by Brynley Bush
She hugs me, and I once again feel tears prick my eyelids. I’d been certain all my tears dried up two years ago, but that’s twice in less than a week. Other than Emmett, no one has ever offered me unconditional friendship like this.
“Okay,” I agree with a wan smile.
Luckily, no one else comes in, and an hour later Tessa’s tutored me on how to move my body seductively, given me the immensely helpful tip to pretend I’m someone else while I perform—someone who’s confident and sexy—and helped me work out a basic routine.
“Thank you so much!” I say as we both collapse on the floor. “I think I might actually be able to do this. Now if I could just get over my shyness…”
Tessa pats my hand. “It’ll be okay. Luke says everyone’s allowed one drink tonight prior to the show. I’ll save mine and give it to you. That’ll help. Now help me pick my song. Judging by the outfit Luke picked for me, it had better be something sexy and country.”
* * * *
“Are you almost ready?” Roman’s impatient voice floats through the closed door of the bathroom where I’ve been getting ready for the past hour. “It’s almost eight.”
I open the door and revel in the look on his face as he takes in the outfit he chose for me for the group event tonight. He’d shown it to me briefly before I went downstairs to choose my music, but I hadn’t tried it on for him, and I’m suddenly almost looking forward to performing when I see the thinly veiled desire in his eyes. Particularly since I’m planning on turning the tables on him tonight.
In what I’m guessing is Roman’s attempt to exploit my natural shyness or at least to mitigate the damage it might cause, he’s chosen a schoolgirl outfit complete with a short, flirty plaid skirt; a fairly see-through cropped white blouse that ties in front between my breasts, exposing my entire midriff; thigh-high socks; and black patent-leather Mary Jane stilettos. I suppose I should be grateful he hasn’t given me that much to take off. I’ve put my long dark hair in two pigtails, and in a moment of inspiration, I’d gone down to the gift shop and bought a lollipop to use judiciously during my dance.
“Let’s go,” I say breezily, giving him a tantalizing glimpse of the white thong under the ridiculously short skirt as I precede him out the door of our suite and downstairs to the Diamond Lounge.
The place is packed, mostly with men, but there are a few couples in the audience as well, including Logan and his wife Rachel. The contestants stand out, dressed in an assortment of outfits from trench coats to corsets to elaborate burlesque outfits.
Roman finds us a table, and while he goes to the bar to get us a drink, I scan the crowd, looking for Tessa. I finally find her several tables away, looking like a sexy cowgirl in chaps, a fringed halter top, and a cowboy hat. We make eye contact, and she says something to Luke before coming over to my table, slipping into the chair next to me.
“Here,” she says, nudging a shot glass toward me. “It’s tequila. It’s the strongest thing I could think of to order. Luke probably thinks I’m an alcoholic.” She giggles.
I throw back the alcohol, grimacing as it scorches my throat. “Liquid courage,” I say with a smile. “Thank you, Tessa. For everything.”
She gives me a wink and is gone.
Roman returns with a Cape Cod for me and a tulip-shaped glass of whiskey for himself. “Are you doing okay?” he asks, his eyes warm with concern.
I nod. I’m going to be even better after I finish my second drink. His hand settles firmly on my thigh as Logan welcomes everyone to the first group event of the Power Games and introduces the first dancer. Roman keeps his hand there as we watch contestant after contestant take the stage, each putting her own unique spin on the striptease, and I’m surprised at how much the unyielding presence of his touch calms me.
There are women who play the seductive ingenue in classic lace and garter belts, while others wear tight dresses or provocative lingerie. Several more have a themed outfit like me. Rose, whom I first met at the spa and whom Roman and I had dinner with earlier this evening, is a construction worker strategically draped in yellow caution tape with a hard hat on; a girl named Eva is dressed as a naughty French maid, and Emmett’s sub Rebecca is a scandalously seductive gangster with fishnet stockings and elbow-length gloves. I have to hand it to her; she knows how to work a crowd almost as well as Emmett does. And Tessa! Tessa is fantastic. She wasn’t kidding; her dance moves are rivaled only by Desiree, the former Playboy model and quite possibly an actual stripper, who uses a pole in her dance.
Everyone is amazing, and if it weren’t for the alcohol coursing through my veins lending me a false sense of courage, I’d probably be a nervous wreck, particularly since I drew the last slot. My name is finally called, and Roman gives me an encouraging wink. “You’ve got this, sweetheart,” he says.
I slowly walk to the stage, stopping to whisper a request to Logan, who graciously moves a chair in front of the low stage so it won’t block the cameras but so that whoever’s sitting in it will have a front-row seat. I look out into the darkened room, my eyes homing in on Roman.
“Will you please come up here, Sir?” I ask sweetly.
His eyebrows shoot up in surprise, but he amiably comes forward and takes a seat in the chair that I indicate. I had decided this afternoon that if he wants begging, that’s exactly what he’s going to get. I step forward and put one stiletto on the chair between his legs, precariously close to his crotch, and lean forward so only he can hear me.
“Thank you for the instruction earlier, Sir,” I murmur. “Now it’s your turn to be schooled.”
Then the music starts, and I begin to dance. The song I’ve chosen isn’t popular; in fact, no one here’s probably ever heard it, but it’s by one of my favorite female alternative artists who blends husky-voiced seduction with sheer female power, and the chorus perfectly conveys the message I want to send Roman.
You want me down on my knees.
But it’s you who should please.
Maybe I’ll give it to you
Let you take me all the way
If you beg for it.
Your hands are on me.
Yeah, you turn me on.
I’m flawless, impeccable
But most of all, my own girl
You want me, you need me,
You say you’ll take me all the way
But you’re gonna have to beg for it.
I work it, teasing and taunting Roman the way he’s teased and taunted me, using the moves Tessa taught me—rolling my body, moving my hips, and caressing my curves—giving him a glimpse of what he wants, but I’m determined not to give. At least not until he begs. I seductively untie the shirt, slipping it off my shoulders and easing it down my arms until it hangs from my fingertips. I toss it to Roman, who catches it easily in one hand, his gaze never leaving my face.
Inspired by every B movie I’ve ever seen, I walk slowly toward him and then pause, maintaining eye contact with him as I swirl the lollipop erotically with my tongue before closing my lips around it, moving it in and out of my mouth suggestively. Roman’s face tightens almost imperceptibly, and I fight back a grin. I hand him the lollipop and turn around, my back to him. I flip my skirt up a few times before taking take it off unhurriedly, sliding my body down until I’m kneeling between his knees in nothing but a white lace thong, thigh highs, and stilettos. I place my hands on the floor like he showed me and straighten my knees, giving him a perfect view of my bare ass as I move my hand back between my legs to caress myself provocatively. I roll back up, turning around to face him. I straddle him, grinding my pelvis in his lap as I taunt him, bending forward to kiss him and then pulling back as he leans into the kiss.
My shyness is gone, and I’m someone else, empowered by the alcohol, the lyrics, Tessa’s loud cheering from the audience, and the look on Roman’s face, which is a combination of pure, unbridled lust and undisguised disbelief. Apparently no one has ever teased the all-powerful Dom before, and I take perverse pleasure in knowing I’ve su
cceeded in baiting him.
I slide my hands down my thighs, arching my back and tilting my head before moving off his lap slowly. I stand in front of him, my eyes never leaving his as I slowly slip the thong off, my sex completely bared in a roomful of strangers. I push the thought from my mind, focused solely on Roman and making him suffer like he’s made me suffer. As the song ends, I straddle his lap again, wrapping my arms around his neck. The crowd goes wild, and I can’t keep the grin off my face.
He leans forward and says quietly, “That smirk just got you fucked, Avalon.”
Chapter Nine
Ava
“That was great!” Tessa says, running up to hug me as soon as Logan announces the games are over and invites everyone to stay and mingle. “Are you guys staying for a drink? They’re on the house!” She smiles and winks.
“Avalon has something more pressing to attend to right now,” Roman says firmly. He looks at me pointedly, his eyes dark with desire and purpose. “In our suite.”
Oops. Maybe I pushed him a little too far. But I don’t care. It was worth it to see him squirm. Tessa nudges her drink toward me as Roman turns to talk to Logan briefly, and I down it in one gulp. I have a feeling I might need it.
He doesn’t say a word in the elevator, but we’re barely inside the suite before he’s pushing me against the door, his powerful body pressing against mine as he takes my mouth ruthlessly. Still empowered by my striptease and his response to it, I tangle my fingers in his soft hair and kiss him back, feeling the furious beat of his heart against my chest, proof that I succeeded in making him want for a change. He abruptly shoves away from the door and quickly unbuttons his shirt. He shrugs out of it, and my mouth goes dry at the sight of his hard, sculpted chest dusted with a smattering of dark hair. He is all man—masculine, virile, and powerful. He takes a purposeful step toward me and cups his hands under my buttocks, lifting me off my feet. I wrap my legs around his waist, relishing the feel of his hot, smooth skin against my thighs.
“You want me to beg, my little submissive? Is that it?” he growls as he bites my lower lip. “You want me to beg to touch your skin that’s like fire beneath my fingers, to plead to sink myself into your heat? You know that’s not how this works.”
I’d put the schoolgirl outfit back on after the striptease, and I can feel every hard, hot inch of him against my bared midriff. I feel flushed and breathless, my heart pounding so loudly I know he must be able to hear it.
“I just wanted to make you want me,” I whisper, still emboldened by the alcohol.
He cups my face, our foreheads touching as he looks into my eyes.
“You don’t have to make me want you, sweetheart,” he says gruffly. “I’ve wanted you since the day I laid eyes on you. I want every bit of you—every little cry of pain and whimper of pleasure. I’m not sure I’ve ever wanted anyone as much as I want you, Ava. You may think I have the power, but I don’t. You have it all.”
His voice is ragged, the naked desire evident in his eyes. He seals his mouth to mine, and our lips grind together hungrily. He deepens the kiss, his tongue dipping in to stroke mine, making the sparks in my belly burst into an all-consuming flame.
I’m dimly aware of movement and then the silky satin of the bedspread against my back as he lowers me onto the bed, his muscular body bowed over mine, one powerful forearm braced near my head. He gazes down at me, licking his lips in a gesture so carnal it makes me ache.
“God, Avalon! What are you doing to me?”
I wait for him to pull back, to make me beg for his touch, but he doesn’t. He gives it willingly, almost reverently, as his fingers caress my skin, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. He effortlessly unknots the ties of my blouse and pushes the fabric away impatiently, his gaze hot as my nipples harden in response. His head dips forward, and his mouth fastens around one stiff peak. I groan as my back arches, pressing shamelessly into the wet heat of his mouth. The tip of his tongue circles the nipple languidly as his fingers find my other nipple, grasping it firmly between his fingers and thumb and rolling it. I writhe beneath him, desperate for more.
“Hold still,” he chastises with a smile, pinching my nipple sharply. The tiny pain shoots straight to my core.
I’m panting as his fingertips trail lightly down the plane of my stomach, his hand moving lower to slide deliberately up my thigh and under my skirt. His eyes narrow as he encounters my damp, hot flesh, and he flips up my skirt. I hadn’t bothered to put the scrap of material that was supposed to pass as a thong back on, and his eyes are hungry as they feast on my bared sex.
His hand strokes across my mound, slipping into my soaked cleft. “I fucking love how wet you always are for me.”
“Roman.” His name is a strangled cry as he thrusts two fingers roughly into me. Arousal shudders violently through me. I’ve never felt like this before, so crazy with need I can’t even string coherent words together.
“Such a tight little cunt,” he whispers, spearing into me over and over again as my hips churn restlessly, demanding more. He drags his fingers slickened with my juices across my clit, and I hiss as my core constricts. I’m throbbing beneath his deft fingers that manipulate me with a deliberateness that’s driving me mad. My head rolls from side to side as I feel everything gather in me, a primordial tightening that feels like I’m about to hurtle off some high precipice into the unknown.
“Open your eyes.” It’s a command, but a gentle one. “Look at me.”
My lids flutter open, and I stare into his deep gray-blue eyes as he drives his fingers back into me. His eyes never leave my face as he simultaneously presses my clit, watching me fall apart. I come harder than I ever have before, harder than the night he fingered me over the desk, harder than I ever dreamed possible, everything splintering inside me like lightning crackling with heat.
“Oh, God,” I finally manage. I’m limp and shaking from the force of the orgasm.
“Not a bad start,” he says with a faint smile.
What? That was just a start?
He kisses me softly, his lips teasing mine open as his tongue sweeps into my mouth. My tongue meets his tentatively, and he strokes it leisurely, like he wants to savor the taste of me. I sigh into his mouth. Now if this is submission, I could be all over it. He sucks my lower lip into his mouth, biting it as his hands find my breasts, lifting and plumping them until they feel impossibly heavy and I can feel the warm flush of arousal again. Or maybe still. I can’t seem to get enough of him.
I’m too drunk on sensation to protest when his fingers hook into the waistband of my skirt and he tugs it down over my hips. His lips follow the path his hands travel, searing my skin as he drags the fabric down the length of my legs until he’s kneeling on the floor in front of me. He takes my foot in his firm grasp, his thumb rubbing along the sensitive arch. Only Roman could make touching my foot feel provocative.
He reaches up to cup the backs of my thighs and tugs me to the edge of the bed as his lips languidly trace a path up my leg. His nose grazes my inner thigh, higher and higher as he nips the sensitive skin there with sharp teeth before pressing his soft lips over the stinging pain. There’s no mistaking his destination, and Roman is nothing if not determined. I’m hyperventilating now, torn between closing my legs in humiliation and fisting my fingers in his hair and shoving his face between my legs. He doesn’t give me the choice.
“Don’t even think about it,” he rasps, his hands on my knees opening me wider to him. Then his mouth is there, hot and wet, licking over my bare mound as a moan involuntarily escapes my lips. It feels divine. His tongue flutters around my clit as he holds me open, and I clutch the bedspread with my fingers, certain I’m going to combust.
“I love the way you taste. Like sunshine and secrets.” He flattens his tongue and licks languidly across my opening. I moan. His thumbs part the folds of my sex, and I know I should be mortified, but I don’t care anymore. I tip my pelvis up impatiently, desperate to feel his mouth on me again.
&n
bsp; “Greedy little submissive.” I can hear the smile in his voice. Then all I can hear is the roaring in my ears as his tongue spears into me, thrusting relentlessly until I’m writhing beneath him. He torments me, licking and circling and flicking my clit until my hips are rising and falling of their own volition, desperately pumping in rhythm with his tireless tongue. His hands grip my hips, holding me still as his tongue continues its onslaught. Oh, God. It’s torture not being able to move. I want more. But he’s holding me down, piercing my folds again, stoking the inferno that’s raging inside me. Then a single digit replaces his tongue, pumping in and out of me as his mouth moves back to my clit, his teeth grazing it lightly before he resumes the blissful torment. A scream tears from my throat as his lips fasten around the hardened nub, and he sucks hard. I shatter, my body quaking uncontrollably beneath him as each pull of his mouth on my pulsing clit sends another spasm rocking through me.
I finally lie still as he crawls from between my legs and up my body until he’s poised over me, his powerful forearms braced on either side of me. I feel flayed, stripped, physically and emotionally bared to him. I reach up and touch him, letting my hand drift across the broad expanse of his chest. This is the first time I’ve touched him, and I’m suddenly ravenous for the feel of him. I want to explore every inch of him. He lets my fingers roam for several minutes as I caress the hard edges of his defined pecs and stroke across his carved abs down toward the waistband of his pants. His skin is so smooth and so hot.
He catches my fingers, stopping me. I look at him questioningly. “You don’t want me?” I whisper.
His eyes darken. “I want you so much it hurts. There is nothing I would like more than to sink my cock into you and feel you move beneath me. I want to take you and own you and fuck you until you pass out.” He takes a deep, steadying breath and then lets it out slowly. “But it’s one of your hard limits, Avalon. I’m not going to override that if there’s any chance you aren’t sure.”