25. A Night at Marquis
A Night at Marquis
Sam
The guilt about not having a gift for Q threatened to overwhelm her.
She’d asked her dad for money for Christmas, rather than anything else, and she was waiting to get it before buying Christmas presents.
Sure, she’d baked some cookies for him, along with Morgan and Noelle, and even ended up making some for Amy, Marissa, and Carolyn, but that didn’t count. Not really.
He was her boyfriend. She was supposed to be able to do more. She wanted to do more.
Having him pay for a night at Marquis and give her a gift on top of that made her feel as though she was failing. As if she was deficient. She knew that wasn’t his intention, which made her feel even guiltier because her emotions were ruining his kind gesture.
Instead of letting herself spiral completely out of control, Sam opened the box he’d handed her.
It was a very light box and not very big, but she couldn’t even begin to guess what was inside, other than it was probably some kind of sex toy.
Since they were at Marquis and he’d said it was also for him, that was the only thing that made sense.
So, when she opened the box and saw red, lacy fabric, her eyebrows went up.
“Go to the bathroom and put them on,” Q ordered. The firm tone he used sent an instant stab of lust straight through her.
“Yes, Sir,” she replied, with only a little sass.
Scooting around the booth, she paused when their server suddenly appeared again.
They put in their orders, then she took off to the bathroom.
It didn’t take her more than ten seconds of actually handling the underwear to realized there was something in the crotch of them—something hard that had been sewn into the fabric and nestled right against her clit when she put them on.
If these aren’t remote controlled, I’m a millionaire.
Suspicion was confirmed the moment she walked out of the bathroom, and she was hit with a blast of vibration directly against her clit.
It was hard enough, startling enough, she immediately stopped walking, putting one hand out to catch herself and lean against the wall for support.
Almost as soon as her fingers touched the wall, the vibration stopped, and she looked up.
She didn’t have a perfect view of Q in their booth, but good enough for her to see his slightly guilty but sexually intense expression.
Guilt because she doubted he’d meant to make her stumble, and she knew exactly what the rest of his expression was for. Even though he felt a little bad about it, he still liked that he’d stopped her in her tracks.
Truthfully, she didn’t hate it.
Her body was already humming and buzzing from that brief stimulation, as though all of her senses had woken up all at once and were ready to party. As she stared at Q, he lifted one hand and crooked his finger.
Damn if she didn’t want to go running to him.
Gathering herself, she straightened and tugged on the hem of her skirt, pulling it down a little, before restarting her walk back to their booth.
After a few steps, she felt a low hum in her panties, right where the hard vibrations had hit her before.
The much lower stimulation and half-expecting it kept her from stumbling again.
As she made her way across the floor, the vibration slowly increased, though not nearly to the initial level that had blasted her. Heat swept over her in waves, and by the time she made it to the booth, she was flush with hot need and wouldn’t have minded another surge like the first one.
Of course, Q stopped the vibrations entirely, smiling at her the entire time.
Sam glared at him.
“Having fun?” she asked, sliding into the booth beside him and trying not to feel awkward as she scooted.
Was there anything less sexy than scooting around a booth in a leather miniskirt and a corset that didn’t allow her to bend?
She should have thought this through a little better, but she’d been thinking about how good she looked standing.
He lifted his arm so she could scoot up next to him, which she did, despite her sexual frustration. Maybe because of her sexual frustration. It turned her on that he was controlling her orgasm, even as it drove her nuts.
“I was going to ask you the same question,” he replied, eyes twinkling merrily.
Jerk.
He was saved by their food arriving. Sam stuck her tongue out at him as she shifted back to her spot, so he could have both hands back—which he needed to cut his steak.
Dinner was delicious. Q didn’t turn on the remote, so she could eat in peace, which she appreciated.
They flirted and bantered and talked about their weeks.
The only thing she held back from him was the job stuff.
So far, the only place to reach out was the Ohio job, so she’d scheduled the interview.
But she didn’t want to tell him about the interview.
She didn’t know if she would take the job if it was offered to her, but she felt guilty even considering it. So, she didn’t want to talk about it and ruin their night together. Granted, she had a different excuse every night for not bringing it up, but she couldn’t make herself say the words.
She wasn’t sure he would understand. She was fairly certain he would want to fix things for her.
It hadn’t escaped her notice that Q paid for as much as he could whenever they were together, which she didn’t feel comfortable with, but she tried to remember that it wasn’t always about her. Just like with Morgan and Noelle.
If he wanted to do certain things with her, like going out to dinner or ordering in, and was willing and able to pay for it—something she knew she would want to do if their positions were reversed—she did her best not to argue against everything.
Though she did prefer it when they weren’t spending money or she could pay for herself.
For all that she’d occasionally wished for a Sugar Daddy, she was now living the proof that she would make a terrible Sugar Baby. So, there went that dream.
It wasn’t until after dessert was finished that Q put his hand in his suit jacket pocket, and she felt the vibrator hum to life again. Now that she was sitting down, it pressed even more insistently against her swollen clit, and the resurgence of stimulation made her squirm.
“Everything okay?” Q put his arm along the back of the booth and scooted closer, so the sides of their bodies were pressed together.
“Fine. Everything’s fine.” Jerk. She didn’t know why she didn’t just admit that he was driving her wild, but something about his smug expression made her want to pretend otherwise. Q’s chuckled, which was even more infuriating.
Their server appeared to clear away their dishes and give the table a quick wipe down, and as they were doing so, Q hit another button on the remote and the vibrator pulsed against her clit instead of the steady hum she’d been experiencing.
Sam bit down on her lower lip to keep from moaning, though she didn’t know why. No one here was going to judge her, least of all the server who had probably seen a hell of a lot more without batting an eyelash.
But just like when she’d answered she was ‘fine,’ some part of her balked at showing too much of her reaction.
Her pride was a thing of wonder.
The lights dimmed and Q’s smile widened.
“Looks like the show is about to start.” His arm shifted to drape over her shoulders, his fingers hanging down so the tips brushed against the top of her breast. Under other circumstances, the barely-there touch might not have even registered or felt ticklish, but with her senses already hyperaware, he might as well have pinched her nipple. It had nearly the same effect.
Sam sucked in a deep breath, which made her breasts lift in the corset, but Q didn’t take advantage to touch her more firmly, which was maddening.
Pressing her thighs together, she tried to get more stimulation for her poor clit, which was being tortured by the gentle pulsing vibration of the panties.
The room went fully dark, indicating the start of the show, and Sam took another deep breath. Hopefully, the show would give her something else to focus on other than the throbbing need between her legs.
The room lightened just enough to see people moving in the darkness, bringing in equipment.
In the center of the stage, she could see two people motionless—one on their knees and the other standing beside them, hand resting on her head.
The lights slowly began to come up again, until everything on the stage was clearly visible, including the two people.
Holy shit, Mitch’s dad is HOT.
Damn. If that was what Mitch was going to look like in thirty years, good for Domi.
The Dom, Master Gavin as he’d been named in the program, stood in the center of the dais, drawing attention naturally.
He was tall, well-muscled, and had a full head and beard of silver hair, sprinkled through with some black.
He was bare-chested, showing off the curls of grey on his chest, as well as several tattoos on his arms, and wearing a kilt.
“Do you think he has an accent?” she whispered, without thinking about who she was sitting next to.
She could practically feel Q’s frown. His hand lifted and gave the top of her breast a little slap. Simultaneously, the vibrator on her clit went from a steady pulsing to intermittent, so she could no longer anticipate how intense the vibration would be or when it was going to hit.
Oops.
She hadn’t meant to make him jealous, but who could resist a Scottish accent?
Kneeling beside him, Mitch’s mom, Leah according to the program, was as blonde as Mitch was, very pretty, and appeared to be completely comfortable in her own skin.
She was wearing nothing but a sheer slip.
Yeah, Sam could understand why Mitch would want to miss this show, but she was glad she was here to watch it.
In the center of the stage was a piece of equipment she’d seen before, but never in a dungeon or sex club. Trust kinksters to pervert an inversion table.
“Up, lass.”