Chapter Twenty #2
A rumbling growl slipped from Henri. His hands balled as he trained his stare on Charles. “I know exactly what Roland likes. I’ve gotten to know him quite well over the past six months.”
“Interesting fellow, isn’t he.”
“If by interesting you mean he likes snuff films with minors?” Henri wiped his mouth. “Sure. Interesting.”
“Ah well, we all have our quirks.” Charles chuckled and fed another battered vegetable to his slave.
Henri didn’t answer him. I didn’t think he could.
Scooping up another forkful of pea puree, he practically shoved it into my mouth.
I rocked back on my heels, narrowly avoiding being stabbed in the back of the throat.
Chewing quickly, I caught the eyes of the Mohawked jewel before dropping my stare. He gave me a fleeting smile, encouraging and kind.
My heart broke all over again.
These poor people had been captured, trafficked, and forced to become pets for abusive owners. They had kennels to sleep in, collars they were shocked with, and a strict diet given by those in power.
It suddenly gave me a rush of empathy toward pets around the world. The helplessness a dog must feel chained in the rain. The hunger a cat must feel when its owners had gone away—
“Use the butt-plug!” someone yelled, cutting through the sultry Latin music.
“Get to the fucking already!” another one ordered.
Henri froze as we both looked at the stage where Peter and Corine glittered with sweat from dancing. Their chests heaved; the spotlight blinded them. Peter’s eyes flickered to Victor, his eyebrow quirking.
Very subtly, Victor nodded.
With a heavy sigh, Peter stalked toward the rack of whips, floggers, and other sexual torture devices.
“No toys,” Victor commanded. “Those are for our guests and their pleasure once dinner is finished. Just the show, Peter sweetling, if you would be so kind.”
With a bow, Peter marched back toward Corine.
She didn’t move, but an invisible cloak of acceptance slid over her as the two jewels, with their matching collar and cuffs, slipped into entirely different characters.
All around the room, men settled deeper into their chairs and grinned at one another.
The music turned softer; the air thickened with anticipation.
My heart flurried as Peter crossed his arms and said in a loud, cold voice, “This was your fifth dancing lesson, miss. You came here begging me to teach you how to salsa on your wedding night, yet you’ve never paid me. I expect payment. Now.”
Corine rolled her shoulders, slipping into a shy little bride who’d come for lessons to perhaps seduce her husband-to-be. “I know. I’m sorry. I-I didn’t mean to take advantage—”
“You’ve done more than that,” Peter snapped. “You’ve teased me and thought I wouldn’t notice. These outfits? The looks? You’re a bad, bad girl.”
Oh no.
Cold water ran down my back. Henri stiffened in his chair.
Our eyes locked.
He bit his bottom lip.
I flinched as Peter said with booming authority, “You’ve racked up quite a debt, miss. Your wedding is next week, and I doubt you’ll be back once you’re on your honeymoon.” Holding out his hand, he opened and closed his fingers. “Pay me. I won’t let you leave here until you do.”
Corine pressed her palms to her cheeks in a dramatic shock. “But I have no money. That’s why I’m marrying him. He’s wealthy. I-I needed you to show me how to please him, so he gives me an allowance and—”
“Excuses. I’m so sick of excuses.” Peter snatched her wrist and spun her again, plastering her to his body.
He sashayed her around the stage as if he truly was a Latin teacher.
He certainly moved like one with rolling hips and sensual dips.
“I’ve taught you how to make him want you.
I’ve shown you what makes a man hard. You’ve made me hard.
I did what you asked, and now...you owe me. ”
Pushing out of his arms, Corine dashed to the other side of the stage. “Give me a few days. I’ll get some money. I’ll bring it to you and—”
“No.” Peter crossed his arms again. “Money now or...” Unwinding his posture, his hands dropped to his trousers. “Or you pay me in other ways.”
Corine gulped. “O-Other ways?”
Stalking toward her, Peter popped the button of his pants. “You’re not married yet.”
“Wait! You can’t mean—”
“I fuck you, and we’ll call it even.” Peter smiled as he stroked his cock through his trousers. “Let me show you how a real man fucks before you marry that ancient creep.”
“I can’t.” She dashed away. “I-I’m engaged.”
“So?”
“So...I can’t. I won’t.”
“Won’t what? Tease me? Because you’ve been doing that all week.” His jaw tipped down. “I’m done not getting what I’m owed, miss, and that means...you either get on your hands and knees and take it or...”
She balled her hands against her chest, pushing up her breasts. “Or?”
“I take it anyway.”
Henri pinched the bridge of his nose, his shadow jerky in the darkness. The swell of his pants revealed he was just as affected as me. Just as shocked that dinner’s entertainment was straight-up porn. Just as horrified because he was a cop and didn’t sign up for any of this.
My skin prickled with heat. My insides turned into fire the longer I watched him. The reluctant law enforcer turned Master. The awful cloak of resolution to play a part that disgusted him.
Memories of him thrusting inside me came thick and fast.
The delirious way he filled me.
The incomparable connection I’d felt.
I hadn’t come. I doubted I would ever come while being watched and technically abused, but...I had felt pleasure. I’d felt wanted. And I’d been treasured in a roundabout terribly tangled way.
And then, he’d fed me.
Cared for me.
Before Charles ruined it, the way he provided for me was like a tender form of foreplay. I’d felt more desire in that moment than I ever had, and that desire now trickled through my cells, gathering wet and achy between my legs.
I throbbed.
I didn’t want to. I wished I could stop it.
But...it was him.
He affected me.
He’d been affecting me from the very first moment I saw him.
I didn’t know how to turn it off. Didn’t know how to listen to my scolding mind or screeching self-preservation.
All I knew was he was different and—
He choked on a grunt as he looked down. Our eyes snapped together.
No, no, no.
Don’t see.
Don’t know.
I didn’t know how to mask the heat he’d conjured. Or how to deal with the shimmer of arousal between my very bare, very exposed legs.
He sucked in a breath, seeing, knowing.
I squirmed on the spot.
The fire inside me raged hotter.
My nipples pebbled.
And a shocking flush of moisture made me clench my thighs together.
I tore my gaze from his and looked down, balling my hands on my knees.
A soft growl escaped him, sending goosebumps down my spine.
Another course of food was delivered by inconspicuous staff. Henri sat ramrod straight as something delicious was placed in front of him.
He didn’t look at it.
His fingers curled into fists as he flicked a glance at Charles currently absorbed in the show, then forced his own attention back to the stage. I looked up just in time to see Peter snatch Corine’s wrist and drag her into the middle of the platform.
Shivers began.
I trembled on the spot as Peter shoved her down, spun her onto all fours, and flipped up the sad excuse of a skirt. “What’s it going to be, miss? Will you pay me in cash or pussy?”
Corine’s head hung low even as her legs spread wide. “Please...if my husband finds out.”
“He won’t find out. Unless you tell him.” Fumbling with his zipper, Peter kept one hand clamped on her hip so she couldn’t crawl away, all while his other pulled out his hard cock.
I sucked in a shaky breath.
Henri’s head snapped toward me.
His eyes burned into mine. I swear I saw a flash of jealousy. Did he think I was turned on by watching Peter? Or did he know I couldn’t control any part of myself around him anymore?
My heart.
My body.
Everything was a mess.
With a snarl, he suddenly snapped his fingers. “Stand up.”
Stand?
With desire evident between my thighs and my breasts heavier than they’d ever been?
No, I—
“Now, Ily.”
Struggling to my feet, I swayed before him. His eyes flashed between me and the stage. “Does seeing him about to fuck her turn you on?”
Before I could brace myself, his hand touched my knee, then drifted swift and possessive up my inner thigh.
My body erupted in tremors.
“Let’s see, shall we?” His voice dripped with black.
I wobbled as his fingers slipped between my legs. The smallest graze of his touch dragged a moan from deep, deep within me.
He jerked.
He let loose a stream of filthy French. “Putain de merde, tu es mouillée. Qu’est-ce que tu me fais, bordel.” (Fucking hell, you’re wet. What the hell are you doing to me?)
Shadows consumed his handsome, harsh face just before he spun me to face away. “His performance might have made you wet, Ily, but me? I’ll make you goddamn drenched.” Wrapping an arm around me from behind, he jerked me onto his lap and spread my thighs on either side of his.
Exposed.
Wide open.
I tried to fight his hold, but he imprisoned me against his chest and cupped one of my aching breasts. His teeth scraped my ear from behind. “Watch him. Watch them.”
My eyes turned hazy as his large hand shot down my belly.
This wasn’t acting or role-playing.
This was something else.
Something dangerous.
Corine cried out as Peter suddenly mounted her on stage. His cock sank deeply into her. Her back arched. He grunted.
They fit together so well. He withdrew only to vanish back inside her. She ground herself on him in salacious welcome.
Plates were pushed aside as Masters summoned slaves to serve. Charles inched his chair away from the table and snapped his fingers. The male jewel immediately rose up on his knees, undid his Master’s shorts, then inserted Charles’ hard cock into his mouth.