Drusilla Tallow sank against the cold stone of the wall, useless tears marking pale tracks down her dirty and bruised cheeks.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Dressing for Donatien
Middy was reminded of Tally as she charmed on the outfit that she was going to wear to Donatien. She wished that Tally were here. Tally would charm that leather up her thighs in no time! She missed the other witch and had a horrible feeling that something had happened to her.
She hadn’t seen Tally since that night in the library and she wondered where her friend had gotten off to. Middy brushed off the feeling. She was just hurt that Tally hadn’t confided in her. She was probably wrapped up with Martin and they were having a wonderful time. For Middy, that was the more acceptable answer than thinking that Tally was in trouble.
Even though, as far as she or Dred could tell, Tally had been the last one to see Tristan Belledare alive.
Merlin damn these vinyl pants! They were stuck on her hips. She knew that they fit, but they were supposed to stretch.
“Stop taking my name in vain,” a disembodied voice echoed through the dressing room.
“Then fix these pants!” Middy growled, frustrated.
“Maybe a size bigger—”
“These are my size, damn it.”
“Maybe your size isn’t your size in these pants.”
“Look here, if I die tonight, the tag in my pants will not read the next size up. I am not Chubby Cherrywood anymore. Fix. The. Pants.”
“I always thought you had a rather nice figure.”
“I do now.” Middy continued to tug on the pants.
“A bit on the skinny side for my taste,” the voice continued.
“Me? Skinny? I’m insulted.”
“Hourglasses are pretty, but I like apples. Pear shapes have their advantages, too.”
“Merlin?”
“Yes?”
“Can we stop debating the shape of my ass and cover it in vinyl?”
“I guess.”
And the pants fit as if they’d been made for her.
“I told you these were my size,” Middy grumbled.
She emerged from the dressing room and caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Okay, so it was more than a glimpse. There were three mirrors and a stage to stand on to get the full effect of the outfit.
The leather-look pants clung like a second skin to her every curve. The “fetish boots,” as the clerk had called them, laced up to her knees and the purple-and-black corset left little to the imagination. Middy was sure that she could stash a grenade in her cleavage and no one would be the wiser. If she got tired, her ample breasts were so high under her chin that she could rest her head on them like a chicken tucking its head under a wing.
She pulled the half mask over her eyes and decided that she looked like an x-rated superhero. Leaping tall dildos in a single bound, but she’d look damned good doing it.
Middy reached over and grabbed the tactical belt that hung on the chair and secured it around her waist. At first glance, they all looked like sex toys. If anyone saw her on the street, he might think she was some sort of nymphomaniac gunslinger. She could see herself quick on the draw with cocks in each holster.
Her imagination was certainly running wild tonight. She was thankful for the mask so the other patrons wouldn’t see her cheeks flame.
Dred’s costume did nothing to quiet her fevered brain either.
He stepped from his dressing room, tall and confident, with that devil smirk on his lips. Sweet, sweet, Merlin.
If he answered her, Merlin that is, right at this moment, there would be certain hell to pay.
Dred was wearing leather pants, too. He had what she liked to call pillaging thighs. His build harkened back to his ancestors, those demons of the north that came down from the land of the midnight sun to spread their seed and increase their wealth.
Middy had never seen a man so solidly built, with his hard thighs, sculpted calves, and an ass that was made to be slapped. She was sure that she could bounce a quarter off of his glutes. Her fingers itched to try.
Until the studded belt he wore distracted her. The buckle was made of silver and she couldn’t even describe what the shape was because it served as a neon light for his goods.
The way the belt hung on his hips, she could see the finely crafted lines of that triumvirate of manhood that drew the eye straight down to his cock.
She forced her eyes up and it was like pulling melted gum off of a brick wall. Her gaze seemed to get stuck in places, like the light sprinkling of golden hair around his navel. Then it was the particular demarcation between his abdominals and his pectorals. Middy was especially entranced by the Atlas-width of his shoulders and that tender place between his shoulder and his bicep. Around his neck was a leather collar that came with a thick nylon leash. It should be a high crime for that warlock to ever wear a shirt. She found, though, that she was looking for his scars.
She needed to see them. They were what made him real to her.
No one would ever know what this man had sacrificed for them. What twisted her insides was that Dred was okay with that. He didn’t need a medal or an honor, and he didn’t want it. Instead, he bore the whispers and the slander without complaint.
It made her wonder what he thought he needed to atone for.
He placed the leash in her hand and raised a brow. “What is your demand, Mistress?”
“Stop it.”
Dred grinned, flashing his charmed teeth. “Stop what?”
“Stop trying to make me wet.”
“Is it working?”
“You know perfectly well that it is.” Middy scowled.
“Then why are you scowling?”
“My muffin and vinyl don’t mix. You won’t be putting your chip in this bean dip for at least a week if you make me any hotter.”
“We should pick up a miconazole potion on the way, then. I’m nowhere near done enjoying you in that getup.”
He looked her up and down with a licentious grin. “I know for a fact you’ll enjoy this leash play. Won’t you, Midnight?”
“I’m the one in charge here,” Midnight said as she snapped the leash like a whip.
Of course, she had to cross her legs after she did it, otherwise she’d stick to the next place she sat down like an in-dustrial suction cup.
“Good. You need to stay in character. No matter what happens.” He closed the distance between them and knelt in front of her and licked up the calf of her boot. “Even in submission to you, Midnight, I’m still in control. I’ll still make you come.”
She found herself nodding. He could say that he was the Muffin Overlord from the Great Snatch Revolt of 1763 and she’d have nodded happily.
“I don’t want you to forget.” Dred’s mouth was now on the vinyl that was currently hugging the inside of her thigh.
Right there, in the fetish shop dressing room where anyone could see!
She was tempted to throw her thigh up on his shoulder and demand satisfaction. Sure, there’d be a potion in her future, but wasn’t there always?
Midnight jerked on the leash (it was a mistake, letting her have that) to draw him closer. “You can make me come? Do it.”
“Midnight, I—”
“I said now!” Middy jerked the leash again.
He bent his blond head and ran his tongue down the seam of the vinyl between her legs. He lifted her right leg to give him better access and balanced it on his shoulder, just as she’d imagined. His fingers were splayed on her thigh to hold her steady.
She turned her head and she could see them both reflected in the mirror. Middy found this to be embarrassing and exciting at the same time. She was entranced by the look on Dred’s face as he did as she demanded.
His eyes were closed, his lashes like snowflakes on his cheeks. There was a look of pleasure on his face; this wasn’t mechanical for him. For some reason, it surprised her. She’d always thought that his seductions were planned.
He always knew what to say, what to do. But tonight he wanted to please her. She didn’t know if it was just the challenge of the single orgasm, or something more.
The light sensation of his tongue through the vinyl was a delicious tease, but it wouldn’t make her come. She was torn between telling him what she wanted and challenging him to do more.
“Don’t do it!” Merlin’s voice interrupted.
Middy shrieked and if not for Dred’s hands on her, she would have flown backwards into the mirrors.
“Dirty old man,” Dred muttered.
“All Seeing has its rewards, you know. It took forever to charm her adorable ass into those pants—don’t you dare charm her out of them.”
“I’m never having sex again. He’s worse than Santa. Sees me when I’m sleeping. Knows when I’m awake. Knows when I want to ride my husband like a pony.”
Oh, what the fuck was that? How had that horrible word escaped her mouth? Not the pony part, though she couldn’t quite believe that gem had slipped past her lips un-censored. He was the Bigger Boss, after all. No, it had been the word husband. As if they were already married.
Maybe Dred wouldn’t notice.
Nope. Too late. At least, that was what she gathered from the insanely superior smirk on his face.
“Baby, if he’s watching, he deserves what he gets.”
“Can I have my leg back?” Middy asked.
“Only if you say ‘Now!’ ”
“Now!”
Dred dropped her leg and was on his feet in one fluid motion. When Middy watched him move, she felt like she was watching Big Cat Diary on Animal Planet. She loved how smooth every articulation of muscle and tendon seemed to be—how every movement was silent and like a dance between the man and the space around him.
“I find I quite like this. Perhaps I was wrong to have ex-cluded domination from the centerfold’s programming.”
“No, you were right to do so. It would give your enemies power to be able to watch you do these things. It would take away much of the awe that your presence inspires.”
“Awe? Are you in awe, Midnight, dearest?” he tossed lightly.
“You know I am,” she said without looking up.
“Don’t forget, you can’t break character,” he said as he adjusted himself.
Middy’s gaze followed the motion of his hands. “That’s going to be hard to hide.”
“Why bother? It’s a sex club.”
“You really want an answer to that?” Middy asked.
“Sure, why not?”
“It’s going to distract me and we’ll get nothing done.”
“Is that a threat or a promise?” Dred brushed the pad of his thumb over her lips.
“Just a fact.”
“If that’s the case, they we’ll just have to keep coming until we get it right.” He traced his index finger down the side of her cheek to the valley of her breasts.
“What are you, fourteen?” Middy tried to sound unimpressed. If she’d managed to get rid of the “fuck me now” breathless quality to her voice, it would have helped con-siderably.
“If I was fourteen, I sure as hell wouldn’t know how to handle you, Middy.” His hand was on her ass now, as if to demonstrate exactly what his “handling” skills happened to entail. “We really need to get this act on the road.”
“Oh, does depravity have a closing time?”
“No, but I have to check in with my mother. She thinks we’re scouting out locations for the ceremony.”
“Well, what are you going to tell her?”
“The location? I thought you wanted to do the Eiffel Tower thing.”
“I was being facetious.” Middy rolled her eyes.
“What do you want to do?”
“You’re talking like we’re really doing this.”
Dred palmed his forehead. “Balls, woman! I thought we had this conversation. Yes, you’re marrying me. Remember the whole losing our magick clause? Yeah.”
“I don’t want to.” Middy pursed her lips into a pout.
“You just called me your husband not ten minutes ago. You want to.”
“No, I really don’t. You don’t love me.”
“Fine, I love you. Can we get on with this?”
Her foot just happened to be on a spring-loaded hinge that had a hair trigger; that trigger being a false declaration that insulted both of them. If he hadn’t been paying attention, she would have nailed him right in the stones with her stiletto heel.
“First, you want the Grand Confession. I give it to you and you kick me. I don’t understand you.”
“You have to mean it.”
“I did mean that I don’t understand you.”
“The love part, asshat.”
“Yes, I will wear your ass for a hat. A proper bowler with a feather. Can we get down to business?”
She would have called him a douche, but she was sure he’d find some vulgar comeback that would leave her irritated further. Middy found relief when she realized that she still held the leash in her hand. She snapped it twice.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Drudgery in Donatien
For those wishing a discreet experience, Club Donatien was anathema. Middy’s thoughts on the subject were a bit less refined. She thought it looked like Hell if they’d gotten the right publicist.
It smelled like a whorehouse.
Not that she’d ever sniffed a whorehouse, but the scent of heavy, cloying perfume wafted from the doors. Perhaps it was incense? Whatever it was, it turned her stomach in three different directions at once.
There were two great, white pillars that marked the doorway and flames shot out of the tops every fifteen minutes. She realized that the pillars looked like cocks. So, the fire was supposed to be . . . Eww.
The bouncers were particularly scary. They were both bald, all over. Not a bit of hair to be seen on either of them.
They wore masks with zippers for the mouths and cock corsets that were attached to thin mesh clubbing shirts. It was a strange sight, to be sure.
They opened the doors and revealed the inside of the club as Dred slipped a hundred into one of the bouncers’ hands. Where he was going to put it, Middy didn’t want to know.
The walls were covered in plush, red velvet and they were led down a long and twisting hallway that opened up into a great room full of sights and sounds that Middy could have gone her whole life without seeing.
It bothered her somewhat that Dred was not only un-fazed, but that the waitstaff seemed to know him. There was a woman that Middy was sure she’d seen before. In fact, Midnight was sure it was the same woman that she’d seen making out with Middy herself in Dred’s fantasy.
Middy could have gone the rest of her life without seeing—well, that was a lie. Considering all the women he’d been with, she figured there was no way she’d go the rest of her life without seeing someone he’d had sex with.
“Hi,” the waitress said, addressing Middy in a voice that was way too happy. “We’re practically sisters.”
“How’s that?” Middy gave her a surly look.
“We’ve both fucked Dred. I do hope we can be close.”
She smiled and ran her hand down Middy’s arm.
“Then you’d have to be close to the entire female population of the world. Perhaps even the universe.”
“Oh, I wish,” she sighed dreamily.
“I was an experiment.” Dred shrugged.
“Would you like to experiment?” the woman asked.
“Maybe another time,” Middy said, trying not to blush.
“Oh,” the waitress pouted. “Can I get you two anything to drink? A dance with the Green Fairy?”
“Does it have real fairies in it?” Middy asked, completely serious.
“She is so cute!” The waitress slapped Dred’s arm playfully and sauntered off, shaking her ass as she went.
“Well, does it?” Middy asked again.
“No, it’s absinthe. They call it the Green Fairy. Th
at’s like asking if they make Girl Scout cookies out of real Girl Scouts.”
“Don’t they?”
“She seems to like you. Maybe you should ‘torture her’ to get her to talk.” Dred raised a brow. “What did I tell you?”
“Hey, you can’t blame a guy for trying.”
“Don’t try again,” Middy warned.
“Can I think about it?”
“Trying or the . . .” Dred winked.
He looked like sex on a stick when he did that. “I have no control over what you think about,” she said repres-sively.
If she was being honest with herself, she’d admit that she loved the idea of him fantasizing about her, no matter what he pictured her doing. It was the fact that she occupied his thoughts when she wasn’t around.
“Would you like to?” he asked in a silky tone.
For all of her need for control, she didn’t want that. “No. If I did, I might as well go back to fucking myself.”
“No one said you had to stop. I’d like to watch.”
“You did watch!” Middy’s voice was a harsh whisper.
“It was beautiful,” Dred said as he leaned in against her so that his voice was just in her ear.
She didn’t know how he managed it, but this felt intimate. Even though they were here with all of these people, he was talking about something that was just theirs.
“I want to do it again. I want us to watch each other,” he said and pressed his lips to the soft pulse at her throat.
“What are you doing? We’re supposed to be gathering information,” Middy whispered.
“We are. Remember when I asked you about trust? This is where you trust me. People are watching. Some are magickal, some are not. Your arousal must be real.”
Dred took the lead, though it looked as if she chose their course as he was still on the leash. They made their way to a divan that was partially surrounded by curtains, but afforded a view to the sexual melee going on around them.
Their absinthe arrived via seemingly invisible hands and Dred took a drink and rose up on his knees so that he was above Middy on the divan. She was still clutching the leash like it was a lifeline, but she knew that ship had sailed a good hour ago.
He kissed her, careful to keep his hands at his sides, but used his mouth like a chalice to feed her small sips of absinthe. It was an intimate act that went beyond the erotic and sent tremors through her body.
How to Marry a Warlock in 10 Days Page 19
