Chapter 10
SETH
I push back from my desk and grab my phone on the way to the large window overlooking Shaunessy Street.
Erich Pointer at Point Ops is pissing me off.
He’s been quietly courting Dumond and Kerrick Enterprises, Nove’s premier client, for months.
And now I hear that Dumond and Kerrick are going to give Point Ops a mission?
Fuck that.
I open my contacts and find Charles Dumond, CEO of Dumond and Kerrick. I tap his name, perhaps more forcefully than necessary.
“Seth,” he says by way of greeting. “How are ya? It’s been a while.”
“I’m great, Charles. Just great. Or I was, until I found out you’re planning to send a team from Point Ops up to that job in Alaska.”
In a sheepish voice, he says, “Oh, now, Erich Pointer really thought they would be perfect for the job.”
“Of course he would say that.” I aim for a patient tone, trying not to sound as exasperated as I feel. “But you know they go in like a serial killer with a machete when a laparoscopic operation is more suited. Are you sure you want that?”
Dumond and Kerrick Enterprises specializes in environmental explorations, combining them with high-stakes technology. This often involves international politics and some elements of danger. They need a company like Nove to provide planning, intel, and protection.
“Well...” He sighs. “I already told Point Ops they could have the mission.”
It doesn’t help that Charles is indecisive and easily influenced.
Damiano and I have to do regular “maintenance” meetings with him, to remind him of all that Nove can do for his company, and how we do it better, and more ethically, than our competition.
It’s exhausting, but the money Charles’s company brings to Nove is substantial enough to make the constant ass-kissing worthwhile.
“Did you already sign a contract?” I ask.
“Not yet. It’s with our lawyers now.”
“Look, I’ll be straight with you, Charles. We have a team in Anchorage already. They’ve been on the ground for several weeks. They know the locals, they know the terrain. Because they’re already in place, we can undercut Point Ops’s fees by thirty percent. How does that sound?”
“It sounds like a very generous offer.” He’s now more confident, back on familiar ground—wheeling and dealing. “I’ll cancel the agreement with Point Ops.”
“You’re making the right choice. I’ll have our contract sent to you by EOD.” With any other client, I’d end the call here. But Charles Dumond needs a lighter, friendlier touch. “Now that business is out of the way, what did you think about Saturday’s game?”
“Oh, Faraday is in trouble,” he grouses. “Whatever his personal problems, he needs to get his head back in the game. I was half-tempted to switch allegiance to the Rattlesnakes.”
I want to laugh, remembering that Madison did switch loyalties mid-game. Charles and I talk baseball for a few minutes, until I’m interrupted by a call from Damiano. I make my excuses, promising to catch a game with Charles soon, then switch over to Damiano’s call.
“Seth, I’m glad I caught you,” he says. “How did the conversation go with Dumond?”
“Just as we expected. He fell back in line. What the fuck is up with Point Ops, though? They usually aren’t so brazen about poaching our clients.”
“They’ve wanted Dumond and Kerrick for a long time.”
“I guess.” Something about it bothers me more than usual, though.
Maybe because this is the first time Point Ops nearly succeeded.
Losing Dumond and Kerrick wouldn’t decimate Nove International Operations, but it would set us back considerably.
And I can’t lose Nove. This company and its goals kept me sane while I was mourning Kyle.
It’s no substitute for my brother, but losing Nove would feel like losing Kyle all over again.
“So,” Damiano says in an obvious subject and tone change, “I’m having a mask commissioned for Low Vice tomorrow. It’ll match Madison’s. This is your last chance for me to order one for you as well.”
“I won’t be going to the masquerade,” I snap. Why the hell does he keep pushing this? It’s difficult enough to resist Madison without him waving her in front of me like a tempting treat every five minutes. “Stop asking.”
“Okay, okay. I just thought—”
I end the call.
* * *
DAMIANO
When she shrugs off her coat in Low Vice, Madison emerges as a goddess.
Her sheer, purple dress has a crisscross of fabric cinching across her delectable breasts.
The fabric meets up with a matching skirt which has ribbons at her hips holding long rectangles of fabric that cover her front and back—but it really doesn’t cover much at all.
The same fabric encases her arms, from bicep to wrist. Her shoes are dainty, matching slippers. Her mask matches as well.
I find myself tongue-tied at the sight of her.
Through the holes of her mask, her green eyes watch me expectantly. “Is it okay? I found it on the site you sent me—”
“It’s perfect. Madison, you take my breath away.”
“Hopefully not too much of it.” Her generous lips curve in a smile. “You might need your stamina.”
I raise my eyebrows, affronted. “You think I cannot handle you, little dancer?”
She gives me a delicate spin. “I don’t know—can you?”
She is a brat. I have to bite back a smile, because I love the challenge. As I lead her to Fouad’s table to sign in as my guest, I say, “You will stay at my side the entire night, unless I give you other direction.”
“Yes, Sir.” For once, there’s no attitude behind her agreement.
I stroke the bare skin along her spine, and she nearly drops Fouad’s pen.
“You’ve already signed our regular permissions paperwork,” Fouad comments with a smile. “I recognize you, Miss M. So please sign here, and Mr. Romano, you’ll sign next to her name.”
After we sign in, we step further into the club. Madison’s eyes, not quite concealed by her mask, are wide as she takes in the scene before us.
Everyone has on a mask—that is the one requirement of the masquerade. Other than that, however, anything goes. Costumes are optional; indeed, clothing is optional. This is a den of intricate power play and sin.
Several couples lounge by the bar, soaking in the sexy atmosphere. Other people are dancing, swaying and grinding to the low music coming out of the speakers. Others sit at tables, chatting and laughing, sipping their drinks.
Even though everyone is in masks, I recognize Missy, a woman Seth and I have played with in the past. She’s dancing with another woman, their arms wrapped around each other, nuzzling each other’s necks.
The contented way they hold each other gives me hope for love, for romance.
I squeeze Madison against me, desiring more contact.
With enough trust between us, that could be us someday.
Now if only I could convince Seth.
Across from Missy and her partner, another couple plays at the St. Andrew’s cross. A man is splayed out in bikini underwear while his Domme flogs him. He whimpers and smiles with every stroke.
Low Vice has several rooms built off the main room, with large windows that allow viewers to watch the sometimes depraved, sometimes sweet acts happening within.
Two of the rooms have their curtains drawn, but the one nearest us is open to view.
I gently guide Madison toward it. Will my little exhibitionist get off on watching others?
Will she mentally put herself in their position, feel what it is to fuck in front of an audience?
Her reaction to masturbating in front of Seth in Mirarosa couldn’t have pleased me more.
It looks as if the couple in the viewing room is just getting started. Despite his mask, I recognize Parker, one of the Low Vice bouncers. His partner, a woman, is draped over a spanking bench and tied up in rope. The intricate knots make patterns over her nude form.
Parker warms up his rope bunny by spanking her a few times with his bare hand. He leans forward to say something in her ear. She nods, smiles.
He picks up a leather paddle.
Madison’s lips are slightly parted as she watches the scene.
“Are you wet, bella?” I ask.
She squeezes her eyes shut and shakes her head.
I chuckle. “Liar.”
If I were to slide aside the front panel of her skirt, I could easily feel how wet Madison is getting. I wonder how she would react to such a public display.
“Do you want to be spanked?” I ask her.
She rolls her lips between her teeth. “I don’t know.”
“You seemed to like it when Seth spanked you at the baseball game.” I kiss her cheek. “And I watched. I bet you would like to be draped over that spanking bench, with an audience watching while I punish you.”
As I talk, I trail a hand down her side, my fingertips soaking in her soft, supple curves until I reach her upper thigh.
Her breath hitches. Inside the viewing room, Parker gives his sub a swat with the paddle.
Outside the room, I move my hand under Madison’s skirt so I can cup her pussy. Her slippery arousal coats my fingers.
“Damiano...”
“Yes, bella?”
“There are people around.”
“Good. Let them see. Let them see how I make you come apart in my arms.” A fierce possessiveness overtakes me as I play in her wetness, circling everywhere except that needy little clit.
She continues watching Parker discipline his sub, but her gaze flicks to the side every so often. Is she worried about being watched, or does she want to be watched?
When another couple moves toward us so they can view Parker’s display as well, Madison tries to shift away from my touch.
I grip her waist with my free hand, anchoring her to me. Pressing the steel-hard length of my cock against her ass, I say, “Hold still and let me pleasure you. You’re mine, bella. Do you understand? Mine and Seth’s—”
“I’m not his. He doesn’t want me.”
I bite the edge of her ear, then kiss away the sting. “You know you’re his—it’s already happened. The two of you simply haven’t come to terms with that yet.”
We’re speaking quietly enough that the other couple—an older woman and a younger man—can’t hear us. But I can tell Madison is uncomfortable with them being so close.
I tap her clit, grinning when she stifles a moan. “Come sit on my lap, and I’ll give you your release. You’ve earned it, bella.”
Maneuvering Madison toward a table in the center of the room, I take a seat and pat my thigh.
She arches a delicate eyebrow at me before looking around the crowded room. “Here? This is where you want to make me come?”
“Do you want to come, or not?”
I can see the battle in her expressions. Needy and horny. The girl loves an audience. But she’s also shy and unsure.
I take her hand, kiss her palm. “Why don’t you set your worries aside? I’ll be in control, and all you have to do is follow my directions. You don’t think about anyone or anything else. You just think about me, how I make you feel.”
“Okay.” She clears her throat. “Yes, Sir.”
“That’s my beautiful girl.” I widen my legs so she can sit more easily on one thigh, sitting sideways with her legs dangling between mine. I urge her legs apart so I can resume stroking her as I’d been doing.
I chose this spot well. From here, we can still see what’s going on in Parker’s room. He has removed his shirt. His back and shoulders flex as he spanks his sub.
Madison watches, her eyes dark behind her mask, her lips parted. Without warning, I slide a finger into her pussy.
She gasps, clenching around me. “Damiano...Sir...”
“Yes, bella?”
“It feels so good.”
“I know,” I croon. “Keep watching through the window and let me make you feel so, so good.”
From the corner of my eye, I notice someone watching us. Mask or no mask, I know my best friend. Seth came after all. I raise my eyebrows at him, not that he can see them because of my mask. Still, he understands my expression. He shakes his head—he wants no acknowledgment.
* * *
SETH
While Madison squirms in Damiano’s lap, one of his hands beneath that tempting, sheer gauze of her skirt, he lifts his other hand to greet someone from across the room.
Following the angle, I see Gage, Dmitri, and Leah. Masks can only conceal so much of a person’s face, and I know them well enough—Dmitri’s dark blond hair and bulky build. Gage is leaner, but his presence is just as commanding.
And Leah. I wonder when I stopped craving her. She’s still attractive and bright, but she’s so obviously devoted to her men, it’s incredible that I ever hoped to have a chance with her.
At the sight of Damiano waving them over, Gage, Dmitri, and Leah make their way to him and Madison.
Madison, now aware of their incoming company, struggles to escape Damiano’s grasp. Her sweet, kissable lips move in protest, but he reaches into the top of her gauzy dress and pinches her nipple, hard enough to make her mouth fall open.
Meanwhile, his other hand is still moving beneath her skirt.
The trio stops in front of Damiano and Madison.
I have to change locations so I can keep Madison in my view.
If my friends knew I was hiding over here, watching, they would’ve left me a clear vantage point.
But I don’t want anyone to know I’m here.
I didn’t even want Damiano to know, but he’s so observant, it was unavoidable.
I’m here to watch. I’m here to be tortured by what I can’t have.
Damiano introduces Madison. She forces a smile for them, obviously uncomfortable about meeting new people while Damiano’s fingers are in her pussy. I grin, the sadistic side of me reveling in her discomfort.
Damiano continues to chat with our friends, all the while touching Madison beneath her skirt. Leah gives Madison a commiserating smile. I’ve seen her the victim of a similar ploy by Gage. He once arranged for me to watch them from my car window, while he finger-fucked her in his front seat.
A light sheen coats Madison’s skin. From the subtle but rigid movements of her body, I can tell she’s close to release.
And—there.
Damiano makes her come, right there in front of her brand-new acquaintances. Manipulative fucker. She immediately buries her face in the crook of his shoulder, her pretty cheeks bright pink, her mask crooked.
Our friends move on, and Damiano lifts Madison into his arms. He carries her to one of the private rooms, opens the door, and steps inside.
I waver, tempted to follow.
Fuck it.