Chapter 18
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“Where are you taking me?” Ophelia asked.
Hell, Tristan thought as he led Ophelia out of his office.
Or perhaps he was already there. He wanted to scream from how aroused he was; from how Ophelia’s little experiment had ended up teasing his senses just as much as hers.
His tumescence was now begging for release, and for the first time ever, he was in the erotic club- that he owned- and he could not do a thing about it. Not yet anyway.
“So I take it you liked what you saw on the swings in the main room?” Tristan asked as he led her down the hall.
For a moment she didn’t answer, as if she was worried it was a trick question.
“There is no shame in saying so,” he said, stopping her just outside an opened bedroom. “Tell me. I know you only sketched two people, but there were multiple on the swing. At least three or four. Did you enjoy seeing so many people together?”
“Yes,” she confessed at last, “I did. I have read romance novels about two people but…”
“Go on,” he urged her. “I want to know.”
“I never knew more than two people could actually be compatible that way. That so many bodies could seem to fit together so perfectly.”
Tristan smiled with satisfaction under his mask, and pulled her back to his chest as he faced her toward an open room.
“That is what my club is for,” he whispered in her ear, trailing his fingertips down her throat. “Everyone has fantasies. Deep and dark that society must never know about. They come here to give into this parts of themselves. To make their fantasies come true with people who have the same as them.”
He lifted his gaze then to the sight before them, reveling in the way Ophelia’s breath hitched as she too settled her gaze on the two people in the bedroom.
“What do you see?” Tristan whispered into her ear. “Describe it to me.”
For a moment Ophelia seemed lost in watching the two people writhing and kissing on the bed, their lips and arms intertwined very much like the couple in her sketch.
“Two people kissing. A man,” she finally said, “strong. Handsome. Even with his mask on I can tell. And a woman. Naked from the waist down.”
“Why do you think that is?” Tristan asked, nibbling at her ear. “That he is fully dressed and she is not?”
He felt Ophelia shake her head.
“I do not know,” she whispered back as they watched the two people break their kiss.
The man started to lavish kisses along the half-naked woman’s throat.
As he did so, she nestled back into the pillows, as if relishing the attention, and slowly opened her eyes.
The woman seemed to lock eyes with Ophelia, and Tristan watched as a wicked smile spread across her face.
He shifted his gaze down to Ophelia’s face, and saw that she was looking back at the woman with equally rapt attention.
“It is a power dynamic,” he explained, trailing his fingertips down his arm. “A show of being in control. One forced to be bare. The other completely covered.”
Ophelia continued to stare intently back at the woman as the man slowly made his way toward her naked breasts.
“Forced?” Ophelia asked, “This does not look to be forced. She looks as if she is quite enjoying it.
“She is,” Tristan agreed. “She wants to be in the submissive role. She wants to be seen.”
Pleasure slaked through Tristan’s veins as Ophelia leaned further into him and placed the back of her hand against his chest. She started to caress her knuckles against his sternum, and he wondered if she even realized if she was doing it.
Feeling himself being lulled into the erotic energy before them, Tristan let his eyes close as he leaned into the doorway.
He suddenly want to rip his waistcoat and shirt from his chest so he could feel her skin to skin and before he could help himself, his grip on her waist tightened, and he pulled her back into his front until their hips were aligned.
He heard Ophelia gasp slightly, saw a small shiver pass through her as her head lolled slightly back, and he ground himself agains her once again.
The moment his aching erection pressed against her backside, the softest of whimpers broke from her lips, and her felt her hips undulate in response.
Just that small movement had need slamming into his loins, and he had to take a moment to breathe and concentrate.
Never had he been so aroused with so little of touch. .
“I like her,” Ophelia murmured.
Tristan forced his eyes open as he heard the fascination in Ophelia’s voice. He immediately noticed that she and the woman were still staring at each other, even as the man had taken his place between the woman’s legs.
“What do you like about her?” Tristan asked.
His words drew into a hiss as Ophelia’s knuckles drew down his chest and to his trousers; stroking over his aching manhood.
“Ophelia,” he rasped.
Surely she did not realize where he hand was.
“I must disagree with you,” she murmured, grazing her knuckles over his hardened length; sending shivers of pleasure throughout his body.
Tristan struggled to swallow; to breathe.
“About what,” he managed to get out.
Overtaken by the lust building between them, Tristan twirled his fingers around Ophelia’s exploring hand, and guided her below the lip of his trousers.
“Should I stop?” He whispered, his lips grazing over ear.
His vision went blank as in response to his question, Ophelia’s hand slipped between the lip of his trousers, smoothed down the bare skin of his taut lower abdomen, and her fingers wrapped gently around his erection.
There was no doubt anymore. Ophelia’s lust was equally as strong as his knew exactly what she was doing.
“About the power dynamic,” she said quietly, keeping her eyes on the woman. “He may be fully dressed, but I believe she is the one that is control.”
She started to stroke him, gently, almost reverently, and Tristan’s hand tightened around the door frame.
He drew in a shaky breath as he lifted his gaze from his trousers to the woman before them.
She was smiling at Ophelia, as if she’d heard what she’d just whispered in Tristan’s ear.
As if she could see what Ophelia was doing, even though her body hid where her hand was.
“I..”Tristan’s words cut off in a shaky exhale as she gave his cock a firm squeeze, sending lightning bolts through his veins and making droplets of pre come form at his mushroomed tip.
“What was that?” Ophelia asked, her tone innocent.
“I think you are mistaken,” he forced out, his pleasure heightening as her stroking hand grew firmer, bolder, quicker.
“Yet she is the one being pleasured, yes?” Ophelia asked.
Tristan grip on the doorframe grew tighter. He had gravely underestimated that amount of liberties Ophelia was willing to take, and he felt the power dynamic between them begin to shift.
“Yes,” he grit out, losing his focus. “Ophelia, what are you doing?”
“Should I stop?” She asked, and her fingers froze around him.
Tristan let out a tortured groan as he shook his head. He’d never been more confused about the dynamic of power in his life.
“What is it you said earlier? One must hear the words of permission?” She asked.
“Don’t…” he forced out, feeling his mind unravel, “Don’t stop.”
His knees nearly buckled beneath him as her hand resumed its gentle strokes, and he closed his eyes as he rested his forehead to the back of her head.
“You are a devil woman,” he bit out, his hips starting to move in time with her hand.
It had been far too long since he’d felt release, since he’d unleashed his primal side- but this was nothing like he was used to. He was in control. He was always in control…until now.
“I thought you were the devil?” She murmured back, completely unfazed by his insult.
The orgasmic cry from the woman before them had Tristan opening his eyes again, and he watched as his pleasure drew towards the precipice of release as the woman drew the man up by his hair and pressed him into the mattress.
Her eyes, Tristan knew, found Ophelia’s once again as she straddled the man’s hip backwards, drew his erection from his trousers, and began riding him.
A low groan poured from the man’s lips as his head arched back into the pillows, and suddenly Tristan understood. He had been wrong. The man was not in control. He only thought he was.
Ophelia’s hand began to stroke Tristan’s erection in time with each thrust of the woman’s hips, and everything Tristan thought he knew about power dissolved. He gave in to his lust, to the feel of Ophelia’s hand; to the dominant nature she had so very cleverly subverted over him.
“I like these liberties,” she murmured into his ear. He groaned as she then nipped and suckled at his lobe; just as he had done with her only moments ago in his office. “I like what you have shown me. I am learning so much.”
Tristan could not respond. As the woman rode the man faster Ophelia stroke his cock faster, the two of them keeping pace with one another. Somewhere in the back of his mind, his dominance roared in anger and promised retribution.
“I have read what happens to men when he releases,” Ophelia whispered on, “I never thought I would care to feel such a thing until now.”
“Ophelia…” he was barely able to breathe out her name; so close to his orgasm.
“I want to feel yours, though” she brazenly whispered. “I want to feel you seed in my hand.”
That dominant part of him roared louder, closer to the surface.
“This is not what I had in mind,” he grit out, torn between taking control and having his much needed release.
“No?” Ophelia asked, stroking him faster now, “I find this very inspiring all the same. I think I should actually like to paint this.”
She was teasing him, finding it humorous that she literally had him in the palm of his hand.
“You, pressed so tightly to a doorway, being brought to your wits end,” she whispered, “What do you think?”
Tristan’s breath grew sharper and quicker as his release drew to the surface at time as the man being ridden.
“I think when I get you back to my office,” Tristan forced out as he approached that proverbial edge of bliss, “I am going to punish you for this.”
Ophelia’s hand squeezed tighter, milking his rigid cock in one more, strong, powerful stroke, and Tristan felt himself tumble over that edge.
His eyes snapped shut as his head dropped and his mouth opened, letting out a silent scream as his tips of his short nails dug into the doorframe.
Every ounce of tension that he had been walking around with for the past two weeks drained out of his body until his legs felt numb and useless.
“You were right,” Ophelia purred into his ear as she slowed her strokes, sending intense spasms of pleasure through his post-release bliss, “Taking your control? This was wonderful inspiration.”
Tristan eyes snapped open as that beast inside him roared to the surface. He grabbed her wrist, pulling her drenched hand from his trousers, and spun her around; slamming her back into the door jam.
“You’re going to pay for that,” he warned.
Ophelia’s grin was purely wicked.