Page 34 of Sinful Palace

9

Willow

I anxiously smootheddown my short crimson dress and checked my teeth for lipstick in the mirror on the elevator doors. Logan punched a code into the keypad on the console, and there was a short hum as we dropped two levels.

The doors opened into a foyer lit by ancient-looking lamps, and a young woman wearing a thigh-skimming black dress approached us as we stepped out. She was holding a silver tray with several sparkling champagne flutes. A dazzling smile made her pretty face glow.

“Drinks?” she asked in a pleasant tone. Though she sounded polite, I didn’t miss the way her lustful eyes lingered on Logan while ignoring my presence entirely.

He shook his head. “No, my fiancée isn’t drinking tonight,” he said, striding right past her without a second glance.

I couldn’t help but feel a little smug at the expression of surprise and annoyance on the woman’s face. Logan might be an ass, but at least he wasn’t going to humiliate me by flirting with anyone else right in front of me.

“This isn’t what I expected,” I murmured as he led me through the foyer. The floors were covered with thick, luxurious carpet, and the walls were lined with beautiful marble statues and oil paintings. Between each piece of art was a door with a golden handle and a number.

Logan arched a brow. “Why?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “It’s just not how I pictured it.”

“You were expecting something gaudier, right? Trashier?” he said.

I blushed. “Maybe.”

He chuckled and led me over to a set of double doors on the far-right side of the foyer. The atmosphere shifted the second he opened them and pushed me through to the party beyond.

The foyer outside felt safe with its quiet elegance, but this new room seemed dangerous and thrilling at the same time. I felt lost, frightened, and excited all at the same time, like Alice when she went down the rabbit hole.

The party room was enormous and dark as a nightclub, only lit by flashing strobe lights in the middle and deep red lamps along the edges. Dense fog from a smoke machine hung above our heads, glowing red from the lights, and the rich scents of perfume, cigar smoke, and liquor filled the air. Music piped through the space; a low, rhythmic beat designed to entrance.

The walls were black with thin silver Art Deco fan prints, and the soaring windows were draped with dark red velvet curtains. A wide raised platform ran down the middle, splitting the room in two, and a long mahogany bar stood on one end.

Silver cages sat on top of the platform, each one containing a scantily-clad dancer. Their movements were frenetic and mesmerizing, eyes heavy-lidded and lost to the music. I stared up at the one closest to us, watching her sway her hips and thrust her pelvis back and forth. Her silver thong caught the light with each seductive movement, almost hypnotizing me as it flashed and shimmered.

“This way,” Logan said, leading me farther into the room. I tried my best to breathe, but my lungs refused to cooperate. The closer we got to the action, the more nervous and awestruck I felt.

All around us, club members and women were engaged in all kinds of debauchery. Screams, grunts, and strangled cries echoed throughout the space along with the music.

The people closest to the bar and platform were simply drinking and dancing, but around the darker edges, they were playing much harder. Naked couples, threesomes, and foursomes openly fucked, licked, and sucked each other on and around the dark furniture lining the walls, while lecherous men stood by and watched with their pants undone, stroking their cocks.

That brazen fucking and voyeurism was the tamest part.

One woman I passed was trussed up in thin black ropes, whimpering as a man fisted her ass. Near her was another woman suspended from a high beam, moaning blissfully as a man whipped her tits with a black flogger. Across from them, in an area sectioned off by red ropes, two lithe girls performed a show with two long, thick dildos, facing away from each other on their hands and knees and thrusting as the dildos slid back and forth between their asses and pussies.

I gripped Logan, nails digging into his forearm. My body felt hot and cold at the same time, jumbled with fear and arousal.

“This reminds me of an Order party,” I said, practically needing to shout my words over the throbbing bass and pleasured groans. The only major difference between this place and the Order Hall parties was a lack of masks.

Logan nodded. “That’s because the staff and escorts for the Order parties are hired right out of Wonderland,” he explained, pulling me toward the bar on the far side where things were slightly quieter.

I peered around the room again, eyes wide as saucers. My gaze settled on a blonde woman restrained with chains on a black bench. A man was standing in front of her, watching with narrowed eyes as another man gripped her hips and relentlessly pumped himself deep inside her. Her lips parted with pleasure, and the man in front of her smirked as the other finally finished, spraying her back with pearly ropes of cum.

Logan chuckled and slapped my ass. “Stop staring.”

My cheeks felt as if they were on fire all of a sudden, and I lowered my eyes. “Sorry. I’m just trying to figure out what happens here.”

“It’s a Wonderland Club party. Anything goes,” he replied.

I raised my brows. “Anything?”

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