Chapter 10
Ellie
“Remember what I said,” Damien whispers gruffly as we make our way inside the building.
“I know,” I tell him as I snake a hand into the crook of his elbow. “I’m with you.”
“You belong to me,” he corrects me, emphasizing the obvious word.
A chill runs up my spine, and it isn’t from the cold.
As soon as we walk inside the building, I realize he was right.
I’m not going to need a jacket. The warm, humid air hits me, musky both with the scent of hot bodies and what I think is patchouli.
It’s obvious that he keeps the thermostat at seventy degrees to keep the guys sweating and frustrated while also making sure that no woman is tempted to cover up.
If anything, with a little booze, they’ll just keep taking layers off until they are in, well, close to nothing.
“Good evening, Mr. Graves,” a woman at the front podium says. Right inside the door is this woman, a little stand where she is clicking away on an iPad, a security guard, and a red door.
“Liza,” he says, and the guard wordlessly opens the door.
We walk through and it’s obvious that the dark wall must be soundproof because inside is swanky, bass-heavy music.
In the middle of the room is a circular stage where girls in lingerie are doing an aerial show with silks.
It’s like pole dancing but hotter. Honestly, it’s a little mesmerizing.
I can’t even blame the men sitting at the high-top tables surrounding the stage. But we aren’t here for the show.
Damien stops and locks his eyes on mine before leading me towards a dark purple door in the back. This one is blocked by two security guards, one on each side.
“Gentlemen,” Damien says, and they both move aside. We walk through and it leads us into a dark hall, lit every few feet with perched candles.
“Now remember the rules,” he says as we make our way to the other end.
“No more than an arm’s reach. No eye contact with other men. Sultry, but never approachable,” I recite.
“Good girl,” he says. Then he stops, turning towards me. “Oh. And one more thing. Leave the dress alone. You look fucking incredible.”
Then he kisses me.
It’s hot, sweet, rushed, and brief. When he pulls away, his eyes go down to my breasts, and I swallow hard.
“You’re going to make my nipples hard,” I whisper because I can’t manage much else at this point.
“And that would be bad because…?”
“I’m not wearing a bra,” I remind him.
“I’m aware,” he says, and I can tell by the way he is clenching and unclenching his hands that he wants to touch me. I know that Damien is going to get what he wants.
“People will be staring at me,” I tell him.
“So let them stare,” he says grittily, bringing his hands up to my breasts and tracing my nipples with his thumbs. My jaw unhinges just enough for my lips to part. “That’s the whole point. Everyone wants you, but you are mine” he says before he teases my nipples again.
“Fuck,” I gasp, and his lips tip in the corners to form a perfect smirk.
“Alright, Mariposa. Let’s go.”
Damien leads me into the room. It’s a maze of couches and chairs, a bar and tables. Music similar to what was playing in the other room except darker is playing loud enough to drown out people’s conversations, but not loud enough that anyone has to yell.
But that’s not what has my mouth propped open. Upon every surface, from chairs to couches to pillows on the floor, people are all over each other. As in kissing, groping, fingering, licking, thrusting and everything in between.
“Smile, Annelise,” Damien reminds me as we weave in and out and around everyone.
“Of course,” I answer, forcing my mouth shut and my lips into a smile. “Anything you say, Mr. Graves.”
“Damien,” he says.
“Sorry?” I ask.
Damien stops and looks over at me, his face close enough that he could kiss me again if he wanted to. “Call me Damien when we are here.”
“Okay…Damien,” I say, and his lips go a little slack. I swear for a moment that it did something to him.
“Good girl,” he says. “Now let’s get a drink. You’re too rigid.”
So are you, I think to myself, because I very much know that he’s struggling as much as I am not to be turned on right now. His slacks are tighter than they were five minutes ago.
Damien orders himself a rum and soda and then turns to me. “What would you like, Annelise?”
“Something fruity. But sour. A little spice too,” I answer.
“Fun,” the bartender smiles. Then he looks at Damien. “She’s fun.”
My lips quirk in a smile, but my eyes lock on Damien. He smirks as well and tips his head in approval. Test one, check.
A moment later, a guy sets a girl on the bar next to us. Her short dress hikes up around her hips, exposing hot pink panties.
“Good evening, Mr. Graves,” the guy says as he parts the girl’s legs.
“Xavier,” Damien says. “Enjoying the party?”
Xavier looks at the girl who bites her lip. A smirk crawls across his lips, and he slides a finger up inside her apparently crotchless panties. “It’s great. As always.”
We get our drinks, and Damien’s lips tick again before he holds his glass up to Xavier’s, who cheers him with one hand and makes the girl moan with the other. I skip the cheers and take a deep gulp of my drink.
“Good?” Damien asks as I lick my lips, willing the alcohol to ease my nerves.
I take what looks like a slice of pear off the glass and pop it into my mouth. “Delicious,” I tell him.
Damien blinks, and there’s an odd look on his expression for a moment, but it’s gone as quickly as it appeared as the girl on the bar moans louder.
“Come on,” he says, tugging me further into the room.
Around every twist and turn are more people, some just talking, some doing what Xavier and crotchless pantie girl were doing and some doing more. So much more.
My hand tightens on Damien’s arm as we go around another corner that leads us into a private little nook with black velvet curtains. Inside is a white chaise lounge under the glow of pink lights.
“Make yourself comfortable,” he says as he tugs the curtain closed.
I sit down on the chaise lounge and swallow hard, my drink in my hand half finished. Honestly, I want to pound the thing, but I’m worried it won’t look ladylike enough or whatever it is supposed to be doing. But, Jesus, do I need the buzz.
Damien turns around to face me. While he makes his way over to me, our eyes lock and stay that way as he bends down and kisses me. It’s deeper than the other kiss. This one isn’t rushed at all. His tongue traces my lips before finding my own tongue, dancing with it momentarily before he pulls back.
With our eyes still engaged, he lowers to his knees in front of me.
His hand slides inside my dress, and he runs them over my bare knees before kissing them.
Then he pushes the dress up further and kisses higher and higher.
My lip’s part with a gasp and, at the same time, my knees open.
As his mouth goes further and further north, I stop him.
“Wait,” I say, and Damien’s eyes flash up to meet mine.
“What is it?” he asks.
“I just…how do we know no one is going to come in?” I ask.
“What do you mean?” he asks.
“You know…it’s just a curtain. How do they know the room is occupied?” I ask, and he gives me a sly smile. Interesting man, Damien. I feel like I am always just on the brink of amusing him.
He reaches up, grabs my lace panties, and pulls them off in one swift motion. Then he gets up, walks to the curtain, and hangs them outside.
“There. Now people know,” he says with a smile.
Sure. Now you smile. When my panties, which I am pretty sure are wet, are hanging up for all the club to see.
But before I can say or do anything, he is crouching over me, his lips on mine and his palm cupped over my other lips.
“You need to get out of your head, Annelise,” he says into my mouth. “This is part of the job. Coming here with me. Playing the part.”
“Have I not done well?” I ask with concern. I hate doing badly at work. Even though I’ve never had a job like this.
“You’ve done very well so far, but you need to let go a little. Enjoy yourself,” he says as he nibbles on my lip. And as hot as it is, I am still nervous. Even with the curtain pulled, this is still the wildest thing I’ve ever done publicly.
“Sorry, I guess I’m not very good at enjoying myself. Or relaxing. Or any of this,” I ramble.
“Well,” Damien says roughly. “How about you let me take care of that.”
The next thing I know, he’s pressing the heel of his hand against my pussy, making me moan.
“Good girl,” he says, and I feel my face flush red. I seem eager. Too eager. It’s hard not to act this way when I haven’t been touched like this in years. It’s just the heel of his palm. I can’t imagine how I’d react if he used his…
“Oh fuck,” I say with a tremble in my voice as Damien’s fingers tease me, gliding and flicking over every inch of me as if he knows my body already. Every touch leaves a trail of fire.
“There you go. Act like no one is watching. It’s just you and me, Annelise.
No one…else…is here.” His fingers flutter over my clit, and my body tenses up before coming undone, grinding against his hand as I gush all over him and the chaise lounge.
I can’t imagine it’s okay. I mean, other people use this room too, don’t they?
Either way, I can’t think about that right now.
All I can think about is him finger-fucking me until I come more times in three minutes than I have in five years.
But to my dismay, Damien stops at one.
He stands up and undoes his belt. It’s only then that I realize we are really, really doing this. He unbuttons his pants, revealing black briefs underneath, and then he reaches inside, pulling out his rock-hard cock, erect, dripping, and ready.
“You’re so fucking beautiful, Annelise,” he grits out, and I wonder how many women he’s said that to before. It’s not like I am the first girl he’s hired for this role. To him, this is work, and the dirty talk is just part of it.
For me, it’s a job. It’s money that will guarantee no more buttered pasta for me and Luca and the possibility of motherhood for Rachel.
As I watch Damien stroke himself, it’s hard not to get lost in all of this myself.
Even if it’s not real, it can be real for now, right?
After all, if what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, then what happens in the Opal Room (in the Velvet Lounge nonetheless) has to stay in the Opal Room. It’s physics…or something.
As Damien leans forward, I lean back. I hike the dress up around my hips, and he crawls on top of me. As he does, he slides the head of his dick up and down the length of me, wetting it with each stroke.
“Do you want it, Mariposa?” he asks, and something about the way he says the word feels familiar.
“Yes,” I tell him.
“Say it then,” he says, stroking me again, teasing the opening as he does.
“I want it,” I tell him. “I want you inside me. Please.”
Damien groans, and I’m not surprised. Every man, especially dominant men, loves to be begged. Honestly, the way my thighs are pulsing with heat at the thought of that girth inside me, I need it enough to beg.
He doesn’t need me to say it twice and drives himself inside me. It’s hard, hot, rough, and unspeakably thick. After a split second of pain, my body relaxes, wrapping around him tightly and making him moan.
“Fuck me, Annelise. You feel so good.”
“You do too,” I tell him.
“I’m not too much for you?” he asks.
I shake my head.
“Good. Now hold on.”
Damien grinds against me, sliding in and out over and over with enough friction to start a fire. As our bodies meld together, it’s as if we were made for each other, fitting together seamlessly as both of us move with the rhythm that gets us closer and closer to the edge.
“Are you going to come for me?” he asks as I grip my hands around his shoulders. His chiseled muscles strain as he hovers over me, each line of definition running with sweat that smells like cedar and spice and something else. Something familiar.
“Yes,” I tell him. “I will come for you.”
“Good girl,” he says, and he thrust into me faster and faster; harder and harder until the room turns from pink to a blinding white, and we both cry out in ecstasy.
I suddenly don’t care who can hear us. Hell, I don’t even care if someone is watching us.
The only thing I can think about is riding out every last wave of this tide until I crash to the shore in a million drops of pleasure.
Damien stands up and fixes his pants and his shirt before running his hands through his hair. He waits as I stand up and readjust the dress that I was so sure I was going to fall out of. Then he reaches outside the curtain and grabs my panties, handing them to me.
“Thanks,” I tell him with flushed cheeks. As he opens the curtain, I take a deep breath. The room feels fuzzy. None of this feels real.
“Are you ready?” he asks, and after looking at my face, he follows up with, “Are you okay?”
“Yes,” I answer. “I just…I can’t believe I just had sex in a club full of people.”
Damien holds out his arm, and I take it. Then he adds, “You were perfect. But next time, it won’t be as private.”