She looked into his ardent stare as she fell against him. He guided her down, pressing her into him as she slid down against his firm body. He opened his mouth more, his chin touching the fabric damp from its encounter with his glass. His arms were strong – surprisingly so for one so slender. His muscles were compact, like sprung steel. They seemed to be all-encompassing, effortlessly shielding her from dropping too suddenly and coming to harm. The power was slightly dizzying and overwhelming. She didn’t fight. He was like swimming in the ocean. The worst thing you could do was fight against the tide. To win the battle, she just needed to succumb to the rhythmic motion. Miranda relaxed and let him stay in control.
She was eye-level with him now trying to find the source of what made him so different. There seemed to be a secret that lay behind his eyes – or within them. Maybe he was hiding something. If he were, Miranda was dying to find out what it was.
He hugged her tightly – pressing his body into her. He drew her even closer – his forearms under her buttocks - her feet dangling off the ground. Miranda could feel the hardness of sinew and tendon beneath his magnificent exterior. He had an athlete’s body. It was rippling with power. What would it feel like to be naked and rubbing against him? What sensations would she feel? And how good could it get? She couldn’t wait to start and find out.
Miranda’s wondrous dream was interrupted by the touch of her foot on mother earth – terrain that had been smartly covered by the club’s bamboo floors. She was curious as to what his next move would be. She bit down on her lower lip giving him a flirtatious glance. He took her hand – kissing it languidly before leading her to the dance floor. Other people were watching – Miranda was well aware that they were staring. They had attracted attention. She wondered whether it was what they were as a couple or Peter alone that harnessed all eyes in their direction. She knew he must command this degree of interest no matter where he went or who he was with. He was so handsome as to be hypnotic.
“People are staring at you,” she whispered in his ear.
He merely nodded and ran his fingers lightly through her hair. He leaned down and kissed her brow, his hand melting into the small of her back.
“They’re looking at you, my angel. You are so beautiful right now.”
Miranda was under his spell. She stood quietly on the dance floor – in the space others had cleared for them. Her eyes were half-closed. She was hanging onto his every word – his every move She felt the warm rush of his hand as it traveled up and down her torso – from under her arm to the curve of her waist and back again. She pressed her hips against him feeling his erection under the thin layer of black material keeping it from her. Her legs spread as he pushed his thigh in between them. She closed her eyes enjoying the feel of him. She began to softly grind into his pelvis feeling herself becoming more aroused. She was so ready to be taken – she didn’t care who was watching.
“They’re staring at us, Miranda. Us,” he said with his lips pressed against her ear.
The toast had come true. She had made it so. He kissed her gently on her earlobe and then ran his tongue down the side of neck. He softly bit into it. She groaned in response as her pelvis drove into him. The DJ changed music. She let the new sensuous selection devour her as she wished Peter would do. She moved her hips forward and back in a movement very close to having actual sex. He began a rhythmic thrust that matched hers. He draped her over his arms around her, supporting the middle of her back. She brought one of her knees up around his waist, letting her head and upper body drop backwards. He buried his face in her cleavage and then bit a hardened nipple – tugging on it through the material of her halter top. He pushed the material to the side and began licking the outside of her breasts. Miranda lay backwards feeling immense pleasure and the longing to be penetrated. She was reaching the point of things becoming painful if her physical demands were not met.
He placed his hand under the base of her neck and lifted her up. He’d read her thoughts again. He knew what she was thinking. One look into his face told her that. He knew she was ready. More than ready. She didn’t want to dance, she wanted to make love to him – more than she could express. He’d done it – seduced her and completely taken over her thoughts and her mind. There were no doubts about him and what she was about to do. All that remained was a curiosity as to how good it would be.
She placed her hands on his hips, digging her fingers into the waistband of his pants, and kissed him full on his lips. They were tasty, but not enough – not nearly enough. She pushed her tongue through them and straight into his mouth. When her tongue hit his, she felt more sparks. They stood in the middle of the gyrating crowd succumbing to the urgency of what they were feeling.
Peter took her by her shoulders and pushed her off him. Miranda stood uncertainly – not knowing what to expect.
“Come with me,” he purred reassuringly. His hand swallowed up hers as he led her off the crowded dance floor and into a darkened hall. It led to the public bathrooms and the private rooms – the ones Tiffany had warned her about. Wouldn’t Tiffany be surprised that she didn’t care?
At a private spot, he threw her up against the wall and slid his hands under the side of her dress. His thumbs pressed into her nipples as he kissed her using his tongue. Miranda put her hands on his shoulders and hopped up, wrapping her legs around his waist. Her skirt was sliding up around her waist, but she didn’t care. There wasn’t a lot of traffic and if someone did see, who cared? Peter had been right. Tonight she was the Dark Miranda – the sexual creature that she hid away. Tonight she was letting her shadow self out to play. She was going to explore all those dark places starting with having sex in a public place. It was going to feel great.
The entrance to her vagina was up against his full erection. She felt his hard-on through his pants and her silk underwear. She ground her hips into him egging him on. She felt his breathing become more rapid. He backed away from the wall. She relaxed letting her legs find the floor. He regrasped her hand and led her to the back of the club. The hallway was deserted. Peter began knocking on the closed wooden doors. Angry tones told him to go away, but there was no response from one room. He turned and smiled. He twisted the doorknob and opened the door.
The room was empty except for a couch and large brightly-colored cushions strewn on the floor. Three walls were almost devoid of decoration. A large mirror was anchored to one. The fourth wall looked as if it were made of tinted glass. Miranda knew it was a one-way mirror. That allowed the occupants of the room to see the dance floor. She’d seen the glass from the other side. You could look out, but not in.
She heard the lock click. Peter had taken care of the problem of unwelcome guests. She didn’t want to be disturbed and was glad he agreed. Peter hit the dimmer and raised the light level.
“I like to watch,” he volunteered.
Miranda didn’t have a problem with the lights being on. She wanted to see him as well. She was curious as to what a body that felt so wonderfully when pressed against hers actually looked like without clothes on. Peter grabbed the ribbon that held his hair back and let it fall to his shoulders. She’d never seen him with his hair down. His hair was thick and gleaming. Rather than give him a feminine air, it again harkened back to another place and another time. She’d never been with a man that had hair the length of hers, but she didn’t mind. It suited him and she couldn’t wait to touch it.
He unbuttoned his shirt as he circled around her. She stood savoring the attention, throwing her beaded clutch to the side. He disappeared and came up behind her – face hidden by his hair. She felt his skin touch her bare back. He undid the clasp at the nape of her neck. The front of her dress fell around her waist. His hands slid around and cupped her breasts, lifting them. She felt his chin on her right shoulder, his lips on her neck.
“Take them off,” he whispered as he lifted what remained of her dress up over her head.
She started to turn around, but he clamped his hands on her shoulders firml
y so that she stayed facing away from him. He read her thoughts again and answered her question.
“The first time we’ll do it like this.”
Miranda relaxed and went along with the game plan. She didn’t care if she had sex from the front, the back, or sideways. She just wanted him in her – moving until she came. She pulled off the black thong and tossed it to the side. She half-looked at him over her shoulder. He answered her with a long, passionate kiss. She fell into the rhythm of his mystical kiss as his hand stroked the length of her vaginal crevice. She groaned and moved with the motion of his hand. She was wet with anticipation. The sound of a zipper roused her further. She felt his penis rubbing between her legs. Looking down she saw the tip of it emerge a full 5 inches in front of her. She grabbed it from underneath her – fondling it.
“Kiss it, Miranda, he said moving to her side.
She turned to face him – looking up into his seductive face. She let her tongue feel its way down his body – from his lips to the golden pubic hair. While not nude, his shirt was open as were his pants. Now that she could see him, she saw that the impression of physical perfection was indeed all there. He was Greek god – flawless in composition. His body was compact and toned, with an elegant outlining striation of each muscle. He was almost feline in make-up – a young male prowling in the jungle. Ready to hunt and bring down prey, but he wasn’t like that. He was a lover. A lover that stood partially exposed, his zipper undone and his cock hanging out for her delight.
She bent down letting her tongue wet his long, thick penis. The sight and taste of him was driving her wild. She took him in her mouth, bobbing her head quickly. While she wanted him driving into her between her legs, she couldn’t stop. She only wanted to make him happy. He didn’t seem the selfish type, and she assured herself that he wanted this for further arousal. She was right.
Before he climaxed, he withdrew from her mouth and knelt behind her. He turned her slightly – until she was facing the direction she was first positioned. He lifted her under her buttocks. She was pushed forward until she was resting on her hands. She felt his hands enter her vagina. She pushed back into them grunting and groaning from the exertion. She wanted them to penetrate her more, but he only teased – his fingers staying at the lip of her opening. She wiggled trying to move backwards, but he toyed with her efforts. Frustration was added into her unquenchable lust to be taken. He withdrew his fingers from her – the tip of his penis rested at the lips of her vaginal opening. With a firm stroke, he pushed into her. She could have come from that sensation alone, but she didn’t. She grasped the shaggy throw rug underneath her as he drove himself into her from behind. She felt him slide into her again and again. She closed her eyes screaming out for more. It didn’t take long before she felt the first orgasm, but he wasn’t done. He kept driving into her ignoring her cries to stop. She felt his hands around her waist. He lifted her effortlessly. Before she knew it, she was seated on top of him. She rested her hands on his long lean thighs. His hands reached underneath her arms and pinched her nipples as she pressed herself into him, squeezing herself onto his penis. She threw her head backwards resting it on his shoulder. She used her knees to pump up and down. Her back fell against his chest. His short fingernails dug into her breasts as he softly bit the back of her neck and shoulders.
She felt another orgasm coming on. He suddenly withdrew from her. He pushed her down until she was leaning over his knees – her derriere high in the air. She felt his hand coming down strongly on her buttocks. It was more unexpected than painful. The sharp aftersting had no chance of going away, for he began to steadily rain blows down upon her naked behind.
She was resistant to the idea of being spanked, but Peter had it right. She’d heard about spanking being used sexually. She didn’t think it was for her and had never tried it. It was a night of firsts and while she initially wanted it to stop, she was feeling aroused by it. Something about the firm slaps were causing her private zone to be jostled. The vibration affected her genitals and she found herself stimulated by the action. She gave into it. She never had to do it again if she didn’t want, but on this night, she found herself getting into it.
Her clitoris was becoming enflamed and beginning to spasm. She began moving her hips in response. Peter saw the signs and flipped her up. He entered her from behind and was in her again. The pleasure was intense and Miranda was shuddering from joy. The onset of pleasure overtook her as she reveled in the release. A knocking at the door momentarily interrupted her realm of consciousness. It must be someone checking to see if the room was being used. It was and successfully. Peter’s hands were groping her breasts from behind. Miranda was upright on his lap, uncontrollably pumping up and down on his still hard and erect penis. She never wanted it to end. The knocking increased in fervor. She wanted whoever it was to go away.
“Miranda! Miranda, open this door!”
It was a female voice. It spoke with such urgency. Peter’s tongue was in her ear – swathing it in saliva. She turned the side of her face to him. It was devoured in kisses. He reached down to the front of her and put his finger on her clitoris. He manipulate it until she felt more orgasms burst within her like fireworks. She’d never attained multiple orgasms before, and now that she had, they weren’t enough. She began to feverishly pump herself up-and-down as if on a carnival ride. Her dark side had been unleashed and she couldn’t get enough. The pounding on the door continued. She opened her eyes and looked onto the sea of club goers. They should have been dancing, but they were standing still – looking up at the wall. Over the loud music, there was the sound of cheering.
She gradually regained her senses – curious as to what they were doing. It took her a minute to realize they were looking at the large closed circuit TV screens placed around the room. As she pressed herself up and down on Peter’s hard cock, she tried to focus. Through the haze of desire, the image of a naked woman astride a half-clothed man came into view. The woman was out of her mind – humping up and down as if she were mad. The man had long blonde hair and was …
Peter!
The thought shocked Miranda out of her ecstasy. She had been locked within its shell, but was cognizant of where she was. She was sitting on Peter’s erect penis pumping herself up and down like a cheap call girl and it was all being captured on the club’s TV screens. But how? What was happening?
“Miranda! Open this fucking door or I’ll break it down! Miranda, you’re being filmed!”
It was Tiffany and …
Peter withdrew from her and jumped to his feet. Miranda was thrown off balance – dumped onto the ground like a used condom. He stood over her. She was having trouble piecing together the events. She was in a private room. How could they be watching? The door was shut. She was trying to gather her thoughts. She stood and watched herself expose her naked body to the delight of the spectators. Her image was on the plasma screen. Her hardened nipples – her small thatch of trimmed pubic hair. She grabbed for her dress on the floor and fiddled with the lock on the door. She opened it as Tiffany came bursting in. She huddled over Miranda, letting her hastily pull the dress over her head.
Tiffany was furious. Not with her, but with Peter. She screamed at him at the top of her lungs.
“You! You did this to her on purpose! What kind of man does something like this?”
Miranda didn’t understand what Tiffany was talking about. She hastily fastened the clasp looking towards Peter to hear his response – his denial. Tiffany checked to see that her friend was dressed before approaching Peter. She reached back her arm and slapped him across his smirking face.
“Tiffany!”
Peter didn’t respond. He touched the spot on his face her blow had struck.
“You will regret this,” he said coolly.
Miranda was shocked at the depth of malice, but he’d just been struck – for no reason. It wasn’t his fault that …
“Miranda, snap out of it!” her friend had her hands around her shoulders – sh
aking her slightly.
Miranda saw Peter’s back as he exited the small private room.
“Peter! Peter, answer her! Tell her you didn’t know!” she screamed to the man she’d just made delicious, passionate love to.
She saw her black thong on the ground. She ran to it and picked it up.
“Here’s the lens,” Tiffany said pointing to the miniature circle. Tiffany stood in front of the camera lens blocking the secret peep show. Miranda could see the disappointment on the patron’s faces. Miranda’s image and the private room disappeared from the screen. A slick video by a new recording artist was being shown instead. In another second they had forgotten all about Miranda and went back to dancing.
“Miranda, how could you be so stupid! I thought you said you knew about the private rooms!”
A remnant of a conversation came into Miranda’s consciousness. Tiffany had mentioned something about a scandal and she’d blown it off. She’d told Tiffany she knew about it when she didn’t have a clue.
Adduné (The Vampire's Game) Page 48