“Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to look back?” The intimidating voice growled against my ear, sending a shockwave of heat skittering across my body. I jerked my head forward. I knew that, honestly I did. When I first started working at Rapture they would throw me up on stage just to see how I would do, knowing nothing of the song or anything else. I learned the only way to react was to act as if everything was new, and yet planned all at once—respond like a practiced sex kitten crawling into bed with a new lover, hungry for his cock.
“That’s better.” He chuckled and leaned back. His hands were tight around my oiled arms.
I wore only my sparkling top and g-string. Victor was the one who always undressed me the rest of the way.
Is this man going to?
My pussy throbbed at the thought, drowning my already sopping g-string. His hot hands slid down my arms. I didn’t look at them, but kept my eyes on the crowd. I tried to focus on their hungry gazes, tried to keep myself centered, like always. I could lose myself in the music, but when I did duo performances I worked hard to keep my focus intact, going over a continual checklist of things to be conscious of. My face had to be an endless mask of sex. My lips had to pout, my eyes had to beg for more. My body had to ooze waves of appeal that made men’s cocks hard and women’s cunts drip.
I had to be all of it at once. I couldn’t be rigid or make a squalid face. It was harder to keep in place while working with someone, though Victor and I had mastered everything. I could anticipate his every move, even when he would fuck me at the Rapture X party. But now, I had no idea what to expect. I didn’t even know what this stranger looked like. What is he going to do to me? My body tingled in unexpected anticipation.
Just as his hands reached my wrists, he released one. I felt bereft at the loss of contact. This was the only place he touched me. I could feel the heat of his chest, but he hovered inches away. I considered leaning backward, pressing my body into his. Just as I was about to, his hand returned to my lonely wrist, only it wasn’t just his hand. A rough material brushed against my skin. The suspense got to me and I broke the code, and glanced down.
I gasped. Tattoos covered the lean hand, but that wasn’t what elicited the reaction. A tan colored rope was in between the palm of his hand and my skin. My lips parted and a shiver prickled along my spine.
“The Jewel of the sea isn’t scared, is she?” His hot breath feathered against my ear just as the slam of drums kicked in. He jerked my slick arms above my head and wrapped the rope around my wrists. The course feel of the material shocked me, and for a moment I knew my face betrayed my surprise before I masked my expression. “Keep your arms where they are.”
The authority in his voice wasn’t lost on me. Part of me wanted to disobey, who the hell was he to tell me what to do? Men didn’t dictate to me. I chose to take my clothes off for money, men didn’t make me.
I was about to jerk them down when my gaze focused on a face in the crowd through the dancing lights. Jimmy’s beady eyes stared back at me from the front row. He wants me to fail. I’d never had anything against Jimmy, though he’d never liked me, not since I refused to suck his cock for a twenty in his office. He’s looking for a reason to try and get rid of me now that Vic is gone. The realization was like a kick in the gut. I kept my arms just where this Ripper guy told me to.
Is that a look of disappointment on Jimmy’s face? Take that, sucker.
“No fight from the Jewel? I’m disappointed,” the Ripper said from behind me. I wanted to jerk around and slap him, and would have if I hadn’t been trying to prove a point.
Muscular arms banded around my waist and lifted me up. A hard chest pressed against me. Material slid against my back. The Ripper is wearing a shirt? Victor always came out shirtless. Well, Victor also didn’t have some sort of sicko serial killer nickname. I was lifted several feet off the ground before coming back down, though I didn’t make it back into my oil pool. The rope binding my wrists caught on something. I glanced up in horror to see a hook that hadn’t been on the pole before. What the fuck? When did that get put in? The arms released me.
The death metal pounded around us just as his hands trailed their way down my curves, only stopping at my backside. I fought back a moan that threatened to escape my lips. Why is he touching me like this? The crowd can’t see. Both hands gripped the thick spheres of my ass. His touch was almost painful. A flood of white hot heat spiraled into my pussy and this time I did moan. He released me as soon as the sound escaped my lips, as if he heard my desperate cry. He couldn’t, not over the music.
“Oh!” A sharp pain shattered across my ass and I realized he’d spanked me. My pussy started throbbing. I arched my back, wiggling my body in an effort to rub my moist folds together. My toes skimmed along the top of the warm oil. What the hell is going on with me? He severed all contact. I expected him to slap me again, but he didn’t. Instead a massive form seemed to materialize in front of me. It’s him. My eyes desperately tried to focus on the huge muscular body, but the florescent lighting made it difficult since he was wearing a black, long sleeve jacket with a hood. His face was shrouded in darkness.
He stood there for a moment, just staring at me, suspended there before him. What is he thinking? I needed to know, was desperate for the answer. What does he look like? As if my questions played across my face he reached up and fingered the edge of his hood with a tattoo-covered hand. After several moments he took his hand away, leaving the material in place. He shook his head once as if to deny the request I hadn’t even made. The crowd can’t even see his face. He’s taunting you. The idea made me furious. Who the hell is this guy? What is really going on?
The Ripper stepped to my side and jerked something from his pocket. Silver flashed before my eyes. A knife. I opened my mouth to scream as fear overwhelmed me, but the knife sliced through the fabric between my tits severing the material completely. My breasts bounced out of the shells as the fabric fell to either side. The crowd moaned in unison, and for a second I thought the Ripper did too. He ran the dull side of his switch-blade between my breasts. I wanted to hate the feeling, be sickened by it, but I wasn’t. The cool metal against my skin only amped up my awareness.
And just as suddenly as it appeared the blade was gone, disappearing back into his black jacket. He stepped up on something next to me. What is he standing on? He must have brought it in the glass bowl with him.
“I’m going to touch you and I want you to dance for me.”
I turned my face to him, ready to tell him that the idea was absurd. How could I dance for him with my arms bound, dangling over a pit of oil?
“Not for them, Julia. For me.”
“How do you know my—”
“For me.” He bit the words out as if they were painful.
He knows my name?
No one called me Julia anymore. Not since I left home.
He grasped the breast closest to him. My sensitive flesh seemed to light up like a firework under his touch. I moaned and writhed my body.
“That’s my girl. Just like that.” He continued to knead my breast and I moved my body. He jerked one of the dangling pieces off my ripped top. Releasing my breast, he used both hands to graze the hard beaded strand down my stomach. What is he doing? I held my breath in anticipation. My gaze fixed firmly on the dark space beneath his hood, forgetting about the crowd in front of us. I could barely make out a nose and lips. When he got to the top of my g-string I sucked in a breath.
Will he take it off me? Will he touch my pussy?
He didn’t do either of those things. He ran the strand of beads between my thighs and reached behind me, pulling the strand in front and behind. The cool beads glided against my oiled skin, slipped between my ass cheeks, and pressed the thin fabric of my panties against my pulsing clitoris.
“Rock your hips.” I barely heard his demand, but I felt his breath against my face, the minty flavor making me desperate for a taste. “Now.”
I shook my head. I wanted to. Goo
d lord, I wanted to rub my clit against those thick beads more than anything, but I didn’t even know what this guy’s face looked like. I wouldn’t come for a stranger. No way. He rubbed the strand back and forth in a quick motion. Pleasure spiraled through me. He nudged my face with his nose forcing my head forward.
His lips pressed hard against my ear. “Rock your hips.”
“Push down your hood.”
A feral sounding growl reverberated against my ear. He jerked the strand back and forth again. An orgasm built in my core. I gritted my teeth fighting the sensation.
“Show me your face,” I panted.
“No.” His voice sounded strained. “You’re going to cum, right now, right here. For me. The Ripper.”
He kept moving the strand back and forth slowly as he spoke. A large round jewel speared my clit over and over. The heavy metal music spiraled around us sucking me into its depths. The red lights flickered over my body. My nipples were so tight they throbbed right along with my pussy. Lost in pleasure I thrashed my hips against the beads, letting instinct take over. His breath came out in hot spurts against my neck, spurring my thrusts.
The hard music was working toward an end, I could feel it in my bones, just as I could feel the orgasm growing at the apex between my thighs.
“Now!” he roared against me.
The orgasm slammed into me like a hammer hitting a nail on the head. It reverberated through my body, just as the guitarist fired into the final riff. Utter ecstasy shattered across my skin. A whoosh of air left my lips, just as the song ended. The Ripper dropped the beads. I watched them fall into the shallow pool of oil below me.
I tried to wiggle my fingers and realized I couldn’t feel them. Total numbness engulfed me from my fingertips to my toes. Utter silence filled the vast room with the absence of music.
“Ladies and gentleman…how about a round of applause for our Jewel and the Ripper!” Artie’s voice sounded strained over the speaker system. A beat of silence followed his words before the crowd erupted in loud hooting and clapping. I stared out at them, stunned that they were all still there, that I was still on stage dangling over a vat of oil.
The crowd cheered harder when the Ripper stepped down from his spot next to me and climbed out of the bowl onto the stage. His bare feet left oil marks on the black floor. In a fluid movement he jerked off the jacket revealing his bare back in low-slung black jeans. He held out both arms, tattoos beginning at his shoulders and snaking down both sides in solid sleeves. Dark hair fell just past his shoulders.
In a quick movement he twisted on the spot, facing me. Ropes of chiseled muscle met my hungry gaze. A smooth chest, bare of tattoos. I let my eyes travel upward until the Ripper’s spell-binding face met my eyes. High cheekbones gave way to firm lips and an angular jaw with the shadow of a day’s growth of hair. Dark eyes stared up at me. A cold expression of hatred was painted across that perfect face.
And then he turned away, heading for the stage exit. He left me there, hanging from a hook on pole, dangling over gallons of oil, while the crowd went utterly wild.
Three.
“Cinna said it was the hottest thing she’d seen in her whole fucking life, Jewel, and she’s watched us fuck,” Victor said. “That’s seriously saying something.”
I rolled my eyes and stared up at my living room ceiling.
“It wasn’t like that, Vic, seriously. I don’t see why she made it out to be such a big deal,” I muttered into the phone, glad that he wasn’t around to see my face, which was burning with embarrassment.
I hadn’t even made it all the way home from Rapture when my best friend started calling me. I didn’t answer the first few times. I knew what he was going to say. I knew someone had called him and told him about how I fucked a piece of my own shirt and came all over myself. He didn’t even use his hands. A shudder traced down my body at the memory.
“It is a huge deal, I”—a voice in the background cut him off—“yeah, even Chris got a call from Azelle. Azelle, Jewel, fucking Azelle who has never given two shits about you. She called and was excited to share the news. So, what does that tell you?”
I sighed and ran my hand over Weasley’s head, my orange tabby cat, who was curled up next to me on the couch. An episode of Catfish was muted on the wall-mounted TV.
“I don’t know, Vic, okay? I have no idea what it was, but it didn’t feel like anything special to me.” Liar.
“Uh huh. Sure. Whatever you say. Was he hot at least?” Is he hot? I almost scoffed at the question. He was more than hot, he was—I shut my thoughts down. I wasn’t going to go there. No way. The look he gave me after it was over left an eerie feeling sitting in my gut. Like he’d done it all for some sort of sick purpose that I was unaware of. I hadn’t seen him after the show either. Not that I was looking for him. I’d avoided everyone out of pure embarrassment, which didn’t make sense, right? I’d been fucking my best friend in front of a crowd every month for the last two years. Hundreds of thousands of strangers had seen my naked body. Lots of them had watched me take Vic’s cock into my hungry pussy and yet I felt strangely shamed that the packed club had watched me in such a private moment.
“He was hired on at Rapture. What do you think?”
Victor snorted. “Mmm-hmm. Avoid the question. Fine. I gotta go anyway. But don’t think there’s any chance I’m dropping this. I have an interview at eight in the morning.”
I glanced at the clock. Three a.m. “What the hell? It’s three here, that means it’s four there!”
“I couldn’t go to bed until I heard from you on how the night went. I was worried about you.” A voice sounded on the other end of the phone that I couldn’t understand. “We were both worried about you.”
“Oh, gosh. Don’t worry about me. Go to bed. Get ready for your interview. You’re the ones who moved. I should be worried about you.”
“I guess you’re right, you taking care of old faithful?”
I smiled into the phone and rubbed my hand along the tacky flower patterned couch. “You know I am.”
Vic had gotten the couch at a garage sale a few weeks after he moved out on his own when he was eighteen, over seven years ago. He’d paid five bucks and it was the first piece of furniture he’d ever owned. Even after he started making big money at Rapture and was dating Chris, he refused to get rid of it. I’d always loved the old thing even after I moved in, with all of its imperfections and dulled colors.
“I still hate Chris for making me leave her behind,” Victor lamented.
“Oh, whatever, you do not.” They’d left all the furniture behind and saved enough money to buy everything new, so I had a fully functional guest bedroom now, not to mention fabulous antique décor all over the apartment, courteous of their eyes for a good find and professional decorating skills.
“You’re right, but only because I know you will take care of her.” He paused. “We love you, Jewel. Take care of yourself, okay?”
“I love you guys, too. Bye.” I hung up before I started blubbering like a baby. I missed them both so much.
No sooner had I pressed end that someone pounded on the door. The loud noise startled me and Weasley both. He took off to hide. I didn’t rush to the door. I knew who it would be. The elderly and very kind Mrs. Bugsby rented the only other condo on the eighth floor. Her husband had passed away some years before and occasionally she would come knocking on our door in the middle of the night, spooked by a noise she’d heard. I didn’t mind the interruptions. She was a sweeter, less crazy version of my gran.
I jerked the door open without looking through the peephole and found out the hard way that I was wrong about my unexpected guest. The towering body of a man stood on the other side of the threshold wearing dark jeans and a simple black jacket. The Ripper. His presence should have alarmed me, but it didn’t. Instead my first reaction was wet heat shooting to my core.
His gaze traveled over my body, not cold like I last saw it…but hungry for something other than food. His black
hair was wavy and contrasted perfectly with his olive skin. I sucked in a breath and my lips parted at the musky masculine scent that seemed to ooze from him.
“What are you doing here?”
Is that my voice shaking?
“I came to see my new partner.” His deep voice rumbled like a well-oiled engine.
“Partner?”
“Yes. Didn’t Jimmy call you? He’s booked every weekend for the next six months solid because of our show tonight.”
I blinked. “What?”
The door across the hall screeched open. “Is everything all right out there, dear?”
I stared at Mrs. Bugsby in her pink robe, her head full of curlers, and realized I was only wearing a pair of pink boy short panties and a yellow sport bra.
“Oh, yes. Mrs. Bugsby. Everything’s fine.” I moved to shut the door in his face, but his hand shot out, preventing it from closing.
“We need to talk,” he said.
I frowned at the tattooed hand holding the door open. Talk?
“You’re sure?” Mrs. Bugsby’s voice wavered.
The word love stared back at me from just beneath his knuckles. Knuckles that had brushed against my skin just hours before. A hundred scenarios ran through my mind before I stepped back and released the door.
“Yes, thank you, ma’am.”
“Okay, goodnight, dear.” Her door squeaked shut as mine opened wider, and the Ripper walked in.
The Ripper, seriously. You work with this man. He’s not a frickin serial killer…right?
“What’s your real name? I refuse to call you ‘The Ripper’.” I said after several seconds of awkward silence.
He smiled, revealing straight white teeth, but it didn’t reach his eyes. The hungry look was gone from them, replaced with the cold glare I’d seen at the club. Instinctively, I backed up a step.
Drowning in Rapture: Rapture, Book One Page 2
