Page 8 of Sweet Surrender

It took a few minutes of observing her before I understood why she drew my attention from so many other gorgeous bodies and willing smiles. She was an innocent fawn, almost trembling though she did her damnedest to hide it. She paused in the doorway I had recently left, where the big guy was earning stripes across his ass with every sharp slap of the flogger. Her ruby mouth fell open before snapping shut, followed by a furtive glance around to see whether anybody had noticed her shock. The apples of her cheeks went pink before she scurried away while her friend entered the room to get a closer look.

Satisfaction spread through me like warm honey, loosening my joints and muscles, calming the storm. The fawn was on her own, surrounded by predators. Whether or not she saw it that way, that was the situation in a nutshell. I noticed one, then two men turn their heads to check her out. An hourglass figure, perfectly encased in a black dress cut short enough to flirt with the curve of her ass cheeks. Every step she took hinted at a flash of plump flesh but never quite delivered. Long, smooth legs encased in black stockings with seams running up the back, a detail I always admired. She was hypnotic, her hips swaying slightly as she carefully made her way around.

One of the men made a move like he was thinking of approaching her, but I cut him off before he could take a step.

No, she was mine.

No one had to say it.

I knew it.

She was who I was there for, this innocent thing who probably thought she was sophisticated and worldly outside these walls. After all, Dante West’s circle of friends and clients was impressive. She had to be somebody—a model, maybe, or an actress. With a body like that, she could’ve done anything, and what little I’d seen of her face left no doubt in my mind of her beauty.

Now, I was the hunter, and she was the prey. Stalking her through the crowd, watching from a distance as she watched a pair of men grind against the curvy blonde between them. She stared, openly fascinated. I wanted to know why. What was it about their erotic dancing that brought her to a dead stop? Did she imagine herself as the lucky girl whose body was sandwiched between men whose hands ran over her tits and ass? Was this something she fantasized about when she was alone? Would she touch herself later, remembering the way the blonde’s moans rang out over the music and conversation around us? Would she take the blonde’s place and imagine her own hands were the hands of these men?

Not if I gave her something worth remembering.

My dick was aching, throbbing by the time I decided to move closer. There was no other choice. A force stronger than me pulled me across the floor. I needed to touch her. To educate her.

Countless warm bodies brushed against mine as I passed, focused on my goal. They no longer existed. Everything had ceased to exist the second I decided she would be mine, whoever she was.

She must have felt my presence, turning and lifting her head before I reached her side. Clear, blue eyes flashed a mixture of uncertainty and arousal, locking onto mine and holding me in place for a heartbeat or two. It was only us, brought together by something unseen but extremely potent. I longed for the touch of her creamy skin, to indulge in the full tits that were barely held back by her skimpy dress. I needed to feel her shatter around me. There was nothing like a whiff of vulnerability to turn me into a fucking beast, and she was so vulnerable.

My eyes scanned the area behind her, where a handful of doors lined up along the far wall, representing private rooms where two or more consenting adults could play without prying eyes watching every move. I needed her to myself. Just for tonight, just until her delicious submission wiped away every last worry.

I inclined my head toward one of the rooms whose door stood open. She looked that way over her shoulder, and in the crisscrossing beams of light from high above the floor, I caught sight of her teeth sinking into her lip. Doubtful. Worried.

I extended a hand in silent invitation. I wouldn’t speak. The decision wasn’t a conscious one—pure self-preservation, nothing more. What if she recognized my voice? What a time to be discovered in a sex club, even if my partner might have as much to lose as I did. Besides, there was so much that could be conveyed without the use of words.

She hesitated, eyeing my hand, biting her lip harder. It was no use, though. She knew as well as I did what needed to happen. That was why she placed her hand in mine and allowed me to lead her across the floor, winding our way through the crowd, past kissing, groping guests. Kids play compared to what I had in mind.

Thank fuck I hadn’t left.

5

SIENNA

This was crazy.

This was absolutely crazy.

First, Jules had basically abandoned me to watch some guy getting whipped or whatever was happening. I was too nervous to keep watching.

Obviously, the nerves had worn off. Now, I was allowing myself to be led to a small, dark room away from the main floor by a stranger, no less, one who hadn’t said a word. All it had taken was his hand outstretched in my direction, and I was basically his.

It hadn’t occurred to me to say no.

I can still say no.

Sure, that was an option, and all things considered, it was probably the best course of action.

I didn’t have to do this.

I didn’t have to do anything.

But I wanted to.

That was the most surprising part of all—how much I wanted this. It was the mystery of it all. Who was he? What brought him to the party? And why, out of so many beautiful women he could have chosen, did he choose me?

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