, to be stared at like some freak, she continued through the room. Several couples were happily enjoying their playtime. Some almost naked, others using cloaks as cover. One quad spilled over a cozy sofa, busily at work unhooking costume pieces enough to get at each other while not upsetting their masks. No one else in the room cared about their activity, aside from a few hungry looks and encouraging murmurs.
Apparently that was the orgy room. She found herself staring and had to force her gaze away from an exquisite view of a woman in a star-spangled mask getting her pink pussy licked by a horned ram. Well, a man behind a ram mask anyway. There was something primal and animalistic about his licking, as though he couldn’t get enough of her. He wore a delicate golden chain around his neck, the end held between the woman’s long fingers. She pulled him up from his cunnilingus to her mouth, where the pair kissed feverishly.
As Vans moved down a hall past the orgy room, she realized how much she liked this. It felt natural somehow. She strutted past room after room, enjoying the way it felt when people looked at her. Toying with the token, she again considered taking it off and tossing it away.
Her thoughts were still on the removal of the thing when she climbed the main staircase. The banisters were trimmed with evergreen, pinecones and glistening cranberry clusters. She heard a familiar voice, the same rumble that she remembered insulting her not so long ago.
Leo.
It sent a barb of renewed irritation through that spot inside her that had recently been filled with liquid warmth. The cold of the response was sobering and she pressed herself against the wall to listen without being seen.
“…told you before what I needed.”
“You weren’t always so black and white. Why does it have to be all or nothing?” said a woman’s voice, which was pitched with an exotic accent, and instantly she knew it had to be the Queen Bee.
“I tried that with you. For a long time. Neither of us were happy.”
“I thought you would enjoy sharing my new play toy together. As I recall, you enjoy that. A lot. And for the pony races I could harness you together as a team. Ivory and ebony. I think it would be a crowd pleaser. You certainly know how to please and so does she.”
“What about her? Do you think she wants to share you?”
“She’ll just have to deal with it. I’m sure she’ll be—”
“This is what I’m talking about. You don’t ever think about what others want.”
“Archer, please. I need you.” The woman’s voice lowered to a low, throaty purr of a moan. Vans shivered, imagining she could feel the woman’s velvety tongue through the shadows that concealed her.
“No you don’t. I’m going.”
“Come to my room with me, Archer. Just for an hour. You don’t have a token. No one to sponsor you. No one to care for you like I do. Do you remember how I used to care for you? Do you think anyone could do that for you again?” So confident. Her voice sounded husky and heavy with sexual power.
“Do not touch me.”
“You don’t have a safe word here. No one will hear you. And I can see you want it. Ahh yes! Just as long and hard as I—”
“I said no.” The sound of shuffling feet, the sigh and whisper of fabric and leather and the huffed exhale of irritation filled the silence.
“She is going to be busy all night you know. Your little Owl bitch. I made quite sure of that.”
“What?” The question came out like a strangled growl from the back of his throat.
“That’s right. You think you can replace me with some amateur? You think I will let you? Well, she’ll be having all her holes filled by some randy frat boys by now I think. Will you still want her after she’s been sullied like that?”
“What are you talking about?”
“The pudgy Owl you’re wasting yourself on.”
Vans had heard enough. She remembered the expression of pain on the lovely pink-garbed flamingo’s face. The skinny, busty woman who ran into her in the orgy room wasn’t Ursa but she’d worn an owl mask. Was that the same woman who had caused Vans’s date to give chase? She stepped up the stairs, frowning at what awaited her in the alcove.
The woman had removed her taffeta and organza skirt. It lay some distance down the hall where she’d obviously been stalking the masked archer. Her pussy was bare, shaved smooth, and the dark skin of her thighs gleamed with the excitement from this particular chase. She had him pressed against the wall but he held her wrists, keeping them from their destination, which must have been under his armored skirting. They both shot a look at her.
“Well, this is sweet,” Vans drawled, putting her fists on her hips.
“This doesn’t conc
ern you, slave,” Queen Bee hissed and turned back to Leo-Archer, increasing her attempts to get at him. There wasn’t anything sexy about the movements. Bee was all desperation and horrible need. Vans could relate to that. Through the twist of sympathy she felt a chilled, nauseating sensation of disgust.
“He doesn’t want you,” Vans snapped. “Let him go.”
The distraction allowed Leo to twist away. He shoved the Bee away. There was obvious gentleness in the action—he was trying not to harm her. He managed to twist free, his movement graceful for a man his size. Spinning deftly, he hopped back onto the balls of his feet to put distance between himself and Queen Bee. Vans thought he’d fall for sure, but he moved so fast, light as a dancer.
“Fuck!” Bee snarled, trying once more to grab on to him, but he was too quick.
He continued moving back while Vans threw herself in the woman’s path. Bee’s eyes burned with dark fire and she lunged forward with a furious squeal, grabbing Vans’s token. The attached ribbon ripped off with a loud pop.
Vans jerked her hand back and swung at Bee’s lovely cheek. The sound her palm made across her cheek rang through the upper hallway. Downstairs, voices stilled and a clap went up from the merrymakers who heard the impact.
Vans balled up her fist and poised it to swing next if the woman didn’t back down. “I said leave him alone. Next time, it’s going to be knuckles on that pretty face, you crazy bitch.”
Archer’s face looked grim, his dark skin slick. Vans imagined the woman licking at him, or worse, smearing herself all over him. Or perhaps it was tears running down his face behind the mask. His shoulders shook with barely restrained emotion but his voice came out hard. “You are out of your fucking mind. This is low. Especially for you!”
His words shamed Bee, or perhaps the slap had driven some sense into her. With distance between them, apparently rational thought returned to the woman. Bee lifted both hands to her face, eyes going round behind the ornate curves of the mask. “Oh.”
Vans remained blocking her path, daring her to try anything. “I do have a fucking safe word,” Vans told her. She wasn’t sure what good it would be in an empty hall where no one could hear. Fast footsteps echoed in the hall, racing up from the direction of the pile of discarded skirting.
Bee’s head fell forward and she sank down to her knees and covered her eyes. Then the suited-and-masked doormen swept in. They were not taking any chances it seemed, armed with Tasers and billy clubs. There must be cameras around to catch such activity in these back corridors. Or were they just lucky?
Vans regarded Leo, who looked horrified through his haze of anger and shock. Distantly she thought this should make her feel satisfied and smug. Instead she only felt bad for the guy. What about Ursa? She frowned at him, with his lack of a key or a token. He was here fishing for sex while playing Ursa? She shook her head at him.
“You’re an asshole for doing this to Ursa,” she hissed at him, keeping her voice pitched for his ears only. Her finger poked into his sweaty chest. He stunk of pussy and her imagination filled in for what had been going on before she walked up. “Don’t you dare play her this way or hurt her.” She ignored the nagging reminder that she had done more harm to Ursa than anyone.
Stupid conscience.
Stupid guilt.
Stupid moral compass.
When had she developed those things? She’d acted no better than Bee and sometimes worse in the past few weeks. She felt wretched.
“Miss,” one of the doormen said in disapproval, “keep your hands to yourself right now.”
Vans snorted and held her hands up, palms showing. “Whatever. You’re doing a real bang-up job keeping people safe. Happy holidays, assholes.” She flipped them off. All of them. From the super troupers in tuxes, to the Bee and Archer. Fuck them all. Then she shouldered by Archer and stomped down the hall in the direction from which the doormen had come.
She walked up another floor and found a quiet spot by a bay window that was empty of people. No one was trying to force anyone or planning their pain there. Was Ursa hurt somewhere? Vans had been part of harming the woman. She was Ursa’s friend, wasn’t she? The past few weeks had been a poisonous whirlwind of jealousy. Ursa had been nothing but nice to her.
Vans’s date was running after some other woman and would likely be busy for the rest of the night. She felt a twisting in her chest at the thought, eyes burning and vision blurring. It was a sex party. What did she expect? Romance? Love? That sort of thing wasn’t in the cards for a girl like her.
Face it, Charles, you fucked up, she told herself.
Her heart was so heavy that her legs didn’t seem strong enough to support her weight. There were two chairs, one on either side of a small table, overlooking the illuminated gardens. Putting her hands over her face, she pushed the mask up. She didn’t feel like hiding anymore. It was time to go home. Through the colorful beams of light, fluffy snowflakes spun and swirled down to earth. The shadowy landscape was coated in white.
She crumpled into one of the plush seats, crossing her arms over her chest. The token was gone. The vivid memory of Bee ripping it off replayed through her mind.
As she watched the beautiful snow, she broke into tears and curled into the chair as much as she could with the uncomfortable corset. Despite the awkwardness, as the grief faded, she drifted to sleep.
* * * * *
Vans was startled awake when a warm hand closed over her shoulder. She came to full wakefulness swinging. Her knuckles slammed into something solid and a grunt of pain rewarded her efforts.
“Whoa! Easy, your highness!” Dreams and panic melted away and memories fluttered like the snowflakes beyond the window. Dragon, cowboy, chauffeur, lady’s man. She hated how the reference to royalty made her think of the Queen Bee’s actions. She was both relieved and furious to see him.
“Stop calling me that. Leave me alone.” She jerked to her feet, her mask clattering to the floor at her feet, and faced off with him. He was still wearing his mask but she could see from the set of his mouth and the gleam in his eyes that he was pissed. “What’s wrong? Did she give you blue balls?”
“What? Hell no! I have been searching for you! Why didn’t you stay like I told you? I was worried something had happened.”
“Because I don’t do well getting bossed around while my date goes chasing tail. Worried something might happen to me? Like I might get raped at this consensual party? Yeah, real nice bunch of friends you keep.”
His jaw flexed and the blue of his eyes seemed to glow in the dim light of the alcove. “I was trying to help my friends. I’m sorry I wasn’t able to satisfy you or explain before I left, but it was important. His lady was hurt and someone stole her mask. That is who I went after—the woman in the owl mask. No one would dare put a hand on you with my—” He noticed her lack of token and the torn leather on the sleeve of the bodice. Then he focused on what she assumed must be the horrible, tearful mess of her face. The look of fury that blazed in his eyes left her breathless. “Are you all right? Did anyone—”
“I’m fine.”
He reached for her, cupping her face. He smoothed his thumbs down her cheeks and all hope that he wouldn’t notice the tears died as his lips went white.
“Sweetheart.” He said it with such emotion that she felt a twisting pang in her ribs and lifted her hands to cover his.
“Don’t,” she warned him, closing her eyes. She couldn’t stand the laser focus of his gaze right now.
“Tell me what happened,” he demanded, but his voice remained soft as he eased into the seat, pulling her with him.
“You don’t want to know. Fuck. I fucked up. This is all so fucked up.” She wasn’t sure just what to say. She trembled against his chest as he tucked her into his lap. He didn’t smell like sex. Instead, he smelled of leather. His scent was pure warmth mingled with cloves, like the taste of his kisses.
“I want to know everything.”
Her throat tight, she hesitated, but he stroke
d her hair until she began talking. She told him about Leo and her unexpected jealousy. She admitted to foiling Ursa’s flower deliveries. She confessed the lies she’d told and the attempts she’d made to ruin things between the pair. She explained the scene in the foyer before he’d arrived and told him about coming up the steps to discover Leo and Queen Bee. She ended on how her token was ripped off before the doormen stormed in to mop up the mess. Her tears left her weak and broken. Why was she telling this stranger all of that?
He listened to everything, smoothing his hand through her hair while sitting very still. “I know about the flowers,” he said softly and his arm squeezed around her. His cheek pressed against the crown of her head and he blew out a breath and the tightness eased from him. “I am very good friends with the man you call Archer. I also know his lady. He mentioned how she never said anything about the very elaborate rose arrangements he’d been sending to her work. Blushing Opals is the color of those particular extra-long stems. Or so he claims. I know he calls her princess. I know he adores her more than sunshine and oxygen. And…I know a particular clerk at the store was upset over him.”
“You were playing me?” she asked, her grief still so heavy the shock did not reach the anger register in her reaction.
“No. I came by on my way from a job site and happened on you. I saw those particular exquisite pink flowers being stomped to a pulp by you.” His big hands smoothed along her hip, squeezing to still her from saying anything more as he continued. “I didn’t intend to do more than flirt with you. But you have such fire and attitude. I have been drawn in despite myself. Just now, I expected you to lie to me but—”
She gnawed at her knuckle as she bowed her head. “I have no reason to lie. I’ve been a complete cunt lately. I…I’m not used to—”
“Not being the center of attention? Yes, I noticed that,” he murmured against her temple, hands stroking along her leg to squeeze her outer thigh, rolling his thumb against her flesh. “You’re also jealous and manipulative and selfish.”
Taming the Brat (Forbidden Secrets) Page 4
