Chapter 13 #2
He kisses my nape, relaxes his armlock. “Looks good there?” he asks Tomás.
“Sexy as fuck.” He kisses my thigh then rises.
“Fuck.” The things they’re doing to me. “Fuck me,” I whisper half-choked, again, resisting the urge to squirm and press my thighs together.
“We will also be doing that,” Tomás murmurs.
I’m released, and I stand there, unsure what to do except that half the hall seems to have seen this happen. We’re late arrivals, and I’m the only submissive still fully dressed. Or, I was.
And this jewelry gnaws at my clit. I look to both my men, and before I can say more, Tomás takes the rope.
“This way.”
“When can I take it off?”
“Never. We do it, not you.” Aaron smacks my ass and the crocodile jerks. I swear quietly as we head further into the room.
We’re now level with where that white door lies in the wall to my left—the door Baxter went through. Only a few tempting yards away.
People are slowly going back to their own kinky activities. A girl with a piece of vicious clit jewelry is next to nothing in here. Every step I take makes it swing and pull.
A man hurries up to us. “Sir! Mr. Loxland! Mr. Karsten Drummond wishes to see you in his room. If you’ll follow me, please. You, too, Mr. Zambrano. Not her. She stays here.”
Loxland frowns, shrugs. “Okay, but she needs a minder. A trusted one.”
“Will this take long?” Tomás eyes my clit. “That can’t stay on forever.”
“I’ll get Shawn to watch her.” He clicks his fingers and whistles, raises his arm to summon the big guard from the door, who lumbers through the crowd toward us.
“Stay here, Juniper.” Loxland points at the floor. “Tell him to be aware the clamp has to come off if we’re gone too long. And that we’re off to see Karsten.”
What the hell. I’m a thing to be checked in, like a coat or an umbrella. Though at least they kept my clit thing in mind. I wait, watching them return to the entrance, passing the guard as they do so. They stop for a few seconds and, I guess, maybe, tell him everything.
I’m shifting my feet and trying to ignore the small crocodile as the guard wanders closer, avoiding the exhibits. Plod, plod, plod.
He is so damn slow.
That door though. I’d go to it, if not for my current jewelry, and my hands being tied… Oh hell.
I yank down the dress and run, praying I don’t trip on the trailing rope and faceplant. I should’ve taken off the crocodile clamp, but I haven’t dared to.
Ouch, ouch, fuck, the thing jiggles.
In three strides I’m there, and I awkwardly grab the door handle with both hands.
The handle turns, and I push open the door, hearing the thud of boots and a shout behind me as my tardy guard decides I need catching.
I just have time to see what’s inside. Four people, all naked.
A luxurious bed and a wall of leather and metal things I barely see as I run further in to where all of them are fucking each other, and why don’t I have a photographic memory?
I catalog the dicks as the three men pull out of each other or the woman, and look shocked then angry, then march toward me.
“You didn’t lock that?” snaps the man I don’t know.
Ethan and Baxter were coupling, and Ethan was inside the other man, and he was in the woman, and now I have so many swinging dicks coming at me. And none of them have that scar. I vaguely recognize the woman, who is probably somebody famous.
Oops.
I back away, only to have myself picked up around the waist and be deposited on my feet outside the door.
I stagger and barely catch myself before I fall. The croc bites me, again, and I place my palms on the dress and feel the metal hardness through the fabric. Then I swear as I realize I still don’t dare to remove it.
Their disapproval matters, Tomás and Loxland’s, and I’m not able to calculate why that is so in the middle of…of this…
Fuck-up?
The guard has his head in the partly open door.
“Apologies, sirs, madam. She will be taken care of,” my burly guard says to them, somewhat patiently, considering. Then he pulls the door shut and turns to me.
“Sorry?” I madly flap my tied hands as I take a step back, as if I’m hoping I can banish him with some magic spell.
He places his large, meaty hand on my head. “Kneel.”
Getting down on my knees when I can’t use my arms to balance with is difficult, but I manage it. The tiles are hard on my knees. I try to look chastised and sorry. What is his name?
I whisper, “Sorry, Shawn.”
“You stay there, girl. I’m not in charge of what happens to you, but you stay right there. Move again, and I will tie you to that wall.” He points at the mural wall, where people are still bound and being whipped.
He turns side-on to me and starts talking into his wrist. Though his tone is even, I gain the impression from that one raised, thick eyebrow over the eye he keeps on me, that he is not happy.
If I were him, I guess I wouldn’t be either, but I’m not him, I’m me, and I’ve ruled out two of my suspects. I mean, logically one of them might have been there with Riley, might’ve been the man without the scar, but seeing their close relationship with each other, I doubt it.
The problem is, I still have hundreds more cocks to check, and now I’m wondering if Mr. Loxland will give me the other clues.
Nathan’s already ruled out, and not just because his face and dick were visible at times in the video.
I ruled him out because, before I buried him, I saw his dick when I cut it off with the shovel and stuffed it in his mouth.
I wasn’t looking for scars then, but I am sure it had none.