Chapter 4 #2
His fingers find the hem of my dress. “Harper,” he breathes into my ear. “I won’t touch you until you say yes.” He runs his fingers along the edge of the fabric. “So the question is, do you want me to touch you?”
“Yes,” I say immediately, not even thinking about it. Of course I want him to touch me. Right now, it’s the only thing I want. I feel like I’ll combust if he doesn’t, like the ache will overwhelm me, growing in intensity until I can’t take it anymore.
“Thank fuck,” Nate mutters, and then his fingers are on my skin, on the flesh of my thigh, and he’s pushing aside the hem of my dress as they travel farther north.
“I’ve wanted to do this all night, Harper,” he says, his lips against my ear.
“I saw you walk through that door and it was all I could think about.”
His teeth nip at my ear and I groan, the sound loud over the hushed noises coming through the speaker. “I had to know what this beautiful skin would feel like.” His fingers slip farther up my leg, his caress feather light. “You’re so soft.”
“Nate,” I whisper, shifting my hips against him, my body urging him not to stop. “Please.”
He chuckles against my neck and God, it feels so good to be held like this. I’m caged against him by that single strong arm, his muscular chest behind me. I feel safe and protected against him.
I remember the way it had felt earlier, leaning on him as he led me through the steel door. How I had known that this is a man who could hold me up. I know that truth even more deeply now. Nate is going to take care of me.
And all I have to do is let him.
“Is this what you want?”
“Yes. Please, yes.” I look over my shoulder, wanting to see his face, desperate to plead with him, desperate for him to keep going. But he’s having none of that.
“Eyes on the glass,” he says, a command in his voice I’m beginning to find familiar. I do as I’m told and he rewards me by bringing his fingertips to the lace edge of my panties. “Good girl.”
Damn. I had no idea two words could be so arousing, but the sound of Nate praising me has the heat in my belly turning up even higher, scorching me.
“Fuck, Harper, you’re so wet. I can feel you through your panties.”
I moan again and then gasp as those fingers slip below the lace, brushing against my clit before moving swiftly to my slit. “Jesus,” he mutters. “So fucking wet.”
“Nate,” I moan, my hips moving again, needing more friction, needing…more.
“Stay still.”
I don’t know if I can. He feels so good and— “Still, Harper.” He tightens the other arm around my middle. “When my hands are on you like this, you do as I say. Understand?”
I breathe out a ragged breath. Why does he affect me like this? All he has to do is murmur a demand into my ear and I’m ready to melt into a puddle at his feet.
The hand encircling my waist suddenly slides up to my chin, his arm now crossed over my chest, crushed against my breast. His fingers are firm on my chin, clutching me. “Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
He nods against my shoulder. “Good. Now stay still and let me make you feel good.”
I whimper as his fingers begin their movement against my center again, brushing lightly, and then firmer, until finally, finally, he slips one inside. His groan is nearly as loud as my own.
“Jesus, you feel amazing, Harper. You’re so tight. So wet.” He adds another finger, and then a third, and God I feel so full. So right.
“Nate.”
He begins a steady rhythm with his fingers, thrusting in and out, his words equally unrelenting as he drives me towards certain insanity.
“I thought you looked so innocent when I saw you outside,” he murmurs, his voice raspy and deep against my ear.
“But as soon as you walked into the club I knew—I knew that this was inside you. This dirty girl who wants to watch strangers and lets me finger fuck her in public.”
My only response is a whimper. A moan. I’m making unintelligible noises low in my throat and it’s taking every ounce of willpower I have to keep my hips still, like he told me to.
Because he told me to, and God do I want to please him.
“Are you still watching?” he asks, letting his thumb slide up to my clit while his fingers continue their steady thrusting, over and over.
As soon as he touches me there, I cry out.
I couldn’t stop the noise if my life depended on it.
It feels so good, so completely perfect, like nothing has ever felt before.
It’s like every nerve ending in my body has been drawn to that single point where he touches me, his thumb circling around my clit.
“Harper,” he says, his voice louder. “Are you still watching?”
I had mostly forgotten about the scene still playing out in front of us. The way he’s touching me, the way he’s making me feel, like I might explode at any moment, is way too distracting. “No,” I tell him. “I’m not watching.”
“I want you to,” he says. “I want you watching them, thinking about what it would feel like if it was you in there, your body spread out for me, your ass bare. What it would feel like to be trapped against the bench, your limbs restrained, waiting for the sting of my punishment.”
Oh, God. I shudder around him and I’m so close, so fucking close already.
“Are you imagining it?” he whispers. “Imagining my hand on you, spanking you? Imagining it happening in a room like that, knowing that people are watching us?”
I’m full on whimpering now, a ceaseless cry from deep inside.
“Picture it, Harper,” he continues. “Picture how it would feel. The restraint. The pain. The pleasure.”
And God, I can picture it. I can see it so perfectly, what we would be like. My gaze locks on the woman’s face, twisted up in pain and pleasure, tears streaming down her cheeks, and I want that. Want it so bad I feel like I might die if I don’t get it.
And I want it from Nate. It doesn’t matter that I don’t know the first thing about him. Doesn’t matter that we’ve never spoken before this night. All that matters is that Nate seems to know my body already, knows exactly what to do to drive me crazy.
But even more important than his magical fingers is the way he seems to know me, know exactly what I need and want, like he sees those secret dark places where I hid my desire for all these years.
“Can you see it?” he whispers.
“Yes. God, yes, Nate.”
“So can I. You would be so beautiful, your ass turning red for me.”
I can’t take this anymore. Can’t take the maddening pleasure radiating from where his thumb circles my clit, can’t take the sound of the woman crying out, over and over, as I watch the man strike her.
Can’t take the picture he’s drawn in my mind, the tantalizing idea that this could be us someday. Can’t take any of it.
“Nate,” I plead.
“Come for me, Harper.”
And I do, immediately, the orgasm barreling through me, the pleasure white hot and overwhelming as it crashes through me, again and again. Everything else disappears, my entire world narrowing to that flash of absolute perfection between my thighs.
And throughout the crash, Nate’s voice, satisfied and raspy against my ear, whispering exactly what I need to hear. “Just like that, Harper. That’s so good. So perfect. Good girl.”
I cling to those words, letting them fill me, letting them push the pleasure even higher.
I have no idea how long it lasts, how much time has passed when I finally come down.
I feel weak, almost dizzy. Boneless and limp.
If Nate wasn’t holding me so tightly, I would have fallen long ago.
I blink, realizing that the scene in front of us has changed.
The man is undoing the shackles, rubbing the skin on the woman’s wrists and ankles.
“This is my favorite part,” Nate whispers.
I turn my face towards him and our eyes meet. If I wasn’t already so breathless, the look on his face would have stolen all of my air. He’s beautiful, intense and dark and so fucking dangerous and all I want is more.
“What is?” I whisper, and he nods his chin towards the glass.
“The after,” he murmurs, kissing me lightly.
I want to ask what that means, but he’s turning me away from the window, running his hands up my arms to my shoulders, bracing me. “You okay?”
I let out a shaky breath. “I think so.”
He grins, his expression undeniably proud. “You did wonderfully.”
I blush, looking down. “I should be saying that to you.”
He lets out a laugh, the sound loud in the suddenly silent room. I realize then that the speakers have been turned off. I wonder if the other rooms are empty now that the show is over.
“Believe me, that was far more enjoyable for me than it was for you.”
I can’t imagine how that could possibly be true but before I can argue he’s taking my hand, leading me towards the door.
As we leave, I glance back over my shoulder.
The man is lifting the woman from the bench, cradling her in his arms. It’s the last thing I see before we’re passing through the door into the hallway.
My thoughts feel chaotic but muted as we walk back to the lounge.
As if the riot of questions and memories is happening far away, in a place where I can observe them without being consumed by them.
I feel tired and a little fuzzy, almost like I’m tipsy, so I focus on the feel of Nate’s hand over mine, the steadiness of him as he leads me forward.
“Harper,” he says, stopping. I look up and realize that we’re near the front mahogany door. “It’s time to go.”
“I…what?”
“It’s late. You should get home.”
I blink up at him, confused. “You…you want me to leave? Now?”
Something in his smile makes me shiver. “If you stay, things will go too far."
“Too far?”
He leans down towards me. “I won't be able to keep my hands off of you, Harper,” he says, his voice low and dangerous. I swallow, my stomach flipping once again. I like the sound of that, to be honest. Yet he thinks it’s a reason for me to leave.
As if he can sense the disappointment coursing through me, he continues. “And I don’t think you’re quite ready yet for what I have in mind.”
I swallow. His eyes are so dark, so intense. I should feel safer here than I did back in that viewing room, now that we’re surrounded by people. But there’s something hidden beneath his words that has a thrill of fear rushing through me.
Then his eyes seem to lighten a little, his face relaxing. “Come on, I’ll walk you to your car.”
“You really don’t have to—”
He silences me with a swift glance in my direction.
I’m realizing that Nate is not a man I’d be eager to argue with.
Holding my hand, he walks me through the door to the lobby.
The same blond woman is there, holding our coats and my purse.
Before I can ask him how on earth she was so prepared for us, he’s slipping my coat on, handing me my purse and pulling me out into the night.
We’re quiet as we cross the sidewalk to the parking lot. The muted feeling in my brain is starting to fade in the cool darkness of night, the swirling questions getting louder.
Did I really just do that? Let a man I barely know show me those things? Touch me like that? Would I see him again? What, exactly, did he mean when he alluded to what he had in mind?
“This is me,” I murmur when we reach my car. I fumble in my purse with fingers that feel suddenly bulky and it takes me a moment to find my keys. He’s silent while I search and when I finally look up, his gaze is on me.
“When will I see you again?” he asks, eyes searching my face. “Will you be here next week?”
I shake my head. “I only had a pass for tonight.”
He waves his hands dismissively. “I’ll take care of that.”
“You'll take care of it? I thought only members were allowed to be here when it isn’t a Public Night.”
His lips tug up even more, smirking now. “Rules like that don’t apply to men like me,” he says cryptically, opening my door. “I can bring guests as I see fit.” He nods at the open door. “Get inside now. Get warm.”
“You want me to be your guest?” I ask, staring up at him.
He leans in so close his lips touch the edge of my ear. “Oh, Harper. You being my guest is only the beginning of what I want.”
Then he kisses me, once, a soft press of his lips against the side of my neck, before pushing me away and into my car. I slide into the seat, staring up at him, feeling unsteady and dumb.
“I’ll call you,” he says, before shutting the door. He waits while I start the car, waits for me to back out. He’s still standing there, watching me, as I pull out onto the dark and deserted street.
And it’s only then that I realize I never gave him my number.