Page 30 of Allure
Delilah finally settled on the woman’s face, which was half-covered by a black mask tinged with red material around the eyes—the color was either a warning or a challenge she couldn’t ignore. She felt familiarity as she stared into the woman’s green eyes, but it didn’t bank the desire that licked up her spine. She wanted to see the red dress on the floor in one of these rooms or maybe even her own bedroom.
The attraction was visceral for Delilah, a need that clawed its way up her chest and wrapped around her throat. The main lobby fell away as did the dark cloud, though she could still feel its lingering touches, and she made sure to focus her attention on the green-eyed beauty in front of her.
“I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to bump into you. I was trying to tie my mask on and walk at the same time.” Musical laughter that was filled with sweet sunshine slipped around Delilah, and she wanted to bottle that sound up and use it on her dark days.
“I clearly can’t do two things at once.” The second the woman’s voice registered in Delilah’s ears she backed up as if she’d been shocked.
It can’t be.
Delilah immediately knew who was standing in front of her, and now the red on her mask was definitely meant as a warning—one Delilah wasn’t sure she’d be able to heed. All this temptation here tonight, and she was convinced nothing would tempt her more than the woman standing in front of her.
“Oh, Delilah? What a small world. I can’t believe you’re here.” The genuine happiness in Brooklyn’s tone almost made Delilah curse. Of all the places and all the scenarios, she hadn’t expected to run into the receptionist from her current place of employment here at Orchard Tree.
“What are you doing here, Brooklyn?” The question fell from her lips, and she wondered briefly if she could convince her to leave. There was no way she’d be able to enjoy Orchard Tree and not find out what rooms her newest temptation enjoyed playing in.
Syra’s heart felt like a wrecking ball in her chest. She placed her hand over her heart, willing it to calm down before she passed out. The ease and comfort she had with Asli in his car talking about her art had disappeared the moment his hand gripped her thigh and he made his little star remark. Her body hummed, and she felt the delicious heat of arousal coil in her stomach. She’d been on a tightrope—her body pulled taut since the moment she opened the door to him.
“I saw the way you watched me that night, Syra. I saw the way you touched herself when you watched me slide my cock into that woman’s mouth….Did you want to be on your knees for me and Marco?”
She let out a harsh breath as Asli’s words wrapped around her. It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him yes—to bear her truth to him, but she held back. As much as she fantasized about them both taking her, she knew it wouldn’t happen because of her rules with Marco, and the sooner she remembered the boundaries she put in place, the quicker she could get her body’s reactions to both of them under control.
Good luck with that.
Syra looked around, taking in the spacious main room. She couldn’t get over the size of Orchard Tree. As soon as someone had gotten her and Asli from his car, they were led through a maze of other cars before they made their way to what she could only assume all fairytale castles looked like in books she read as a child.
The outside was massive—taking up the entire block with an iron gate surrounding the property. She had to walk up several steps that led to an impressive set of double doors with beautiful cherry blossoms carved into them. The craftsmanship on the door had taken her breath away, and Asli let her run her fingers against the surface as if she could soak up the energy it took to create it.
She wondered if he had a hand in building the doors for the castle, but the thought quickly fled when someone in a suit and tie opened the door to greet them. Her nerves flared to life as they took her information down and made her sign waivers. Once she was done, she was led to what she was told was the main room where they could mingle before being allowed to move on to other rooms in the castle.
Syra felt small in the sea of bodies that surrounded her, and if she ignored what was going on—or would be going on—she could pretend this room was where they would have held all the balls if she were a queen in some mythical world filled with magic and knights eager for her hand.
Sir Marco Cabrera—as she had known him—and Sir Asli Jones, my lady.
She fought the smile the thought sparked and ran her fingers absentmindedly along the wall she was closest to, taking in the color choice the host used. A serene blue touched the walls of the main room. She wondered why the owners hadn’t chosen a darker color scheme. Something that would entice and set the mood for their guests—given what was happening within these walls—though she could see the merit in using the serene blue too. The color had a calming effect, and since her heart was no longer trying to explode out of her chest, she could say the color choice worked.
The chandelier caught her attention next, along with what looked like hooks in the ceiling. She didn’t let her mind wander too far as to what the hooks could possibly be used for and took in the silver chandelier before her gaze tracked upward toward the paintings on the ceiling.
Naked bodies in various sexual positions marked the ceiling and she let out a snort. “A little on the nose with the artwork,” she mumbled as she took time to admire the artist’s work.
She wondered why the artist had opted to leave out the faces on the bodies. She guessed with the faceless bodies anyone could picture themselves in those positions, though the longer she looked up at the ceiling, the less merit that thought held. While the artwork intrigued, there was still anonymity around the faceless bodies. It sparked an interest but only on a surface level because without a face those bodies didn’t feel real to her—they weren’t tangible.
Syra closed her eyes, letting her fingers trace the grooves in the wall beside her. Something in her chest sparked, warming her, and she felt her fingers twitch. She wished she had a canvas in front of her to craft the images her mind was starting to conjure up. It was twice now she felt the call to put what she was feeling on paper, and it made her lightheaded, wondering if this was it—the final push she needed to reclaim the part of herself she thought she lost.
A swarm of butterflies took root in her stomach as she imagined this room as one of her spaces. She’d be sure to play up the blue on the walls using that as the base for a woman’s eyes. She would let the woman’s hair run the length of the wall in a multitude of dark colors intertwined with bright ones, giving it a fiery wildness that burned brighter the more her lovers touched and tasted her.
The woman would be naked as the day she was born. Her glorious body both soft and strong, going by the marks against her skin on display, and waiting for her lovers to bring her to climax. Syra would have two different hands—two separate lovers massaging her petite breasts while another lover sat between her legs, drowning in her essences. Her lips would be slightly parted, on the verge of an ecstasy she couldn’t find on her own. The woman would be a queen in her own right and her various lovers, all knights pledging their lives to protect and worship her as she saw fit.
“I wonder what masterpiece you’re drawing in that beautiful mind of yours, estrellita. Is it a fantasy you wish to come true?” Marco’s breath fanned the back of her neck, just as he moved her hair over her shoulder. Her body tensed, drawing tight like an arrow right before it was released. “Or maybe something a little more abstract?” He hummed and his voice dropped to a sultry whisper. “Maybe something like that of a lone figure staring at a mountain watching the sky turn into a violent storm of colors.”
Syra sucked in a sharp breath at the feel of his feather-light touch against the back of her arms. She felt the temperature in the room grow hot. Her memory roused the taste of him on her tongue, and she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth to keep a whimper from escaping.
She wasn’t sure she was going to see him tonight. Asli had made it seem like he wouldn’t be here, and she hadn’t prepared herself to build up her barriers around him. She could feel her body melting under his touch.
Marco being here at her back, barely touching her and talking about a painting she thought he would have forgotten about by now unsettled her—made her feel like she was standing on shaky ground, forcing her to rely on him to keep her steady.
The Storm, the painting had been called, had changed the trajectory of her career. It was one of the first full paintings she did when she started dating Marco. It had been her way of trying to work through her feelings about her past and what her future could hold. The painting ended up bringing Marco and her closer together as a couple and, maybe in the end, tore them apart too. If that painting had never taken off the way it did, would Joel have been able to reach out to her? His well wishes and offer of congratulations had been all the opening he needed to sink his claws into her and lure her back to a place where she felt comfortable and safe.
“You know that painting you’ve yet to name? The one with the lone figure staring at the mountain?” Marco started unpacking the takeout he brought home. She was covered in paint, her mind racing with ideas that she couldn’t get on a canvas fast enough. She didn’t want to stop painting but her stomach kept growling for food.
