Chapter Twenty #4
For a second, I feared he’d slaughter the man with his dinner plate, but then he sat back, sucked in a breath, and grinned like a barbarian. “She didn’t come.” He traced one of his still damp fingers along his bottom lip. “She didn’t do anything to deserve that gift. Not yet anyway.”
My core clenched on emptiness.
My denied release twisted into a painful knot of need.
“You’re learning fast.” Charles chuckle-groaned as his jewel kept working his dick.
“Orgasm denial keeps them eager.” Running his hand over his jewel’s shoulder, he added, “Take this one. He blows like a trooper and takes it up the ass like a champ. He told me he’s straight, but he likes me fucking him. Don’t you, Dane?”
Dane nodded, his lips stretched around his Master’s cock.
“He prefers me over others because I occasionally reward him with a jerk-off.” Bending sideways, Charles reached down and grabbed Dane’s bare erection.
Dane immediately reared higher on his knees, rocking his hips into his Master’s fist.
Henri kept a smile on his lips all while he turned stiff in his chair. “Guess I’ll have to keep working on my training.”
“Keep going right now. Don’t stop on my account.
” Charles twisted Dane’s cock meanly before letting him go and placing both hands on his head.
“Watching your new jewel forget where she is and what she’s become was the highlight of my dinner.
” He grunted, his thrusts turning quick and shallow.
“She wanted you, man. Just like I want to—” He cried out as he came.
His untoned belly clenched beneath his white t-shirt, his beard shivering as he jerked into the mouth of a captive.
Henri looked away.
Sourness splashed on my tongue.
Rhythmic grunts fell from Charles and just like that, the black passion and unexplainable desperation between me and Henri was gone.
Poof.
Erased.
Reality once again threw buckets of snow over us, reminding us where we were. Why we were here and what would happen if we were caught.
Good God, Ily.
How could you?
How could you almost come?
How could you even want to?
My shoulders rolled with suffocating self-hatred.
I despised myself that lust had been powerful enough to make me forget...even for a moment.
God, what would Krish think?
What the hell has become of me?
Wrapping my arms around my snarling middle, I rocked by Henri’s feet. Tears welled again, this time full of disgust.
“Don’t,” Henri hissed under his breath, his eyes locking onto the glittering liquid. “I beg you—”
“Fucking take it!” Peter roared on the stage as he thrust into Corine, shunting her across the floor as he rode his own climax. Corine screamed dramatically as if she came too. Whether she did or not didn’t seem to matter to the many men watching.
The performing couple set off a catalyst of lust and the heady, heavy groans of orgasms reaching their pinnacle threaded with the music.
My own unfinished release only made me sick.
In the distance, Victor jerked through his own pleasure before disengaging and tucking himself back into his trousers. With a snap of his fingers, the slave he’d just used dropped to her knees, head down, hands balled, lips firmly pressed into silence.
Sitting down and stabbing something from his untouched dinner plate, Victor looked across the tables at us. To Henri. And froze with his fork halfway to his mouth.
Slowly, he placed the food back down and wiped his mouth with a napkin. Shoving his chair back, he strolled toward us like a dictator.
Peter and Corine finished their act. Pulling apart, they scurried off the stage only to be summoned by two Masters on opposite sides of the room.
Peter hissed as someone pressed the shock button on his collar, making his knees buckle.
He didn’t fall, but the cruel laughter of whoever shocked him carried over the room.
“That was for fucking another and enjoying it, Pete. Come ’ere. It’s now my turn to fuck you.”
I immediately dropped my eyes.
I didn’t want to see Peter being taken or Victor as he loomed over Henri. At least the table between us offered a smidgen of protection.
Crossing his arms, Victor studied Henri far too closely. “You’re almost popping out of your pants, my friend.” He tilted his head, blue eyes narrowing. “Tell me, why isn’t your dick deep inside her if you’re as horny as you look? After all, you paid fucking two million for the right.”
“I was just about to ask the same thing.” Charles smirked, tucking into his own dinner now that he’d spurted down some poor slave’s throat.
“He had her writhing like a whore all over his hand.” Pointing his dirty fork at me, he added, “She’s dripping for it, but...
I don’t think he’s gotten the concept that he can fuck anything and anyone in whatever way he wants yet. ”
“I’m merely warming her up to take my cock.” Henri smiled through gritted teeth. “I need her loose, so I don’t tear—”
“Of course.” Victor nodded with a quick roll of his eyes.
“But you know, Ward, you don’t need to warm her up.
She’ll take you in whatever way you want her.
Tear her, rip her, that’s entirely your prerogative.
” His voice lowered with conspiratorial comradery.
“You’re not beholden to the usual rules of out there.
In here, you don’t need to give foreplay.
You don’t have to give a damn about her pleasure.
If she comes when you take her, then she should consider herself lucky.
It’s not up to you to get her off. It’s up to her to please you.
” He huffed with a shake of his head. “I don’t understand what you’re not getting about this. ”
God, I hate you.
Henri fought his scowl. “And if I like scrambling her mind with lust? If I enjoy fingering her wet pussy until she’s completely drunk in my arms, what then?”
“Then I suppose you’re tamer than I thought.”
“Or I like to savour my food.” Henri snapped his teeth together. “Everyone knows fear spoils the meal. Show a lamb the knife, and the meat is stringy. Kill it while it’s happy in the field, and it’s the tenderest roast you’ve ever tasted.”
A shiver ran down my spine.
For a cop, he sure knew how to speak like a psychopath.
“Fine.” Victor sniffed. “You paid for her so take her however you wish.”
Henri tipped his head. “I appreciate—”
“However. Just to ease matters along. Allow me to help you. Diana?” Victor barked, looking into the shadows where a few waitstaff flitted about, ready to serve. “Bring a decanter of whatever alcohol Henri is drinking.”
“Yes, sir.” She curtsied and dashed away, returning a few moments later with a crystal bottle with a stopper. After placing it carefully next to Victor on the table, she faded into the background.
Victor splashed a very healthy amount into a glass and shoved it toward Henri. “Drink.”
Henri frowned. “I’m not thirsty.”
“Drink anyway.”
Holding Victor’s stare, Henri curled his hand around the glass. “I’ve already had one. That’s my limit. I make it a point to never get drunk. Not after last time.”
“You shot drink after drink back at the club when I told you to strap Ily to the table.”
“That was... extenuating circumstances.”
“But why deny yourself indulgences? Do you say things you’re not meant to if your tongue is oiled with booze?” Victor kept a very careful eye on him.
Tread carefully, Henri.
Please...
“No.” Henri raised the tumbler and sipped the amber alcohol. “I tend to do things that break the law if I’m smashed. That’s what got me into this mess.”
“Mess?” Victor’s tone turned chilly.