Chapter 29
AOIFE
My heart hammers as we step into a lift. Dom’s eyes lock on mine and raw sexual need thrums between us like a live wire as we zip down into a secret underground lair.
‘You’re giving me that look again,’ he murmurs.
‘Which look?’
‘The one that screams that you’re desperate for me to kiss you.’
‘Maybe I am.’ I’m desperate for a lot of things right now.
‘Patience, princess.’ His palm glides lower to squeeze the globe of my ass cheek.
The doors part to display one word painted on the black marble in an elaborate silver italic font—Reveal.
‘I can’t believe this is Sean Beckett’s club,’ I whisper. ‘Do he and the princess come here?’
Dominic quirks an eyebrow.
‘No pun intended.’ I shake my head.
‘They do, but not so much now they’re all loved up. You’ll meet him, but not tonight.’ He ushers me along the dark marble corridor. There’s an opulent reception area manned by four security guards and one very attractive hostess, all of whom greet my fiancé with the utmost of respect.
‘Mr Kincaid.’ The men nod as if he’s royalty.
‘Evening.’ He pulls me closer, wrapping an arm around my chest. ‘This is my fiancée, Aoife.’
The hostess’s eyes widen as they dart between Dom and I. ‘Congratulations.’
A door behind the opulent marble desk opens, and a stern-looking woman steps out. She has sharply bobbed red hair, the same shade as the frames of her designer glasses. ‘Dominic Fucking Kincaid.’ Her expression transforms into a full-blown grin. ‘Where the fuck have you been hiding?’
‘Between Aoife’s legs, mostly.’ He fires her a wink, then turns to me. ‘Aoife, this is Larissa; she runs the club.’
He looks to Larissa again, ‘Larissa, meet my fiancée, Aoife.’
‘You mad fucking bastard.’ She beams as she rushes towards us, squishing us into a hug. ‘You always said when you met the right one you’d know.’
Ahh. So that’s what Mama K meant when she said we’re like two peas in a pod.
Worryingly, I’m beginning to think she was right.
‘I did, didn’t I?’ He disentangles us from her arms. ‘Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to introduce Aoife to our world.’
Larissa looks at me. ‘Nobody gets in without signing an NDA.’ Frown lines crease her forehead. ‘But given you’re engaged to the man who oversees the club’s security, I assume you’re aware what would happen if you were to breathe a word of what goes on in here to anyone.’
‘Larissa,’ Dom’s voice is weighted with warning.
‘Okay, okay.’ She raises her palms in surrender, and a smile returns to her face. ‘Welcome to the dark side. In you go.’ She motions to another set of double doors. ‘The champagne is on me. Congratulations again.’
‘Thanks,’ Dom says, nudging me towards the entrance.
He presses his thumb against a fingerprint recognition pad, and the doors slide open.
‘This is the main bar.’ He sweeps a hand around a massive, dome-shaped room.
There’s an opulent oval shaped bar in the centre, stocked with wine, spirits, champagne, and Beckett’s Black Label, naturally.
Plush, high, scarlet bar stools flank the obsidian marble-topped bar.
Leather booths and benches are dotted throughout the entire room, several of which are occupied by couples.
The men are in suits. The women are in BDSM gear or lingerie, sipping champagne.
A crowd of eight men gather in one of the booths.
Some wear masks, Venetian ones, the details ranging from sultry to downright scary.
Every single patron bows their head respectfully towards us.
I can’t work out if Dom’s some sort of king down here, or if he’s feared because of his reputation on the streets. Either way, it’s clear he commands everyone around him.
I scan the room, soaking it all in until my eyes land on a couple in the corner of the room.
She’s naked, bar a tiny ebony silk scrap between her legs, six-inch stilettoes and a diamond encrusted collar around her neck.
Her long black hair is swept up into a high, sleek ponytail, and her lips are painted a shocking shade of crimson.
She’s on her knees for the man in front of her.
He reaches a hand to her cheek, stroking it with a tenderness that contrasts the entire depraved scene.
My mouth drops open. Dominic smirks beside me as he guides me to the bar. ‘You need a drink.’ It’s not a question.
I swallow the saliva flooding my tongue as he pulls a stool out for me. He orders two glasses of champagne from the impeccably dressed server, who’s pouring drinks like nearly naked women are the norm—I suppose in here, they are.
‘Am I overdressed?’ I sweep a hand in front of me.
‘You won’t be for much longer.’ His pupils burn into mine.
‘Do they arrive like that, or are there changing facilities?’
‘There are submissive changing rooms. Aftercare rooms. Voyeur rooms. There’s a main stage for event nights. Fourteen private suites for private fun and two Saint Andrew’s crosses.’
‘Fuck.’ I bite my lip, accepting the glass he hands me.
‘Yeah, we do that here a lot.’ He winks.
‘In this room?’ One stolen glance at the woman on her knees again answers my question.
Her head is bobbing up and down over her partner’s lap, her lips wrapped around his engorged cock.
Their eyes are locked on each other’s and the way he looks at her is with utter adoration.
My nipples tighten beneath my dress as I stare at the frankly debauched scene in front of me.
The men in the booth saunter over for a better look.
I take a large mouthful of champagne. Dominic watches me as I drink it all in.
‘The booths and benches are a free for all,’ he tells me.
‘The bar,’ he taps his thick fingers on the marble counter, ‘is off limits to anyone but Sean and Layla.’ He slides onto the stool beside me, his dark eyes boring into mine.
‘Are you okay?’ Concern laces his tone. ‘It’s not… too much?’
My eyes dart to the couple again. My view is restricted by the men congregating closer. ‘No.’ I take another drink. ‘It’s utterly fucking erotic.’
His full lips lift into a wolfish grin as he leans closer and presses his mouth to mine.
Heat floods my sex. My pussy pulses, desperate for friction.
His fingers trail over my waist, blazing over my breasts.
It’s nothing compared to what’s going on across the room, but it’s still more than what’s publicly acceptable anywhere else.
‘Wait at that booth over there.’ He points to one of the few unoccupied ones. ‘I’ll be back in a minute.’ He drains his champagne, then stands.
‘Where are you going?’ My voice cracks with need.
‘You’ll see.’
I glance around the room.
‘Don’t panic, sweetheart. No one in here will touch you. Not now they know you’re mine.’ He stares at me for a long beat.
‘Yes, sir,’ I stand, taking my half empty glass of champagne to the booth.
A large rectangular table punctuates the centre.
Two high-backed leather benches are positioned either side of it.
I slip into one of them and wait. Dom struts across the room.
Everyone he passes nods respectfully before he exits through another glass door.
Several moans of what sounds like approval ripple from across the room, and I gather the submissive brought her dom to orgasm. I writhe on the seat, squeezing my thighs together.
So much for me wanting to carve out a respectable life for myself.
Everything I want right now is dirty and debauched.
I barely recognise the woman I’ve become, but I don’t dislike her. No, I’m kind of in awe of her.
Dom strides back into the bar, his long, powerful legs eating up the distance between us. He’s carrying some sort of chrome bar. My stomach spins with both anticipation and raw, unfiltered desire.
His eyes glint as he stops two metres away from the booth. ‘When I said wait at that booth, I meant lie up on the table—naked.’
My lips pop open. I stand, slowly, my legs trembling beneath me as I scan the room. The crowd has dispersed around the couple; greedy gazes search hungrily for their next fix.
‘Loose the dress, sweetheart,’ Dom demands, pulling the pole wider.
I wet my lips, glancing at the many eyes drifting to us.
‘Eyes on me, Aoife,’ he booms. This isn’t the man who holds me in bed every night. It isn’t the man who brushes my tears away. Or the same man who so tenderly cleaned my cut feet.
No, this is a different Dom. Darker. Dominant. Devastating.
And I fucking love this version of him.
‘Yes, sir.’ I slip out of my dress, unashamedly shimmying it down my body.
My breasts spill free. Several hisses circulate.
Suited men drift closer, but I don’t look at them.
My focus is firmly on my fiancé. On the way his pupils blow dark and wide as they roam over my bare flesh.
On the way his suit pants are bulging with an unspoken promise.
I don’t think he’ll fuck me here.
I’d love him to.
But if I’ve learnt one thing about him, he’s a man of his word. He said he won’t have sex with me unless I give myself to him for real, and I don’t doubt he means it.
The dress drops to the floor, and I step out of it.
‘On your knees,’ he commands, and I lower myself to the polished marble floor. It should be so degrading.
It should be.
But it’s hotter than hell.
I watch his black, shiny shoes approach.
He towers over me. ‘On the table.’
‘Yes, sir.’ My breasts ache for his touch. I’m so turned on I can’t think straight, dizzy with desire. I stand and back up onto the table, perching on the edge. We’ve attracted a crowd, a fact that sets a fresh wave of arousal flooding the lace between my legs.
‘Spread your legs, sweetheart,’ His eyes drop to my crotch.
‘Yes, sir.’ Slowly, I part my thighs.
‘Pull your lingerie to the side. Show me your perfect cunt.’ His irises flare.
I pause.
Fuck. This is so wanton, so fucking animalistic, yet I wouldn’t be anywhere else in the world right now.
Our eyes lock.
His falter.
He thinks I won’t do it.
‘Yes, sir.’ I reach for the lace and yank it to the side, showing him, and everyone else, exactly how aroused I am.
His lip tips up and approval lights his eyes as he closes the space between us.
‘Such a good girl,’ he growls and my nipples furl even tighter.
I crave his praise like a damned drug. He tears the lingerie from my body, stuffs it in his suit pocket, then drags a finger slowly over my slit.
I moan, melting into his touch, but all too soon he tears it away.
He draws his finger to his lips, turning to the audience we’ve gathered.
‘Fucking sublime,’ he tells the men behind him, before turning his attention back to the chrome bar, pulling it wider, and I see it for what it is—a restraint to hold my legs open.
As if I’d want to close them when he’s staring at me like he’s about to devour me.
He secures a leather strap around each of my ankles. ‘Lie back,’ he orders.
I do as I’m told with my heart hammering in my chest.
I never knew I had this in me, whatever this is. A desire so primal, I’d do anything he said right now because I trust him to take care of me in every sense of the word.
Dominic towers over me, surveying my pussy with satisfaction, then lowers his face to my sex. Instinctively, I thread my fingers through his hair.
He tuts, then twists his head to our audience. ‘Looks like I’m going to need some help restraining her.’
Kinky fucker.
He wasn’t joking. Everything he described would happen is happening.
Two men step forward. Dom assesses them for a beat, then nods. They round the booth to the top end of the table and take a wrist each, pinning it to the table. Their hungry eyes scorch my skin.
‘You can touch her tits,’ he tells them.
‘Worship them, tease them, but don’t even think about touching this.
’ He lowers his mouth to my pussy and rolls his tongue over my clit.
My hips arch in response. ‘This is mine.’ His big black eyes meet mine again, almost daring me to challenge him. Daring me to defy him.
I can’t.
Because right here, right now, I am entirely his—in every sense of the word.
He doesn’t break eye contact as he resumes lapping at my slit like he can’t get enough.
Hands and mouths tease my breasts, circling and sucking my tight, needy nipples.
But I don’t look at them. Dominic Kincaid is the only man I see.
The man orchestrating the most transcendent experience of my life.
Every inch of my skin hums and crackles with the promise of raw, ethereal pleasure. My thighs are trembling like a newborn fawn as my release builds deep inside my core. I’m nowhere near ready for this to be over, but there’s no way I can last.
When he pulls the chrome bar wider again and sinks his tongue into my centre, I erupt.
My orgasm rips violently through me, shocking, euphoric, and utterly debilitating.
Dominic continues to lick long after the mouths and hands leave my breasts.
He presses a tender kiss to my sensitive clit and crawls up onto the table until we’re eye to eye.
‘You did so good, baby. You’re a fucking natural. Welcome to my world.’ His lips meet mine and I taste myself on him. ‘All these men, they all want to fuck want’s mine.’
‘Please, sir,’ I beg. I need him inside me. Need him to fill me up, because no matter how many orgasms he delivers, I’m still not sated, because what I really crave is him.
He frowns. ‘Please sir, what?’ he glances around. Most of our audience has drifted away, though some continue to stare in open fascination.
‘I need you to fuck me,’ I whisper.