Page 53 of Vivacity
My throat constricts. Jesus Christ, the idea of Sophia being next door, tied to a cross, or bent over and shackled to the club’s infamous banquette, or fucked up against a pillar, or laid out on a padded bench for several guys to use as they wish—the idea of it makes me feel faint with jealousy and desire. Because if I knew she was a prize the very first moment I saw her, then every depraved fucker in there will see her in this scrap of green silk and reach the same conclusion pretty fucking quickly.
She’s playing her cards close to her chest. I know she’s come here primarily to catch up with her girlfriends, but I’d be naïve to think the choice of a renowned sex club as a venue was incidental. I have no say over what she does in there; I know that. But I stand by my comments just now. It’s been electric between us, physically speaking, since she started working for me.
So maybe, just maybe, she’ll allow me to be her host next door.
‘A few things spring to mind,’ I confess. ‘If you’re looking to push some boundaries, you’re in the right place.’ I swallow hard. ‘And I say this as someone who has your best interests at heart, but what could be more convenient than having a man who knows what gets you off, and knows what your beautiful body is capable of—or suspects it, at least—being the one to show you the ropes?’
She rewards me with her signature full-wattage smile, and it makes me so weak with desire that my knees are trembling. Her eyes, black in this light, are shining. That easy-access dress of hers, which seemed like a personal affront when I first saw it, suddenly represents a world of possibilities. She’s fuckinggorgeous. I meant what I said. Her ownership of her sexuality is one of the most attractive things about her, and right now she’s lit up, alive with the prospect of what tonight could hold.
And goddammit, I need a piece of that.
‘And are those ropes literal or metaphorical?’
‘Either. Both. Think about it. You just admitted that I’m the pro tonight, after all.’
She sighs. ‘But it’s my night. Not yours. I don’t want you getting all controlling and hijacking it. What if I want to play with other guys?’
I flare my nostrils as I force myself to abandon every last boundary I’d need if I were to stay in my comfort zone with Sophia. Because no, I don’t fucking want to share her, even if I can admit to myself that the prospect of watching other guys fall over themselves to give her pleasure is somewhat arousing. I force the truth out.
‘I won’t be thrilled, but I’d rather be a part of it than be excluded, and I won’t mess it up for you. I won’t cockblock you.’
I release her arms and hold my hands out in a gesture of surrender. Of truth. There you have it.
She stares at me in disbelief.
‘I won’t cockblock you,’ I repeat, ‘but I know there are times when you love me being in control, and I’d like to think I could manage the situation in a way that makes it even better for you.’
‘So, what, you’re saying you want to take the reins next door?’
I nod curtly, my stomach a roiling mess of arousal and possession. ‘Exactly. Consider it my way of making amends. I made a very inelegant attempt to denigrate you as a sexual being earlier. Let me show you how I really feel. Let me give you a night you won’t forget.’
Sophia blows out a breath. ‘Then I suppose you have yourself a deal, Mr Kingsley.’
CHAPTER 25
Sophia
Well, that was the easiestyesI’ve ever given.
If Ethan Kingsley wants to fall on his sword and make tonight all about me, then who am I to deny the man?
The appeal of The Playroom lies in its mystery. Its potential. I want that roller coaster ride of fear and anticipation and thrills. I want nameless, faceless guys—in theory, anyway—but I’d be stupid to think that many of them would have more bedroom skills than Ethan. The man is, sexually speaking, a god.
This gives me the best of both worlds: an excellent insurance policy. If the randoms in here can’t deliver the goods, I know for a fact that Ethan will finish me off with his trademark skill.
Besides, the idea of my very own Eight MCing sexy time for me is honestly very intriguing. Clearly, the man is possessive. I could have guessed that even before he asked for exclusivity. But I know from his threesome with Marlowe and Brendan that he’s open to sharing, and he definitely has that Alpha Daddy vibe in spades. The idea of him commanding a scene for me next door, conducting a sexual symphony for me like a true maestro, is a scenario so spectacular even I couldn’t have dreamed it up.
He puts a hand on the bare skin at the small of my back, his touch light, and leads me towards a pair of heavy oak doors. A bloody enormous security guard looks at the drink stamps on our hands—two each—before nodding at us and swinging open one door.
And, just like that, we step over the threshold and into a different world.
Holycrap.
The Greek orgy Thad organised for my leaving party felt positively benign compared to this. Organic, if you like. You know, lots of naked people frolicking in the great outdoors and letting things take their course. This is far more intense.Intentional.A roomful of London’s elite stripping off and getting down and dirty?
I fucking love it.
I stand just inside the door, hyper-aware of Ethan’s cotton-covered torso skimming my bare shoulder blades, and take in the scene before me. The air is thick with the smell of sex and the valiant efforts of masses of DiptyqueBaiescandles attempting to drown it out. The beat of trance music thumps out a carnal pulse in this large, high-ceilinged space that’s dimly lit but airy, its huge white pillars and gauzy white drapes adding sensual drama.
