Chapter 18
Ellie
I’ve never bought garters.
I’ve never worn garters. I guess I never saw myself as one of those women.
Those women that add to the already uncomfortable experience of lingerie wearing by adding pointless straps simply for the sake of looking more promiscuous.
Yet, for some reason, I trust Jocelyn’s judgment, and I go to a boutique after work to snag a pair (A pair?
A set? I don’t even know how to correctly define them) of red garters to pin to my panties for the second half of my workday.
What even is my life?
After Rachel picks up Luca from the house, I rush to my room to slip back into the lingerie, spritzing it with perfume so it’s fresh again, with the added accessories. Then I throw on a red silk gown and my peacoat and head to the hotel, following the same protocol as before.
The black SUV pulls up.
Damien gets out, his eyes sweeping over me as he opens the door for me. I slide into the back seat, immaculate, and expensive. He gets in on the other side and we drive to the Opal Room in silence.
Once we are there, I wait. But so does he.
“Take your jacket off,” he tells me. So I do. I’m feeling pretty good about the red gown, and I assume he will too. After all, it’s from the wardrobe he provided for me.
But his expression is not what I was expecting. He looks disappointed.
“Take it off,” he tells me, and I freeze.
“Take–” I stutter.
“The dress,” he snaps as if I should know exactly what he means. “Take it off.”
An incredulous laugh actually bubbles up from my throat. “You want me–”
“I believe I was very clear that you are to wear the lingerie from earlier for tonight’s outing,” he states.
“And I am,” I snap back. Because he has to be fucking crazy if he thinks I am going to just undress and walk from this car to that building in nothing but see-through lingerie. “Under the gown.”
Nothing about Damien’s demeanor changes. It’s still just as cold and demanding as before. The tension in the car is enough to make me sweat and send a chill up my spine all at the same time.
“I told you to wear the lingerie. I did not mention your wearing anything else. Now take off the dress.”
My heart is slamming into my ribcage, but I still can’t imagine even in my darkest, wildest fantasies that he is being real right now. “You want me to parade in front of everyone outside of the club in nothing but my underwear,” I say.
With a face of stone, he reaches back and produces a long, black fur coat.
“You’ll be wearing this. Until we get inside.
Then you will check your coat in and wear nothing but the lingerie as discussed.
If you aren’t willing to comply with the description of the job, Miss Bates, you are free to use the safe word and be on your way.
You’ll be gifted a generous severance package after signing an NDA. ”
“Jesus Christ,” I let out. I did not come this far only to come this far.
That and I don’t like that he feels like he’s winning.
If he wants me to wear nothing but the panties, then nothing but the panties he will get.
Because I do look good in them. Hell, I look fucking phenomenal in them.
And I will not look insecure right now. Not after everything I’ve been through.
I tug at the thin straps of the dress and pull it down over my body.
Luckily, this one has no zippers. It’s just bunchy and stretchy, and I’m able to shimmy out of it without even getting out of the car.
I glance at the driver, but he keeps his eyes locked on the windshield, zero expression on his professional face. Wise man.
I hold up my hands, glaring at my boss. “Happy?” I ask, and he swallows hard.
I’ve learned in the short time I’ve been around him that when he swallows like that and his jaw tenses in the corners, it means he’s fighting for composure.
While I’ve never seen him actually lose composure, that little jaw tick hints that somewhere under his granite exterior, he may in fact be human, pulsing blood, beating heart, empathetic emotions and all.
Damien doesn’t answer, and I don’t expect him to.
Instead, he gets out of the car and walks around to my side.
Then he opens the door, holds up the fur coat and waits for me to step into it.
I have to admit; fur coats aren’t really my vibe.
Then again, neither are gentlemen’s clubs.
All of this feels like a fantasy, and considering the unromantic day-to-day life of being a poor, single mom, I can’t bring myself to walk away from it.
Once we are inside, Damien delivers on his word.
He removes the coat, letting it slide down my body before checking it in at the counter.
He takes my hand and guides me through the door.
The warm air smells like the inside of a Bath and Body Works store and lingers in the air as we walk through the stage room.
I watch the girls slowly twirl and bend around the poles.
I’m not dressed much differently from them right now.
And that’s when I notice, as we weave through the tables, many of the glances men are giving me aren’t much different from the ones those girls are receiving either.
“Eyes on me,” Damien says sharply, and I snap my attention back to him. Then, his tone softens a little, surprising me.
“I like the heels,” he says.
I almost tell him that Jocelyn lent them to me, but decide against it.
“Thank you,” I say sweetly, and I feel his hand clench in mine.
Word by word, step by step, pouty glance by pouty glance, I’m learning all of this. I’m learning how to act, how to look, how to stand, how to walk, how to speak. I’m learning Damien Graves. And let me tell you…it’s the sexiest language I’ve ever spoken in my life.
I don’t have to look at the men to know their eyes are on me. I can feel their eyes on my skin. I can sense their hard cocks in their slacks. I can smell the whiskey on their breaths as their lips part as I walk past.
The bra is nearly see-through, lacy and hot red, lifting my tits just enough to showcase them.
The panties are a thong, cut high on the sides, and cling to the fullest part of my hips.
They plunge down to cover my pussy, which I always make sure is well-manicured for him.
Opaque tights have garters attached to them, and the garters are tight enough to move with me.
I am wearing less for this entire room than I typically wear for one lucky man. And it feels…hot.
I keep my eyes on him. And when I do let them sweep the room, they do just that.
No eye contact unless it’s at other women, women who know Damien and want Damien and can’t have Damien.
Any time I feel too much attention in my direction, too many eyes on my peeking nipples and exposed ass, I run my fingertips up his arm, smiling at him from the side.
Damien’s lips tip in the hint of a cocky smirk, and I tuck that little piece of satisfaction in my pocket.
.. that yes, I am good at this. I belong here with the dancers and the women who are bending and leaning and laughing and drinking.
As we make our way into the Velvet Lounge, a room where only the elite can go, the bar is high.
Nearly unreachable. Everyone in this room is made of gold, and no one on the outside has enough money.
As we make our way through the hall, I assume we are going to the bar, but we pass it.
“No drinks tonight?” I ask softly, keeping a smile as I say the words. Even though no one but Damien can hear what I am saying, I don’t want anyone thinking I am anything less than satisfied, simply by being on his arm.
“Not tonight,” he tells me. “I am thirsty. But not for alcohol.” That right there is enough to make my mouth dry and my pussy wet, but then he throws a cherry on top. “I also want you to feel everything. No numbness. No distraction.”
Fuck me.
Literally. All I am thinking right now is that I need this man to fuck me. But as we head around the same loop as we did the last time we were here, we stop before getting to the back room. At first, I am a little worried, and I actually lose face for a moment.
We are standing next to a black velvet couch.
There are people all around us. Some are kissing, some are talking, some are drinking.
But all of them have their eyes on us. I follow Damien’s lead as he takes my hands, guiding me to sit down.
Then he leans over me, covering my mouth softly with his.
After kissing me for an exhilarating yet confusing moment, his lips make their way down to my neck.
I tuck my face down near his ear to hide my concern. “We aren’t going in the back room? The one with the curtain?”
“Not tonight,” he says into my neck, making the skin sizzle. “Tonight I am showing everyone that you belong with me. You belong to me.”
My heart speeds up in my chest at what he’s implying. It’s one thing to be dressed like this for everyone to see. It’s another for the room to see me as I come undone. But Damien can sense my insecurity, and he brings his mouth close to my ear.
“We are the only ones here,” he tells me. “There is no one and nothing else in the room. So close your eyes and let it consume you.”
“I’m trying,” I stutter. But as he nibbles on my neck, his hands caress down my breast, his fingertips brushing over my nipple. I gasp at the touch. Whether my head is racing, my body is simply reacting.
And my body wants him.
I turn my head so that his mouth will cover mine.
I nibble on his lip as his tongue finds mine, and he pulls back enough to tease my nipples more.
Even though it’s through the lace, it’s enough to drive me wild, and my body shutters with every flick.
My eyes open enough to see that people are watching, and I realize that’s all part of it.
Voyeurism is a thing, and if I’m being honest, it’s pretty fucking hot.
As he teases me more and more, I find myself voluntarily leaning back on the couch. “Good girl,” Damien growls, and I am pretty sure everyone can hear. But I’m finding that’s all part of it too. A sexy part of it.
My legs part and Damien kisses down my torso, hovering over my aching pussy.
I want to feel more than his hot breath.
I want the softness of his tongue. The friction of his sucking.
The flicking and licking and everything else.
I want it so much that my hips are literally bucking up towards his mouth as he hovers, making me wait. Making me ache. Making me drip.
I hear a woman moan softly off to the side, but no one is touching her. She is literally aching for my orgasm.
“Good girl,” Damien says again and finally, finally his mouth covers me.
Again, he doesn’t even bother to move my panties aside.
He is literally just groping me through the lace with his tongue.
His teeth gently brush against my mound and I moan, grabbing the edges of the couch to control myself.
I am saturating my panties, and he is sucking, licking, flicking and lapping me up as I soak his mouth.
I’m going to come.
In front of all these people, out in the open, legs spread, completely exposed, I am going to come.
And I do.
I gush into Damien’s mouth and cry out as the orgasm overtakes me, not giving a shit if people are watching. Apparently, my orgasms no longer care about things like that. And suddenly, neither do I, at least not where Damien Graves is concerned.
Once I am finished, Damien helps me off the couch and we make our way over to the bar.
“I thought you said no drinks tonight,” I say with as much composure as I can muster. Honestly, I am struggling right now. Even walking has become a laborious task on its own.
“I think you’ve earned it, Miss Bates. You’ve been a very good girl tonight. A very…obedient…girl. And there are incentives for obedience.”
I don’t know if he’s talking about the gin and tonic I am about to indulge in simply to get my land legs back…or the public orgasm he just gifted me with. Either way, I’ve learned something about myself tonight.
I have a kinky side. And now that it’s come out of wherever it’s been hiding, I don’t think it’s going to go back in its cage any time soon.