CHAPTER 26 #2
Over and over again, Jordan caressed the woman, his palms roaming everywhere, exploring her smooth skin, and Jannie realized he was avoiding the obvious places. Jannie could only imagine how it felt to writhe under Jordan’s hands, every erogenous zone stimulated without any relief.
Meanwhile, Nick caressed Jannie, his thumb brushing back and forth over hers, making her fervently wish his thumb were in a different place, the spot that was tingling and throbbing and becoming more soaked by the second.
Jordan now moved close to the woman’s head. Jannie could see her gripping the handholds tightly. How she could keep her hands to herself, Jannie couldn’t fathom. The self-control she displayed was nothing short of phenomenal.
He reached into his other pocket, producing another fistful of pearls.
He said something, and the woman immediately let go of the handholds and raised her arms, putting her hands together.
Jordan quickly wound the string of pearls around her wrists, and then she was laid out for him, at his mercy, vulnerable to anything he wanted to do next.
Jannie tensed, fully expecting Jordan to take out his cock and fuck her or slide it into her mouth.
The thought of watching such an act live and not on a TV screen made Jannie squirm.
Nick immediately took notice and leaned toward her again. “If you’re uncomfortable, we’ll go.”
Leaving would be unspeakably rude, she thought. “We’re right in front.”
“Doesn’t matter.” He paused a beat. “It’s about to get intense. Just say the word if it becomes too much.”
Jannie merely nodded.
A black-clothed man appeared from the side of the stage, carrying a lowball on a small silver tray and two objects concealed by wrapping.
Tipping his head politely, Jordan took the glass, raising it to the audience before he took a long pull of what Jannie assumed was whiskey or bourbon.
The amber liquid caught the light, and Jannie sorely wished she, too, could have a sip.
Jordan replaced the glass, then took one object off the tray and quickly unwrapped it. It flashed in his hand.
A scalpel.
He brought the tip to her lower lip. A bead of red appeared as he pricked her. He said something, she immediately parted her lips, and he bent to swipe the tiny red drop with his tongue.
Jordan then took a sip of whiskey, taking his time to place the glass back on the tray. Then, bending over her, he opened his mouth and let the liquor dribble from his parted lips and into hers.
Her tongue emerged, swiping at the liquid pouring from his mouth and dribbling from the corner of hers, streaming down her cheek to her jaw, which Jordan gripped roughly, seizing her lips in a kiss so carnal and deep that Jannie felt as if she were melting in her seat.
On and on Jordan kissed her, his free hand moving in a languid exploration of her breasts, tugging on each pearl strand, then bending to tongue and roll the beads over her nipples.
Arching her back, she writhed under the assault of his lips.
She no longer held back, whimpering and moaning, murmuring inaudible things every time Jordan looked up to check in with her.
Her breasts rolled as she undulated, her chest rose and fell, and her abdomen pulled in as he kissed his way down, lower, lower, until he reached just below her navel.
His tongue circled there, but he didn’t kiss or touch her any lower.
Neither did he move the sphere, for which Jannie was grateful.
She, of all people, didn’t need a graphic display; the obstructed view amped up the scene’s eroticism.
The woman’s reaction to Jordan pushing a finger into her, her mouth opening, chin lifting, lips parting in a silent gasp, and the motion of his hand working her was enough to arouse Jannie to the point of painful clenching.
Suddenly, Jordan stopped. The woman’s high-pitched mewl pierced the silence, causing him to grin with wicked satisfaction. He said something, and Jannie clearly read his lips: not yet.
Pressing a kiss to the woman’s navel, Jordan then reached for the third object on the tray.
He tore open the pouch, revealing what looked like a folded wipe.
Blue liquid dripped from it as he trailed it inches above her abdomen.
With infinite care, he began wiping her down, gently and caressingly, starting at her throat, causing her to shudder.
Jannie thought to ask, but in the next moment, her nose picked up the sharp, bitter metallic smell of chlorhexidine.
And suddenly, she knew.
Eyes widening, she turned to Nick. “He’s going to cut her,” she whispered.
A curt nod. He searched her face. “How do you feel about that?”
Nervous ribbons swirled through her middle. “I … don’t know.”
She should get up now. Leave. Turn her back on this and never come back here again. But something she didn’t care to analyze whispered from a deep place inside her where she had never even dared to go.
Stay. Watch.
The very thought of what was coming made her vibrate with anticipation.
This, along with Nick’s presence beside her, had every nerve in her body firing.
Onstage, Jordan tossed the cloth back on the assistant’s tray and picked up the glass again. Once more, he took a sip and offered some to his lady, the liquor spilling from his lips into her waiting mouth. God, this was more intimate than if they had been fucking right there onstage.
“Don’t worry,” Nick said. “He knows what he’s doing. He won’t cut anywhere that isn’t safe.”
The scalpel flashed in Jordan’s hand. He said something, and the girl nodded, her adoring gaze never leaving his. Then, pushing the tip against a spot right below her collarbone, he made a bead of crimson appear, trickling in a thin red rivulet down the side of her creamy breast.
Her eyes drifted closed. It was hypnotic and erotic, and the girl’s needy sigh was something between pain and ecstasy.
Again and again, Jordan used her body as his private canvas, carefully using his scalpel to make tiny cut after tiny cut until her upper chest and shoulders sported myriad red trickling rivulets and she looked like a piece of living, demonic art.
The image blurred before Jennie’s eyes, superimposed by one of herself, binding Nick’s beautiful hands with—
What was she thinking?
Left side pocket square.
Nick was, without a doubt, a dom. And she was sitting here fantasizing about doing these things to him.
Zero chance that he would let himself be tied up. And yet, the image of his wrists, crossed and bound, persisted, sending a frisson through her.
Nick squeezed her hand. “Are you OK?”
No.
Jannie nodded, shoved her thoughts away, and focused on the performance.
Electricity crackled in the air. Jordan put the scalpel back on the tray and nodded to the assistant, who quickly walked offstage with it.
Now Jordan was kissing the woman again, one hand pinching her nipple while his other hand was between her legs, kneading, stroking, and even though all Jannie could see was the rhythmic motion, the image was enough to bring her to the edge of passing out.
The girl’s cries grew louder and more desperate by the second.
That was when something vibrated under Jannie.
The seat.
The red seat.
It was vibrating, the intensity rising with the girl’s ascent toward her inevitable orgasm.
Jannie’s eyes widened. Motion EFX?
Her mind flashed between the image in front of her and one of Nick’s bound wrists, her ears filled with the girl’s keening cries, and all around the audience, she heard moans.
Jannie sucked in air but didn’t get enough oxygen. Her head began to spin.
No, no. Too much.
Panic rose in her throat. She didn’t want to come. Not here. Not like this.
Beside her, Nick tore his gaze off the performance. He searched her face, and whatever he saw there made him frown.
He reached under his seat. Immediately, the vibrations under her stopped.
Jannie closed her eyes in relief, and Nick squeezed her hand, slightly inclining his head toward the exit.