Chapter 17 #3
My pulse kicks up a notch, the thought of it sending a thrill skittering through me.
My mind scrambles for safe harbor, but finds nothing– because there’s nothing safe about any of this.
Still, I’m too intrigued, too tempted to back out now.
I look around the room, scanning for someone to walk down this dangerous road with.
My eyes land back on the dark-skinned man in the chair, his dick slick and bobbing as the vamp works him with both hands. He looks up and meets my gaze, and the slow, cocky smile that spreads across his face is somehow both infuriating and inviting.
I turn back to James. “Him,” I say, barely above a whisper.
James’ smile is wicked. “Excellent choice.” He calls across the room, deep voice perfectly modulated for maximum attention. “Sylvie, can our donors play together?”
The vamp woman– Sylvie, apparently– snaps her head around, wiping her mouth with the back of a hand. “Of course, my king,” she purrs, rising gracefully to her feet. She nods at the man to follow, and he stands with a lazy grin, cock hanging heavy between his thighs.
James helps me to my feet, smoothing the skirt of my dress with proprietary hands. Then he leans in, lips at my ear. “Show me what you want, mea dulcis. Don’t hold back.”
My heart thunders in my chest as I step away from him and toward the man I’ve chosen. He’s tall, his smile confident, posture loose and inviting.
“I’m Sam,” he greets as I approach, offering me a hand.
“M-Marilyn,” I manage, placing mine in his. His skin is warm, palm calloused in a way that feels safe and anchoring.
“First time at one of these?” he asks, and when I nod, he just laughs, soft and easy. “Don’t worry. You’re in good hands.”
He leads me to the bed in the middle of the room, which has miraculously been vacated thanks to some silent directive from James.
The people that were on it have now found their way to the sofas and armchairs, resuming their activities without missing a beat.
Sam gently guides me to the center of the mattress, coaxing my legs apart and kneeling between them.
“You’re beautiful,” he murmurs as he leans down to kiss me, slow and sweet. I let him, hands trembling as I curl them onto his shoulders, hyper-aware of the weight of people’s stares on us.
None is heavier than James’. Even with my eyes closed, I can feel it– razor sharp and practically searing into my skin.
Sam keeps kissing me, his hands sliding up to cup my face, then down my body.
I shiver when his fingertips graze the bare skin of my thighs beneath the dress, hands slipping up to bunch the fabric around my hips.
He breaks our kiss, glancing down at the exposed lace of my panties with an appreciative smile. “Damn. The king has taste.”
I laugh, more out of nerves than amusement.
Sam lowers his head again, kissing down my neck, over my collarbone, across the slope of my chest. He takes his time, letting me acclimate to the sensation of being so exposed and on display.
His hands are strong and sure, guiding me gently back onto the bed, my body sinking into the soft cushions as he arranges me to his liking.
The sheets are cool and silky against my skin, the room a blur of faces and candlelight and heat. I squeeze my eyes closed and try to focus on the feeling of his lips on my inner thigh, his fingers tracing the edge of my panties, the slow, deliberate way he’s teasing me open.
Then he slides my panties off, quick and easy, and buries his face between my thighs.
The first swipe of his tongue is soft, experimental, and I gasp, hips bucking into the sensation. His fingers sink into the soft flesh of my hips as he licks and sucks, teasing my clit with alarming precision.
He’s good, I’ll give him that– and if this were happening a week ago, I’d probably say he’s the best I’ve ever had.
But I had James’ tongue between my thighs just last night, and now anything else pales in comparison to his expert touch.
I’m hit with a pang of frustration and longing, knowing he’s watching, wishing it was him in Sam’s place.
I open my eyes, craning my neck just enough to see the couch. James is still sitting exactly where I left him, but now Sylvie has taken my spot at his side. Her dress is gone, her body a swath of flawless pale skin… and her hand is in his lap, wrapped around the base of his cock.
My brain short-circuits.
It’s huge– longer and thicker than I imagined, even given the size of the rest of him– and the sight of it in her grip makes my mouth run dry.
I watch as she lowers her head and takes him into her mouth, tongue flicking expertly along the underside. James’ hand sinks into her hair, fingers knotting at the base of her skull, guiding her with forceful pressure.
He’s not looking at her, though. His eyes are on me.
Our gazes lock, and a jolt of electricity shoots through my body, sizzling right where Sam is still working me over.
I can feel the pace of his tongue, the way he alternates slow, teasing licks with fast, hungry flicks.
It’s good– better than good– but it’s nothing compared to the way James’ gaze pins me to the mattress.
I can’t look away. I don’t want to.
Sam’s hand slides up, two fingers pressing inside me, crooking just so as he sucks my clit. The combination is enough to send me spiraling, and when I come, it’s with James’ name on my lips.
He sees it. Of course he does. James smirks, the barest flicker of satisfaction crossing his face as Sylvie doubles her efforts, bobbing her head faster, taking him deeper and deeper until her nose is pressed to his pelvis.
He lets her finish him, spilling down her throat with a guttural growl that I feel in my bones. She swallows, then pops off, licking her lips with a lazy, satiated smile.
“Thank you, my king,” she purrs, wiping saliva from the corner of her mouth with a thumb.
Sam pushes up to his knees, wrapping a hand around his cock and positioning himself between my thighs. I should say no, should stop this before it goes any further… but James is still watching, and I want– god, I need his eyes on me right now more than I need oxygen.
Sam lines up, pressing the tip against me, but just as he’s about to push in, James is there.
He moves so fast I barely register it– just a blur of motion and a sudden firm grip on Sam’s shoulder. He tosses him off the bed like a ragdoll, something fierce shining in those piercing blue eyes as he gazes down at me.
“That’s enough,” James says, voice cold and final.
The entire room falls silent. Every face turns toward us, every pair of eyes wide and alert. For some reason whatever just happened feels big– important in a way I don’t quite understand.
“The party’s over,” James growls, eyes still locked on me. “Everyone out.”