by Hart, Rye
“Oh, I heard he makes the best sushi in town,” Crystal said.
“And the one with the green tail is Maxwell Ronchetto.”
“Wait, I know that name,” I said. “Why do I know that name?”
“Because Maxwell Ronchetto founded the culinary school you two went to.”
I almost fainted right there on the spot.
We cased the wall one last time before we got all the way to the back again. People were slowly trickling back toward the rooms and I could hear lewd and lascivious sounds coming from them. Some were obvious sounds of pleasure; others were muffled sounds that sounded almost like someone was in distress. I wasn’t sure how I felt about any of it. As we passed by a group of women, I could hear them whispering.
“You think he’ll come out?”
“Is he even here?”
“The dark prince is always here.”
“I wish he would pick me.”
“Who are they talking about?” I asked. “Who’s the ‘dark prince’?”
“Oh, that’s the owner of the club. Some super-secret billionaire businessman with ties to the mob or something,” Eli said.
“Wait, what?” I asked. “We’re at a party thrown by the mob?”
“No one really knows,” Eli said, shrugging. “It’s all rumors anyway. He’s known for coming out of that little hidey hole they’re staring at when he sees something he likes.”
“How can he see it if he’s not out here, well, seeing it?” I asked.
“That’s the real question, isn’t it?” Crystal asked, grinning. “I bet he’s got cameras around here that he watches.”
“He’s a true dom,” Eli said. “That’s all anyone really knows. Everything else about him is just speculation. Except for him using a woman just for one night. That’s true, too.”
“So, he comes out when he sees someone on camera he likes,” I said. “And he uses them for what? Pleasure? Then he just leaves?”
“Pretty much,” Eli said. “I would actually let him give me a nice little ride. You know, just for the experience.”
“You little switch, you,” Crystal said.
“What?” I asked.
“A switch,” Crystal said. “It’s someone who prefers one role but can easily slip into the other if necessary.”
“This all sounds like something out of a sci-fi movie to me,” I said.
“Yet, we’ve been here thirty minutes, and you haven’t cried ‘uncle’ yet,” Crystal said.
She was right. I hadn’t suggested we go back yet. I was uncomfortable and I was in a world I didn’t recognize, but I didn’t feel threatened. I didn’t feel like I was in any danger. And none of these people knew who I was anyway, except Eli and Crystal.
“Wanna dance?”
I whipped my head around at the voice and saw a man dressed in tight leather pants and a black mask. No shirt. No shoes. No tie or anything. Just a six pack, some pants, and a mask hiding his face. Crystal practically shoved me into him and he caught me, chuckling in a way that made me feel disturbingly tantalized. Still, I took his hand and he led me to the dance floor as the music started rattling my bones.
As I danced with the man, the cages around the dance floor were slowly filling up with practically-naked men and women. The one I’d seen earlier who sat on the dildo was gone but, in her place, was a man swaying his hips and swinging the cage itself on its chain. The bass of the music was caressing my nerves, raising my nipples to painful peaks as the man’s hands traveled over my body. I could feel the music penetrating me, hypnotizing me in ways I’d never experienced before as I pressed the swell of my ass into the man’s crotch.
But as my eyes lifted from the floor to the balcony surrounding the building, I saw a man venture out of that little hideout the women were gossiping over.
The man that emerged was tall and muscular. Even in the shadows, I could see his strength. His jawline was etched with a granite-like steadiness; like it had been forged in the fires of a kiln. He was dressed in a perfectly-tailored white suit that boasted a black collar, and his face was covered by a half-mask of molded black.
I could feel his gaze on me while his eyes swam along my body.
I followed him with my eyes as he headed for the stairs. His tall frame seemed to float, his muscles flexing with every movement as he practically snaked across the floor and the crowd slowly stopped dancing. Jaws dropped and eyes turned toward him. The man dancing with me dropped his hands from my waist as the mysterious man locked eyes with me once again.
This must be the dark prince everyone had been whispering about tonight.
And there was no denying who he was staring at.
Fuck, I’m turned on.
And scared shitless.
My dance partner stepped away from me and I mindlessly waited for him. I felt on display, like a wounded animal being stalked by the lion about to pounce on its jugular. He was headed right for me, his beautiful blue eyes encasing the whole of me as he slowly strode across the floor. His eyes burned into me, penetrating my very soul. It was as if all my secrets and mistakes and imperfections were on display for him and I felt my hands beginning to tremble, even as my eyes stayed attached to his.
I was frozen in my spot as he stood in front of me, moving himself between the man I was dancing with and my body.
Without his eyes dropping my stare, I felt his hand reach over to take mine. He lifted it into the air and stepped toward me, his free arm grazing my lower back as he pulled my body close to his. I could feel the whole of his strength against my skin. I could feel the beating of his heart against my body. I could feel the way he held me tightly, daring me to fall into him just to see if he would catch me.
I let out the breath I was holding as his hand pressed deeper into my back and, soon, he began gliding me across the floor to the beat of the music.
He was a wonderful dancer. Fluid. Attuned to my body. He guided me in all the ways I could understand, all while his eyes stayed connected with mine. My neck was craned back to keep him in my view, trying to read the few facial features I could see while we twisted and turned around the dance floor.
His presence was almost overwhelming. The way he gripped my hand, the way he held me tightly, the way his body pressed into mine and invaded all the spaces I didn’t take up. The way his gaze pierced through my walls, and the way I suddenly felt comfortable in his arms.
The tension was overpowering and I suddenly found myself short of breath.
The song started to fade, and I could feel my chest rising and falling rapidly. There was a spark of worry that started in my chest. I didn’t know if I could catch my breath. I broke my stare with him as the song slowly switched into another one, but I felt him tug me to the edge of the room as everyone started to trickle back onto the dance floor.
I followed him without a second thought and I didn’t even understand why.
He took my hand protectively, but not forcefully. He was leading me, not tugging me like Crystal had been all day today. I studied the back of his body, the way his broad shoulders quickly tapered into his hips. I studied the long lines of his legs and the way his black shoes glistened with the colors of the strobe lights flickering across the room.
By the time I turned my attention to what was in front of us, I was being led into a part of the building that was partitioned off by a large, black, velvet piece of cloth.
We stopped in the dimly lit hallway and he quickly turned in my direction. I gasped, backing myself into the wall as he took a small step toward me. His hands reached out for my mask, trying to lift it from my head and I grasped his wrist. The point of tonight was for no one to see me. No one was supposed to know who I was. If he saw my face, it would be easy for him to know I was lying about my name. I didn’t even plan on giving anyone my name, honestly. The plan was to stick close to Crystal and Eli and just witness.
Digest.
Experience.
His eyes connected with mine and there was an odd sort of soft
ness behind them. His body was chiseled underneath his clothes, but there was a slight hint of something else. Not sadness and not weakness. Softness wasn’t really the word, either.
Patience.
He was waiting for me to give him consent and there was something about that idea that made me oddly comfortable.
I slid my hand from his wrist and swallowed hard. He proceeded to remove my mask slowly. Intimately. Almost as if he were unwrapping a present. My face came into view as I looked up at him and the patience behind his eyes vanished. Now, I was looking into the eyes of a man who considered me his prey. His eyes grew steely as his hand cupped my chin and he slowly twisted my face from side to side, like he was studying me.
Making sure I was up to his standards.
“Perfect,” he murmured.
His voice was low, like rolling thunder off in the distance. He wasn’t the Dark Prince. He wasn’t mangled royalty. He was the oncoming storm and something told me I was about to get wet.
Soaking wet.
He raised his arm and snapped his fingers, and suddenly, a pair of servers appeared. The man and the woman were clad in nothing but straps and buckles with all of their most intimate parts on display. The man was holding an ice bucket with a bottle of what looked to be extremely expensive champagne and the woman was holding two long-stemmed glasses. I watched the man they called the Dark Prince inspect the glasses before he took a look at the champagne. He was examining everything closely, attentively, like he was in control of every single thing that went on in front of my eyes.
That was what he was trying to prove.
That he was in control.
He waved them off so they could pour the champagne. Then I saw the man hand him two glasses. He held one out for me, and I took it, rocked by the attention he was giving me. He wasn’t just making sure things were perfect for him, he was making sure things were perfect for me.
I had no idea what I was doing. I’d never even been on a proper date, much less found myself alone with a man like this. The intensity of his gaze and the fact that he didn’t speak caused my heart to pound deep within my chest. The man and the woman stood there while we sipped our champagne in the dimly lit hallway, his eyes grazing up and down my body. I could see them sparkling, drinking in my curves while his decadent lips curved around the champagne glass.
I’d finished the champagne quicker than I’d intended, causing a shadow of a grin to pull at his cheek.
He plucked the glass from my hand and, just for a second, our skin touched. It sent electricity ricocheting up my arm, puckering my skin as my eyes widened. I had no idea why this man called to my body the way he did, but as he held his hand out for me, I realized what he was doing.
He was asking for my consent again.
I could feel the wetness growing between my legs as I stared at his hand. My heart was pounding in my chest and the blood was rushing through my ears. I was a virgin, a young girl taking care of her orphaned brother. I had no experience; I had no skills. I had no idea what I was doing in a place like this and I sure as hell didn’t know how to pleasure a man like the one that was standing before me.
But I knew one thing for certain, one thing that rang out in the forefront of my mind. His commanding demeanor and his ruggedly handsome appearance called to me in a way no man ever had before and I knew, if I walked away from this, I would never forgive myself.
So, I slipped my hand within his and, for the first time since I’d seen him on that balcony, he smiled.
That smile of his could’ve lured Satan out of his lair and I shivered with anticipation as he began leading me down the hallway.
CHAPTER FOUR - CAMILLO
The woman placing her hand within mine looked like a princess. Like Snow White, her pale skin, ruby red lips, and raven tresses made me ache for her in a way I’d never experienced before. The innocence she exuded through her white lace dress tugged at my body, pulling me toward her like a magnet to her smooth metal gaze. I wanted to devour her and not come up for hours. The way she was silently studying me, debating on whether or not to take my hand, thundered my heart in my chest.
All I needed was her consent and I’d whisk her away into a world she’d never even dreamed of.
She was a natural submissive that much was for sure. The way she held still for my gaze while I studied her was enough to prove that to me. We walked up a back set of stairs that wound to the top of the warehouse, straight into the room that sat across the hallway from my office. I opened the door and ushered her in, leaving the pair clad only in buckles out in the hallway, guarding my door. I watched her take in the room, the darkness of it falling around her pale curves as her hand danced along the thick wooden bedpost she would soon be against.
She turned toward me, her silent stare hooking back onto my lips. I stalked toward her, my movements rooting her in her spot as I reached my finger out gently to touch her cheek. I traced her jawline, feeling the softness of her body against my touch. Then, I trickled my fingertip down her neck, grazing her pulse point as I headed for her chest.
She allowed me unfettered access to the beautiful valley between her breasts before she took in a sharp gasp of air.
I looked up into her face and saw that telltale flush creep across her cheeks. A flush that had given away so many women before her. Except she didn’t try to hide it. She didn’t attempt to fight it.
Nor did she stop my finger from traveling down her body before naturally falling away.
She reminded me of a songbird that would stop in the tree outside my childhood home in Italy. The white bird, with its icy blue eyes, would sing a beautiful song, so clear and innocent. That bird always found a way of lifting my spirits during the worst times of my childhood. The song it sang would sink its talons into my heart, like this woman had somehow sunken hers into me as well.
“In the swamp in secluded recesses, a shy and hidden bird is warbling a song.”
I muttered the line as my eyes slowly grazed back up her body. Her picturesque beauty was something I could never have conjured in my wildest dreams. She was too pure for the sordid surroundings that encompassed her. Too innocent for the devious thoughts that existed in my head.
Her eyes widened as the line fell from my lips and I couldn’t help but be shocked when she responded.
“You read Yeats,” she said.
Even her voice reminded me of the songbird. Light and lilting, with low notes that rounded out such a full and heart-wrenching sound.
My little songbird, displayed to me for the taking.
I nodded. I read Yeats and other famous poets and philosophers as a little boy. Books of poetry were the only ones I had access to, with my father being the control freak that he was. When he enlisted me to hunt down my mother’s killers, the beautiful words would jump off the page, blocking out the horrid shrieks of the men I’d delivered to their maker.
This young woman wasn’t just a pretty face. She was intelligent as well. Her following me would be the best decision she’d made all evening. No man in that room could handle the beauty, grace, and intelligence that encompassed the woman standing before me. No man understood how to strum the strings of a woman who expected so much good from the world around her.
“My friends are out there,” she said.
“They will wait,” I said.
I reached over to the switch on the wall and slowly brightened the dim lighting of the room. She looked around and gasped, taking in the walls and the space that surrounded the bed she’d anchored herself to. I could tell she was staring at the expanse of it all. I’d taken up almost half of the hidden upstairs of this warehouse for my own personal pleasures.
It was like a sound stage with small vignettes. One corner was outfitted as my own personal stone dungeon; another was a sumptuous sitting area with ropes that were hidden beneath the opulent fabrics. There was another area that had a sunken in tub large enough for ten people and beside it was a massive, glass-encased shower. She had already become fa
miliar with the expansive four-poster bed, but the light revealed beside it a sitting area that was designed with a modern black and white motif, complete with leather furnishings.
I watched her while she slowly walked around, taking it all in as the flawlessness of her skin finally broke. Goosebumps were raging across her arms and her stomach, carrying with it a healthy flush I would pull from her time and time again before the night was over.
I could tell she was taking things in for the first time. That everything she was seeing was new for her. She was a true innocent, something that twitched my cock and made it grow beneath my tailored trousers. I’d amused myself with women for years. Women who just wanted a little taste, and women who were so submissive, they wanted to be humiliated. I’d satiate my appetite with them for an evening before casting them out, never fully whetting my palate the way I wanted.
I’d never considered anything serious until this very moment and I knew, then and there, I would seduce her. I wanted her, more than I could stand. Her long legs and her flat, toned stomach. Her supple breasts aching for my lips and her long black hair begging to be wrapped up in my fist.
She turned and looked back at me with curious wonder in her eyes and the undercurrent wafting between us was unmistakable. Her eyes ran down my body, drinking me in, the way I had just done with her, and I couldn’t help the smirk that rose upon my cheeks.
She was wanton and I was ready to make her mine. This woman was special and I intended to treat her as such.
I just had to find out why first.
I walked over to her and held out my hand, silently asking for her consent once again. She took my hand without a second thought, and I slowly led her over to the sitting area by the bed. I held my arm out for her, allowing her to steady herself in her heels as she sat onto the full-leather chair, then I pulled up the ottoman and sat with my back straight.
I rolled my shoulders back and drew in a deep breath, expanding my chest as her eyes took in my every movement.
Then, I asked the one question that would start off a night I would never forget.
