Black Light: Roulette Rematch (Black Light Series Book 20)

by Livia Grant

  Heat curled inside her, even as her shame grew.

  Damn. Maybe this wasn’t going to be so disappointing after all.

  Chapter 10

  Orlando

  The pretty blue jewel winked between Juliet’s welted cheeks, catching the light as she crawled across Black Light’s carpet. Little bells hung from the loop in the middle of the jewel, where the chain was attached, making a delicate jingling noise with her every movement. The thin silver chain between the little leather strap he was holding and the base of the plug was more for decoration than anything else, but it was serving its purpose.

  While she might pretend she didn’t mind—even though Orlando couldn’t see her face—he could see the way her shoulders hunched in, how her head lifted up, then back down, as if she both wanted to see who was looking at her and couldn’t bear to know. From his position, he could also see how wet her pussy was and not just from their previous scene. There was no way her arousal stemmed solely from that.

  He didn’t bother to hide his grin. The disappointment in her final roll had been clear in her expression. She didn’t expect he would be able to make their final scene live up to either of the other two.

  Challenge fucking accepted.

  Thankfully, he’d remembered the plug he’d seen used once when he was at Black Light East and had asked the Dungeon Monitor if they had any available among the toys here. This was just the beginning, though.

  They went through the curtain, and Juliet jerked to a stop as they were met with whistles and cheers. It took Orlando a moment to realize all the noise wasn’t actually coming from the main play area—nor was it for them—it was coming from the hallway. Whatever was going on in the Red Light District must be particularly nasty for it to get that reaction.

  Grinning, Orlando mentally wished the participants well as he looked around the room to see what was available.

  Ah. Perfect.

  He grinned wickedly.

  “Up on stage, Juliet.” He tugged the leash, enough the plug would press against her opening from the inside, but nothing more. The last thing he wanted was to accidentally yank it out of her—not only could that potentially harm her, but with his luck, it would end up flying and hitting him in the head. The humiliation was supposed to be for her, not him.

  A little shiver went down her spine, and she headed for Black Light’s main stage. Everyone in the room would be able to see her once they were up there. They were already drawing quite a bit of attention, even with other scenes going on. After all, only so many people could get a good view of each of the platforms, and the hall to the Red Light District looked pretty crowded.

  The stage, however, was completely empty.

  Once they were in the center with Juliet still on her hands and knees, very carefully not looking into the crowd, Orlando took a moment to contemplate the situation. Then he looked over the eager watchers.

  “Can someone pass me a barstool?”

  Juliet

  Who knew Orlando would be so good at embarrassing someone?

  The plug hadn’t bothered her, in and of itself, but the leash had added an unexpected element that had gotten under her skin. So had the bells. By the time they were on the stage, everyone watching her crawl—the chain visibly trailing behind her up to Orlando’s hand, the bells louder than before as the sound bounced off the stage’s acoustics—she felt as if her entire face was on fire from her blush.

  Then Orlando had requested—and gotten—a barstool and made her stand behind it with her hands on the seat, facing out into Black Light’s club. There were lights on the stage, but unfortunately, they weren’t bright enough to blind her. She could see the face and expression of every single person who was staring back at her.

  Orlando gave the leash a little tug, and her ass clenched automatically around the plug. If it dropped out of her right now…

  Maybe she was a little easier to embarrass than she’d realized.

  It was also far hotter than she’d anticipated. Her pussy was literally creaming, her exhibitionist side enjoying everyone seeing her erotic embarrassment. The more Orlando made her blush, the hornier she got.

  Letting the leash drop from his hand, Orlando came up to Juliet’s side while the chain swung between her legs. Gravity gently tugged on the plug, and she tightened her grip even more. It was oddly arousing to have the chain swinging, rhythmically pulling on the plug.

  One of Orlando’s arms went around her back, his hands reaching for and gripping her breasts, the touch was gentle on the globes until he reached her nipples. Juliet moaned when he pinched her buds nice and hard. Pleasure shot through her, straight down to her pussy.

  “Open your eyes, Juliet.”

  She did and looked into the crowd that was gathering around the stage. Their anticipation practically hummed, feeding into her own and heightening her senses. Not everyone in the room was paying attention to them—there were other scenes going on—but they’d already gathered a substantial crowd. Brooke was there, practically bouncing on her toes, wide-eyed and waiting for whatever was going to happen next. Juliet met her friend’s gaze, then looked away.

  Orlando’s voice raised slightly. There wasn’t a microphone, so his voice didn’t fill the room or disturb the other scenes but was loud enough to be heard by the crowd in front of their stage.

  “Tell them how you know me, Juliet,” he ordered.

  She froze.

  Her eyes met Brooke’s again. Brooke had her hand clapped over her mouth, eyes wide with shock, reflecting Juliet’s feelings at Orlando’s demand. Out of everyone in the crowd, Brooke was the only one who knew Orlando was Juliet’s stepbrother.

  A hard pinch to her nipples, a vicious twist, left her whimpering.

  “Tell them how you know me, sub.”

  Fuck.

  Humiliation.

  “He’s…” Her voice came out as a breathy whisper. Juliet licked her dry lips. “He’s my stepbrother.”

  Only a few eyes widened. Not many people had been able to hear her soft confession, but those who did, reacted. Shame swept over her, followed by a wave of heat at her shame being witnessed.

  “Louder.” Orlando’s fingers left her nipples, and he slapped the side of her breast. It hurt so much more than usual, and she realized, after a moment, it must be because of the little slices to her skin he’d made only a couple of hours ago. “Tell them how you know me, Juliet.”

  “He’s my stepbrother!” Fuck it. She’d already said it once, might as well yell it and get it over with. She closed her eyes against the surprise that rippled through their audience.

  “And what do you want your stepbrother to do, Juliet?” Orlando’s hand rested on top of her back and slid down, his fingers dipping into the crevice of her ass, finding the chain to her plug and tugging lightly. The bells jingled.

  Humiliation.

  Arousal.

  Shame.

  Need.

  Craving.

  “I want you to fuck my ass.” Not as quiet as she’d been at first, but not as loud as she’d announced their relationship.

  Fuck.

  This was so much harder and so much hotter than pretending to be his student. They weren’t Miss Kaplan and Professor Romeo right now. They were just themselves, Orlando and Juliet. Stepbrother and stepsister.

  And he was going to fuck her ass.

  The plug was pulled out.

  The rubbery tip of a condom-covered cock, well-lubed, pressed against the opening of her ass.

  The braids on either side of her head were lifted and pulled back, so he could use them like reins. Her head lifted as well, scalp tingling, and she whimpered.

  “Say it again.”

  “I want you to fuck my ass, Orlando.”

  He pressed in. Slowly. Letting her feel every centimeter as her ass was stretched open around the mushroom head of his cock until it popped inside of her. The tight ring of muscle clenched around his shaft, just under the head, automatically trying to squeeze him out.r />
  “Say ‘I want my stepbrother to fuck my ass.’”

  Her pussy fluttered.

  “I want my stepbrother to fuck my ass.”

  Another inch slid in, accompanied by a slap to her welted bottom.

  “Open your eyes. Tell them.”

  Juliet obeyed, opening her eyes. With his firm grip on her braids, she was staring directly into the audience and saw all the faces staring back at her—surprise, awe, and the same heat she was feeling. Curiosity. Wonder. Lust. A few judgmental expressions, though they didn’t look away from the display she and Orlando were making—all added to the perversely exciting degradation.

  “I want my stepbrother to fuck my ass!”

  She squealed as Orlando drove home, rocking her forward, her hands braced against the seat of the bar stool. His thick cock stretched her wide, burning as hot as the shame curling through her.

  No longer gentle, Orlando rode her ass with rough, hard thrusts, making her push back against them or risk being knocked forward. Her breasts swung underneath her, bouncing wildly as he plowed into her from behind. The empty spasms of her pussy didn’t stop her ecstasy from growing.

  Orlando was fucking her ass.

  Her stepbrother was fucking her ass hard.

  After making her admit, to everyone watching, that’s who he was.

  She didn’t need a hand on her clit or a dick in her pussy. The combination of shame, burning stretch, slick thrusts, and his cock hitting a deep point inside her was sending her reeling.

  “Fuck!”

  “That’s right, Juliet.” Orlando’s voice rang out loudly and heated, his hand tugging her braids more firmly, pulling her back against him. “Come for me. Come all over your stepbrother’s cock.”

  She did.

  Screaming, shuddering, her knees almost gave out—she would have dropped if Orlando hadn’t caught her, his arm curving under her stomach and holding her in place as he thrust hard one last time. His groans mingled with her cries, and when he reached between her legs to pinch her clit, sending her on another paroxysm of ecstasy, she finally sank down to the stage.

  He went with her, letting her settle on his lap, cock still firmly lodged up her ass as their audience applauded.

  Orlando

  It was eleven, and Roulette was over, but Orlando still held Juliet on his lap. Damn. Even Cinderella had until midnight. How had the time passed so quickly? His arms tightened around her, not wanting to let go.

  “Orlando?” Her voice was small… worried.

  Loosening his grip just enough so he could look down at her, he met her serious gaze.

  “What are we going to do now?” She sounded a little lost, nothing like the confident woman he knew her to be. Hell, he couldn’t remember her ever looking to anyone else for answers, much less him.

  He sighed. That was the question, wasn’t it?

  “We’ll figure it out.” That was the best answer he had, one he believed. No matter what life had thrown at him, he’d always figured it out, and this would be no different.

  “So… this isn’t just for tonight?” she asked, her fingers trailing over his chest.

  “Not if we don’t want it to be,” he answered softly.

  Nodding, Juliet snuggled into him, her head resting on his chest. Orlando let his cheek fall onto the top of her head and held her close.

  All the animosity, all the sniping had melted away now that they’d finally admitted and accepted the truth—they wanted each other.

  They always had.

  THE END

  About the Author

  Sinistre Ange is the alter ego of USA Today Bestselling Author Golden Angel and explores some of the more taboo and darker sides of romance and erotica.

  Come to the dark side... we have cookies.

  Want to know more about my other books and stories? Visit me at www.sinistreange.com or sign up for my newsletter at https://smarturl.it/SinistreNewsletter

  Also by Sinistre Ange

  DubCon / Consenting NonCon Books

  Dark Tales

  Annie and the Sybian

  The Planets Apart Series

  His Favorite Hucow

  Amaya’s Old-Fashioned Daddy

  His Pretty Kitty

  Taboo Kinks

  Consequences: A Taboo Stepfamily Story Part 1

  Consequences: A Taboo Stepfamily Story Part 2

  Dominated by the Bull

  Erotica

  Alien Pleasures

  Horror Erotica

  Happily Never After series with Raisa Greywood

  Demon Lust

  Blood Lust

  Roulette Rematch: Conclusion

  by Jennifer Bene & Livia Grant

  The Afterparty

  Elijah

  Black Light West

  February 14th, 11:09pm

  Elijah groaned while finally collapsing into one of the chairs in the bar. He’d been on his feet for what seemed like the last twenty-four hours straight. His knees cracked. His back creaked. His feet ached.

  Shit, it sucks to get old.

  As beat up as he felt physically, a whoosh of relief accompanied the wave of exhaustion threatening to take over. He still had way too much work to do before he could truly relax.

  Glancing around the emptying club, he was finally able to take a deep breath. They’d had a great night, and as anxious as he was to learn the outcome of the wager he had going with Spencer Cook, Elijah knew nothing could really detract from how successful Valentine Roulette had been for the West Coast team.

  My team.

  As the overhead lights came up and the music died down, he took a good look around at the over dozen team members busy putting the club back together again after the hard night of play.

  “Hey, whatcha doing sitting on your ass? We have work to do!” His second in command, Tyler, shouted from across the bar as he carried a banquet table toward the storage closest in the office.

  Elijah was too tired to argue, letting his middle finger do the talking for him.

  “I know just the thing to perk you up, old man,” came an offer from behind the long bar.

  Too exhausted to get up to check it out, Elijah managed to shuffle his chair around enough to find Shane Covington playing bartender.

  “By all means, Covington. Just help yourself to the top shelf booze. I notice you’re only bartending now when you can pilfer booze while Susie is too busy to notice,” Elijah groused.

  The A-list actor shot Elijah that million-dollar smile he’d gotten famous for before countering, “I have to do something to keep myself entertained until Nalani is finished helping with the clean-up. You should be happy she’s so dedicated that she wanted to stay and help, considering she doesn’t even work here anymore.”

  “I never asked her to help and you know it,” Elijah defended. “She’s been off the payroll going on two years now.”

  Finally sitting in the chair next to him, Shane slid a rocks glass in front of him before putting his feet up on the empty chair across from Elijah.

  “By all means, make yourself at home,” he deadpanned.

  “Don’t mind if I do. After living here in the mansion for over six months, I admit it does sorta feel like home. Even if we haven’t been able to come to play as often as I’d like,” Shane observed.

  Elijah caught a glimpse of Nalani helping put the theater back together again before reasserting, “Why is she wiping down the portable chairs? They’re just going to get stored in the closet until the next big event anyway.”

  Shane took a long drag of the cocktail in front of him before answering. “I gave up trying to stop her from doing cleanup around the house a long time ago. More than once I’ve had to reassure my longtime housekeeper, Judy, that we don’t intend to fire her after she’s walked in on Nalani re-cleaning something Judy had just cleaned.”

  Knowing the previous housekeeper as well as he did, Elijah knew better than to try to talk her into stopping, instead offering advice. “It’s her coping mech
anism. When she gets nervous, she likes to clean. It calms her.”

  Shane sat quietly for a few seconds before calling out, “Bullshit. She was just cleaning today. What the hell did she have to be nervous about?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe having to go out into public with one of the most famous men on the planet? Perhaps knowing she’d have to spend the night trying to fend off all the women who like to throw themselves at you?”

  Shane chuckled. “Normally I’d tell you that you’re full of shit, but there was some chick in a black and red bustier tonight that kept following me around, trying to chat me up. She finally backed off after I had Nalani suck me off while watching the pirate guy fucking his chick like a boss at the whipping post.”

  Elijah bristled at his friend’s crude comment. He’d always had a soft spot for Nalani, thinking of her like the baby sister he never had. He may be a Dungeon Master, but like most brothers, he didn’t want to hear about the details of his chosen-sister’s kinky sex life.

  He was saved from having to comment by one of the last remaining Roulette couples coming out of the co-ed locker room across the way.

  Fuck, I thought all of the members were gone already.

  Landon Bartlett, pro NFL linebacker, detoured toward Elijah’s table. His submissive for the night, McKenna, was still with him—her deep red hair hanging wet down her back after obviously showering with her Dom.

  “Just wanted to let you know what a great time we had tonight, Keaton. I know I don’t make it down here to Black Light as often as I’d like, especially during the season.” The football player paused, throwing his hand out for a shake before adding, “But tonight reminded me why being a member is worth every penny.”