Page 8 of Room Ten: Put on a Show

“Does the room have your stamp of approval, Baron?” she asked lightly, as if those few words weren’t loaded with sexual frustration for me.

She flirted, she teased, she stripped naked in front of me to see if I would break. She made me fix her shoes, choose her perfume, compliment her clothing for the evening when she was meeting other men, knowing the whole time that I couldn’t have her.

“It’s clear,” I replied, even though my throat felt raw when I said it.

Kenna beamed and hooked two fingers into Troy’s belt. He flashed a smug glance in my direction as he slid his hands down Kenna’s back and cupped her ass.

I gritted my teeth and looked away. The shuffle of movement behind me signaled the audience was beginning to file in, taking their seats. Kenna tugged Troy into the glass box, pulling his belt free as the door clicked shut. It was locked by a fingerprint-coded security system—only staff and guests for the evening had access to it. Even though Merrick and I were never guests, we were Kenna’s protection and our fingerprints were on her file for emergencies if we needed to get inside for any reason.

Troy pushed Kenna onto the sumptuous mattress, piled high with black silk sheets and burgundy pillows. He cradled her foot in his palm, drawing her leg up to kiss the inside of her thigh. Then he removed her shoe and let it drop to the floor.

Kenna’s gaze shifted past him and fell on me.

“Baron, Merrick, you should stay and watch,” she said. “It would be much easier to keep an eye on me from inside the room, don’t you think?”

Her eyes gleamed with her taunting.

“I doubt that’s in their job description, darling,” Troy said with a chuckle. “Besides, do you really want your bodyguards to see you with your ass in the air and your face in the pillow?”

A small smile curled the corner of Kenna’s mouth up. She shrugged and extended her other leg—just like she did for me back in the privacy of her bedroom—so Troy could remove her stiletto. The only difference was that I didn’t have the privilege of kissing Kenna, tasting her perfect, warm skin like he did.

“I wouldn’t mind,” she said. “God knows they’ve seen me naked plenty of times.”

I swallowed around the lump in my throat. Merrick whirled around and stalked out of the room.

As Troy’s hand disappeared under the lace of Kenna’s skirt, I tore my gaze away, fleeing into the corridor. When I turned to close the door behind me, I caught one final glimpse of Kenna.

Troy’s head was buried between her thighs while she was still mostly dressed, her knees spread wide, her mouth open on a moan of ecstasy. Her back was arched, her body illuminated to a heavenly glow by the stage lights. Dozens of faces watched from the audience now, eyes alight as they witnessed Kenna’s pleasure.

She was mesmerizing, breathtaking as her fingers twisted into the sheets.

I yanked the door closed before I could watch Kenna unravel. I still heard her though. That voice was made for singing and every note of her pleasure climbed high, clear, and bright.

“I hate him,” Merrick said through gritted teeth.

“I couldn’t agree more.”

Chapter Three

Troy

I had never felt so sore and utterly exhausted in my entire life. Kenna wasn’t kidding when she said she liked to play for hours and hours. I’d lost count of how many orgasms she’d had sometime around two o’clock in the morning, and she still wasn’t satisfied.

Now that it was nearing sunrise, the audience had mostly drifted away, leaving only a few weary stragglers behind, determined to enjoy every minute of the show. Kenna had warned me over text about the audience beforehand. Judging by her tone, it seemed like she half expected me to change my mind and bolt. Instead, I decided to stick around and enjoy the experience for what it was—a novelty, and an opportunity to relieve some of this sexual tension between us.

Kenna stretched lazily beside me with a little squeak, arching her back until the thin black sheet slid off her bare body, exposing her gorgeous, heavy breasts. Her hand strayed down between her thighs, stroking her clit slowly, seeking more.

I caught her wrist, pulling it up to my mouth to kiss her knuckles.

“You really are insatiable,” I said.

She shrugged with a smile that might have been sheepish if I didn’t know better. Kenna wasn’t the type to be shy. Although there was something in her expression that said she would have preferred to skirt this conversation if she could.

I rolled on top of her, slotting my hips in the soft cradle of her thighs. She threaded her fingers through my hair as I dipped my head, sucking her sweet, rosy-pink nipple into my mouth. I swirled my tongue around the stiff peak for a minute or two before I pinched the sensitive flesh between my teeth. Kenna gasped, squirming beneath me.

I’d eaten her out twice already, fingered her, made her come on my cock, and nearly wore out one of the vibrators among the myriad of sex toys, lube, and condoms provided in the nightstand. And yet, when I hooked two fingers inside Kenna, her pussy fluttered, ready for another round. I wished to God my cock would respond so I could feel the vice grip of her hot, silky walls gripping me, but I was tapped out for the night.

Then an idea occurred to me and I glanced back over my shoulder at the greedy eyes of the audience. When Kenna told me about the setup, I was a bit worried that I might not be able to perform. The thought of being unable to get hard while everyone looked on was a nightmare waiting to happen, but when I was finally in the glass box on that stage with Kenna, the whole concept spurred me on even more.

---