Chapter Nineteen #2
I swallowed hard, picturing all kinds of despicable things. Instead of stabbing him with my fork, I raised my glass. “Hear, hear.”
“Enough,” Victor commanded quietly, ripping my eyes back to the ongoing torture. “You’re killing him, Bruce, and I rather like Toby.”
With a pertinent huff, Bruce stopped stabbing the button.
Toby went lax on the floor. His breathing rattled. Blood streaked from his nose.
After a few seconds of his panting, Victor moved toward him. “Toby, go to your Master, please. Don’t make me ask twice.” He toed his abused jewel. “There’s a good lad.”
Toby groaned and nodded.
I honestly didn’t know how he did it, but the thin slave with a shock of sable hair slowly hauled himself to his hands and knees and crawled over to Bruce. The moment he reached the table, Bruce unzipped his pants, pulled out his hard cock, and sat in his chair like a king expecting to be served.
I looked away.
And froze.
Only three jewels remained in the middle of the gazebo.
A girl who I guessed was Middle Eastern, Ily with her blended heritage, and Peter who I suspected hailed from India with his dark brown hair and tanned skin.
In fact, seeing him stand beside Ily, similarities in their skin tone made me wonder if she had similar origins. But then again, her light hazel eyes came from somewhere else entirely.
“Peter.” Victor smiled like the ringleader of this disgusting circus. “You and Corine know what’s expected of you tonight. Get up there.”
“Yes, Sir V.” Corine nodded and scurried toward the stage like a speedy little mouse, obviously eager to avoid a shock like Toby.
Peter bowed politely but didn’t leave quite as quickly. Turning to go, he caught Ily’s gaze, then in a flash almost too fast to see, he snatched her hand, squeezed, and released her.
She grimaced.
He left with Corine while Ily’s eyes lingered on him.
My insides tangled.
Once again, a flare of possession and a concerning amount of jealousy filled me. They seemed...friendly. Friendly enough to share secrets.
Secrets?
Like Ily and I shared secrets?
Fuck, she didn’t share mine, did she?
I’d forbidden her from speaking this afternoon to protect her from replying to bastards who might proposition her, but I never imagined I’d want to gag her around the other jewels too.
She held my literal life in her hands.
If she told one person what I was doing here, I was dead. Worse than dead. In pieces.
Ily stood all alone once Peter and Corine climbed the stage.
Jealousy turned to protection; I shot to my feet. Clicking my fingers like she was a pet poodle, I snapped, “Ily, come here. My lap is cold.”
Her head shot up. Her eyes met mine. Something deeper than fear flashed in her golden stare. Sunshine shone through her, drenching me in yet more nightmares.
With a quick glance at the dining tables and their cruel, sadistic inhabitants, she darted toward me. The sheerness of her outfit and the shortness of the skirt flashed almost everyone watching her.
Biting her bottom lip, she came to a stop in front of me.
My skin tingled with how many people watched us, including Victor.
I couldn’t whisper to her. Couldn’t remind her to play along.
I simply sat back down, spread my legs like a cocky cunt, then pointed at my lap. “Face away, sit down, and get reacquainted with what’s going inside you once I’ve eaten my dinner.”
A sharp intake of breath as she slowly did as I requested. Turning on the spot, her body looked even more enticing being shadowed by innocent white before she backed into me and sat primly on my knee.
Not good enough.
Wrapping my arm around her waist, I tugged her back until her ass thudded against my lower belly. Pushing her knees apart, I made her straddle me. The heat between her bare legs fucking incinerated me.
The fine line I had to walk seemed a little more frayed and a lot more treacherous the moment she forced herself to relax. She felt far too good, far too breakable and beautiful and mine.
My body reacted with a surge of compulsive, corrupted need.
In a heartbeat, I became hard, achy, and pissed the fuck off.
Flashing a look at Charles down the table, I fisted Ily’s left breast. “Can’t wait for dessert.”
Charles chuckled, his attention on his own slave. A handsome male jewel with a dark blond Mohawk. “Yeah, me too.”
Ily shifted on my lap, trying to get comfortable.
I groaned involuntarily as she rubbed against my throbbing dick. My hand seized her breast; my forehead crashed against her spine. “Keep doing that, and I’ll have you as an entrée, not dessert.”
She froze.
I rolled her nipple around in my fingers.
The urge to take her overwhelmed every useless sense.
She made me so fucking hard and hyper-fucking-sensitive.
Was this what all men felt when it came to lust?
How had I been missing out on this all my life?
Why was my brain so toxic that I got hard in a room full of men and slaves? Why did my body come alive while fondling a girl I didn’t know—a girl who didn’t have a choice—all while the threat of death hung over us?
Life would be so much simpler if I was normal...
My hips shot up on their own accord, driving my erection against her ass.
She made me want too badly, crave too darkly.
She gasped and tipped forward. Her hands landed on my knees, holding on with sharp nails.
Every muscle in my legs seized as blackness dripped over my mind.
In true society, this would never happen. In the real world, I would never be able to take out my dick, tell her to bend over, and fuck her on the table in front of everyone.
But in this one...
Christ, it wasn’t just encouraged, it was expected, and that...that messed me up on my most basic, primordial level.
Do it...
Give the order...
You know you want to.
“Get the fuck off me.” I shoved her away with trembling hands.
It was either remove myself from temptation or give in.
And no fucking way would I give in.
I’m better than this.
I’m good.
She tripped off me, swaying a little as I caught her wrist and spun her to face me.
Too many eyes watching. Too many men waiting.
I couldn’t ask how she was or what’d happened to her while I’d thrown up in the shower then passed out in a catatonic fugue.
All I could do was cling to my self-control and keep fighting.
“Kneel.” I bared my teeth. “Kneel beside me and open your pretty little mouth.”
Charles chuckled.
Ily stiffened.
With a guarded look, she lowered her chin.
And then...ever so slowly and so damn elegantly, she dropped to her knees and opened wide.