Page 23 of Dare Me

While Lochlan and I were sparring, the pair on the dais changed positions. Juliette is on her feet, bent over the armrest now. As the stage rotates, the man tucks himself back in and accepts a vibrator from a cigarette girl. He places it in Juliette’s bound hands then removes his belt completely. The leather is then wrapped around the middle of her thighs, keeping her legs cinched together.

His palm circles her ass and anticipation inflates my lungs. “Such a pretty ass. Maybe next time, I’ll fuck it.” Jesus.

He takes back the vibrator and a buzzing resounds. I reach for my glass that’s not there. I quickly pull my hand back, but Lochlan saw. He cocks his head to the side as if he caught me doing something dirty. “Thirsty?”

I scoff lightly. “You’re really a dog with a bone, aren’t you?”

A sharp cry gets both of our attention, our heads spinning to the stage. Juliette’s hands dangling in the middle of the chair flex and clench, and I quickly see why. The vibrator has been slotted between her legs, held tight to her core with no escape. Her cry trails off into a heady moan as she hangs her head. My own body tingles with awareness. I can feel every pulse, and slickness builds between my thighs.

“How many times do you think he’ll make her come?” Lochlan asks idly, drumming his fingers on the table. His gold rings flash with hues of red.

“There’s only so many times she can.” The thought of being forced to orgasm again and again hits me with an unexpected wave of sparks. How many could I take?

As if reading my mind, he lightly places his palm on my thigh. “You’d be surprised what you can take when you’re not in charge.” He looks up at me with hooded eyes, the message in them loud and clear.

Lulu comes back with a tray of drinks, and my first instinct when I see her is to rip Lochlan’s hand off. My hand flies to his, covering it. She says something, but it’s all white noise to me. My hand is frozen on top of his, incapable of removing it.

She drops off our drinks, and my heart thumps in exhilarated beats. Lochlan glances at our unmoving hands and his jaw clenches. On stage, the man slaps Juliette’s ass as she peaks, her legs shaking. My own leg burns under his palm. I’m back on that precipice, the cliff jutting out between reason and temptation.

I don’t know what I want, who I want. But right now, my mind is muddled by more than just my drink. I have this aching, burning need to be touched . . . to be pleasured.

I’ll probably regret it later, but right now, I can’t bring myself to care. Instead, I lift my hand and leave his hot and heavy on my thigh.

With my decision made, he inhales deeply, like it’s the first full breath he’s been able to take since he touched me. His palm glides across my thigh until his fingertips brush my bare skin through the slit in my skirt. I tell myself it’s too late to stop this, but I know that’s not true. If told him to, he would.

The truth is, I don’t want him to.

His fingers squeeze, digging into my muscle just the littlest bit, as if he’s checking to make sure I’m not a figment of his imagination. He leans toward me and whispers, so close his lips feather against my skin causing chills to ripple down my arms, the hair on the back of my neck rising. “You can pretend I’m someone else.”

I can’t say anything, my throat tight, my blood hot. I could, but I don’t want to.

He slowly traces a finger back and forth on my skin, replicating the pattern from the table. Moans of pleasure and the sharp sound of each slap create an erotic soundtrack. I inch my legs apart, letting his hand slide to my inner thigh. His grazing touch is like lightning to my core, and my stomach twists into knots.

“Do you think it’s the pain or pleasure that makes her scream like that?” I suck in a breath as his fingers brush against the lace of my panties. I can feel the damp fabric press against my heat and know he feels it too.

“And is it the pain or pleasure that has you soaked like this, réalta?” His tone is thick with earnestness, like he yearns to know my every thought. My every desire.

“I don’t know,” I manage to mumble out.

“We can find out together,” he says almost sweetly. Then he follows it with a husky curse. “Fucking dripping.”

He presses harder against me. I bite my lip and suck in a sharp breath through my nose as he rubs testing circles over the lace. The light friction feels a thousand times stronger than it should.

And god, I want more.

I open my eyes to see the man slide his cock inside Juliette’s cunt, her legs shaking from the vestige of a previous orgasm or the beginnings of another. It’s impossible to tell when he keeps her in a constant cycle of pleasure.

Lochlan’s fingers tease the top of my panties, brushing against my sensitive lower stomach. He toys with the elastic band, and I can’t breathe until he finally dips beneath the fabric.

He sighs through a clenched jaw as his fingers slide down my pussy, skin on skin, nothing between us. My mind swims and I hold my breath, waiting for him to touch me where I crave it most.

The man’s hand fists Juliette’s hair, yanking her neck back as he thrusts ruthlessly into her. I hear a breathy groan, but it’s not from the speakers. My head swivels to the couple in the booth next to ours. He has her flattened against the table and is pounding into her, mirroring the masked man’s movement.

This room is full of people. My heart stutters to a stop with the reminder. I’m going to be the new owner in a matter of days. What am I thinking? About to be fingered in public? In my soon-to-be place of business?

I’m about to put a stop to this ridiculousness when two of Lochlan’s fingers glide down either side of my clit then sink inside me. “Fuck . . .” A surprised keen spills out of me as I grip the edge of the table.

He pulls them out and swirls my clit with my own wetness. My brows pinch together as I bite back another moan. His touch is featherlight, but it’s everything I need. Soft and slow. Building, building, building.

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