Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
Stella
Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you.
Fuck Tommaso Vizzini.
Douchebag.
From what I’ve heard about her, his mother was surprisingly pleasant today.
She didn’t ask about Papa, so she didn’t piss Mama off.
At least that was a win. But what else is there to do?
The designer shipped my wedding dress here weeks ago, and it’s likely hanging somewhere in Beatrice’s house. I didn’t think to ask.
Since I lived in Chicago, I did the wedding planning via email.
I had to shoot off a shit ton yesterday morning to postpone indefinitely but not cancel the reservations.
One of the Vizzinis can deal with the reception venue that’s insisting upon canceling and keeping the deposit.
I have nothing to do, and I’m not riding the fucking T to get to know my new city.
I can hear Tommy’s voice in my head. I’m not opposed to the subway, but I sure as fuck am not using it as a hop on-hop off tour to learn my way around.
I can also hear his voice if he knew my plans for tonight.
He’s not the only one with the power to get a guest pass at an exclusive club.
After seeing him at my parents’ house yesterday, I was so pissed that I called in a favor.
I took his advice and got a storage unit. I shipped out the boxes yesterday before I went to my parents’ place. I pulled a couple things out of a box and shoved them in my suitcase before resealing it and sending it off. I’m ready for my night out.
I have a raincoat on even though there’s not a cloud in the summer sky.
I need it to cover my outfit. Instead of a cocktail dress on, I have red pleather—a fabric I only wear to clubs—booty shorts on and a top that barely covers my tits and has a single string across the back.
It’s what’s on underneath that’s the kicker.
It’s not that I’m all that confident about my body, but it’s a private rebellion.
Tommy’ll never know, but I do. I skipped the panties and only have pasties.
I picked the most decadent—some even call it depraved—sex club I could find and got myself a weeklong pass. I’ll fuck my way through this week if I want.
It’s nearly midnight, so I slip out of the hotel using the doors leading to the less crowded street than where the main entrance is.
I spot a cab and hurry over to it. My gaze sweeps my surroundings, looking for anyone the Vizzinis posted to guard—spy—both—on my family.
I see no one obvious, but I keep my head down.
I have a cap on that’ll fit in my bag. My short hair is too recognizable, so I need to keep my head covered until I’m a few blocks from here.
When I tell the driver where to go, I give a cross street a block from the club, so I walk the last bit.
I have no trouble getting in with my guest pass.
I already filled out the waivers online, so I follow a Dungeon Master to the locker room.
She shows me around in there and waits while I put my things away.
I took off my raincoat the moment I came inside and left that with the coat check.
I noticed several people watch me as I walked through the club in my revealing clothes and platform heels.
I went all out tonight. I have a big bag with me, so those were in there.
I switched out my ballet flats just before I walked in.
Now, I’m in just my pasties and feeling so self-conscious I want to hide in a locker. I follow the woman back out to the main floor and listen to her explain the different spaces and rules. I enter the area similar to my club back home. It’s where subs can wait for a Dom to approach.
No one’s paying as much attention to your body as you fear.
“Bambi, you won’t sit for a month.”
Fear hits me so hard I nearly fall over. I barely catch myself before I roll my ankle. I refuse to turn around, so I’m unprepared for Tommy’s hands to wrap around my waist and rest tightly on my belly. He presses before sliding them up to cup my tits.
“These seem rather pointless.”
He peels off the pasties before I can stop him. I’m naked except for my hooker heels. He toys with my nipples, and I fight not to shift restlessly. My pussy betrays me. I ache for him. I did the moment I heard his voice, even if it terrified me.
“Do you see all these people watching us?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Do you know how many men want to be me right now?”
“As many as the women who want to be me right now.”
“Maybe. I won’t share you, but since you’re fine parading around here naked, then you won’t mind people watching.”
His right hand grabs my cunt, and I fall back against his chest. He doesn’t test to see if I’m ready. He knows I am. He sticks three fingers in me while his thumb rubs my clit. He kisses along my neck while his other hand massages my breast. I tip my head back against his chest and moan.
“As much as you need to get off, you need it to be me who does it. Did you play with yourself when you got home? Did you get yourself off yesterday?”
“No, Sir.”
“Why not?”
I clam up. I don’t want to admit it.
His hand leaves my breast, and I arch my back. I want it there until I feel his fingers glide between my ass cheeks. Holy erotica.
“You didn’t do it because you want me to. Pissed as you were, you need me to touch you. You’re desperate for it. I know because you’re gushing. Nothing else will satisfy you.”
How the hell does he know that?
“We’re the same, bambi. The only thing that’ll satisfy me is making you come. Everyone here will see how gorgeous you are when you finally do. Then I’m taking you somewhere private. Only I will see my cum drip from your cunt after I finish fucking you.”
“What? Sir, we can’t.”
“Be honest. How miserable have you been the past two days?”
I don’t want to say. When I remain quiet, he smacks my ass.
I still don’t answer. His hand goes to my throat and squeezes.
His other hand works my pussy until I’m writhing in his arms. I won’t give in.
At least, not until he pulls his hand away from my cunt.
Mine flies to his and pushes, trying to guide his fingers back into me.
“Tsk, tsk, tsk, bambi. Answer my question, and I’ll make you come. Refuse me, and I’ll refuse to let you come. Do you want me to edge you again all night? I didn’t expect that.”
“No, Sir!”
I wail my answer and try to curl into his body. I’d turn toward him and seek shelter from my roiling emotions if twisting wouldn’t force his fingers out of me.
“It’s been horrible, Tommy. Don’t do this to me again, please. I can’t take it.”
“Did you just use my name?”
I freeze. I didn’t realize I had. Fucking hell. But his tone is so fucking sexy that I don’t even care that I made a mistake. Unless his punishment is to walk away—which his hard on tells me he won’t—I’ll take whatever he doles out.
“I’m sorry, Sir.” No, I’m not.
“No, you aren’t.”
He works my clit until my knees feel like they’ll buckle one moment and lock the next. I strain to come.
“Please, Sir.”
“Come, bambi.”
He steps around me, so he can see my face as he keeps fingering me. My hands fly up to his shoulders as pleasure radiates from my cunt out through my belly. He grabs my ass as I clench it. He pulls me against him, and I rub my pussy against his cock when he pulls his hand free.
“Thank you, Sir.”
When he brings his lips to mine, I expect a savage kiss like the other night.
This is anything but. It’s tender. Rather than fist my hair, he cups my jaw.
I wrap my arms around his neck and stretch my entire body against his.
He lifts me, and I wrap my legs around him.
He carries me through the club until we reach a room that’s tucked away from everything else.
It’s around a corner from what I guess is the manager’s office.
“Sir, is this your club? The one you own?”
“It is.”
“Then you knew I got a visitor’s pass.”
“I did.”
“And you happened to be here tonight?”
“You know I’m here for you.”
He uses a key to unlock the door, and we step into a room I didn’t expect.
The grandeur doesn’t match the rest of the club.
There’s a massive bed in the center of the room with tons of throw pillows.
There are furry rugs on each side. In the far-right corner is a cage, and in the far-left corner is an adult sized crib.
There’s a spanking bench, a fucking machine, a Saint Andrew’s cross, and a tantra chair.
I take in my surroundings before looking back at Tommy, whose face is so close to mine, our noses practically rub. I’ve never been in a room like this. I’ve been in ones with all the same things, but they’ve never had this room’s ambiance. It’s pure sexual decadence.
“This is a private VIP room very few members can afford. It isn’t my private sex lair.”
I blink several times before looking at the door. I suppose he thought I might assume the worst, since this is apart from the other private rooms, but near his office.
“I’ve never brought a woman in here, bambi.”
He could announce that; instead, he whispers.
It feels like a confession rather than a declaration.
He carries me to the tantra chair and reclines.
His hands on my hips grind me against his cock, and I’m certain I’m leaving a stain over his crotch.
I’m so fucking wet; worse than earlier. He cups my neck and presses me forward.
As he kisses me, I move my hands behind my back, but he captures my wrists and brings my hands to his chest. When we pull apart, he eases my head to his shoulder while his other hand squeezes between us and rubs slow circles on my clit.
It’s actually more soothing than arousing.
I mean, it is arousing, but it’s not driving me crazy. It’s making me relax.
“Stella, I already got you off. I’ll do it again. I’ll do it several times if you want. But we don’t have to have sex for that.”