ANightatTheCavern

by Anna Alexander

  “What are you thinking?”

  “I’m not telling you.”

  “Fine. I admire your refusal to be petty.” His arms tightened around her waist. “But I guarantee, Helene has had every single one of those thoughts herself. The only difference between her and you is she doesn’t waste her time obsessing about her flaws, rather she embraces them as being a small part of who she is as a whole.”

  “It’s not that simple. I don’t think I have the guts to say screw it and just be.”

  “Then don’t think. Do it.”

  Right. Easy-peasy. Ignore thirty years of low self-esteem enforced by those who claimed to love you. No problem.

  Helene gripped several strands of the beaded backdrop and pulled her legs back into a wide V as the crowd roared their approval.

  “Oh look.” Miranda shook her head. “Acrobatics. I can’t do that.”

  Jorges pinched her hip then took her hand, leading her away from the railing. “You’re going to be a tough nut to crack. Lucky for you, I’m a patient man.”

  The farther down the dark corridor they traveled, the harder Miranda’s heart pounded. Shadows of all shapes and sizes danced along the walls, hinting at the activities of those inside the darkened rooms. The mere possibilities dampened her palms, and she prayed Jorges wasn’t turned off by her sweaty hands.

  The butterflies in her stomach threatened to fly out of her mouth when Jorges walked up to the only doorway guarded by a bouncer and was allowed passage with a respectful nod of the head.

  While Jorges paused to survey the room, she felt her eyes boggle as she tried to decided where, or where not, to look. Sex pulsed from every corner, ranging from heavy petting to full-out orgies.

  Out on the dance floor, the music beat with the intent to lift your feet and move, while in here the deep, jazzy notes intertwined with the throaty moans and sharply sucked-in breaths to steal inside the bones and throb down to the belly.

  How was Jorges able to remain standing? Her knees were ready to buckle and drop her to the floor in a needy, orgasmic-hungry heap.

  “Are you scared?” he asked with a kiss on the cheek.

  “A little.” Her voice shook and she pressed closer to this heat. “But the kind of scared you’d feel when you’re about to bungee jump.”

  He tipped her chin up with his finger. In the dim light the silver flecks in his eyes appeared to glow, adding to the surrealism of the night. “If at any time you want to stop, just say the word and I’ll stop. No questions asked.”

  “Oh, you mean like a safe word?”

  “You won’t need a safe word. No is enough for me. I don’t play games of pretend force. Be truthful with me and I’ll be truthful with you. Understand?”

  “Yeah. I mean, yes. I do.”

  “That’s my girl.” With another too-brief kiss, he led her to a loveseat, setting her at his side and arranging her legs across his lap.

  She loved the weight of his arm around her shoulder and how she fit against his side. The simple embrace made her feel feminine and protected, but in a good way. Cherished, not possessed.

  “Look in front of you, sweetheart.”

  She’d rather stare at his beautiful face, but she turned her head where he indicated and swallowed a shout of surprise. How had she not noticed that when he first brought her over?

  Not more than three feet from them sat a gorgeous, dark-haired woman. Her eyes were lined with kohl and her lipstick smeared as if she’d been kissed good and hard. Her white button-down shirt was opened to reveal cleavage that spilled out over the top of a lacy black bra. She wore a full skirt that probably would have gone to her knees, but Miranda couldn’t tell because her legs were spread and a man was between her thick thighs, his head and shoulders covered by the black fabric.

  The only clothing he wore was a pair of leather chaps, exposing what the Good Lord had given him to all who dared to look. From between his parted thighs Miranda could see his erection bob like a palm frond in a gentle breeze and his tightly drawn balls were like tiny coconuts, easily one of the most erotic sights she had ever witnessed. Along his spine were scratches and streaks of red that matched the color of lipstick worn by the woman. Obviously he was eating her out, and by the way she moaned and her head lolled against the back of the chair, Miranda guessed he was damn good at it too.

  A sympathetic ache throbbed in her core as she watched the flex of muscles ripple across the man’s back as his arms moved, to do what, only the woman in ecstasy knew. Miranda fought the compulsion to wriggle on Jorges’ thigh. Her clit was begging for attention, just a little touch to relive the tension, or at least make it bearable enough that she didn’t scream for him to fuck her right there in the chair. She was trying to be cool despite the battle waging inside her.

  “Stop,” the woman said with a tone so commanding even Miranda’s spine straightened to attention. “Good. Now let me see your hands and place them on the arms of the chair.”

  His fingers shimmered with pussy cream as he gripped the leather upholstery, but he kept his head buried in her groin.

  “Make me come with only your mouth, Army,” she ordered.

  Miranda squeezed her thighs together and bit back a whimper. Cripes, even she was ready to crawl across the floor to do as this woman commanded.

  “This is Jasmina and her newest trainee, Army. Aren’t they beautiful together?” Jorges asked in hushed tones, as if they were in the middle of a wildlife preserve and he didn’t want to spook the animals they were there to observe in their natural state.

  She nodded, then her eyes widened. “What do you mean, trainee?”

  “Army wishes to be subservient, it’s his natural inclination. His job allows him the freedom to follow orders, but outside he’s expected to be the leader. Jasmina is teaching him how to embrace his submissive side while outside of uniform.”

  “Uniform? Is that why he’s called Army?”

  “Yep. He’ll earn his name back when he’s completed his training.”

  “That sounds so…emotionally wretched.”

  “It can be. You’re torn down to the marrow then rebuilt into someone stronger.”

  She turned to face him. “Are you a Dominant? Have you gone through something like this?”

  “Me?” He smiled. “Nah. I don’t swing one way or the other. It only works for those who truly identify with either side, or are struggling to find that missing part of them that can make them secure. I can’t say happy, because even if you discover your true self, happiness is not a guarantee.”

  “True. Unfortunate, but true.”

  He nuzzled her cheek. “But I want you to watch them for another reason. See, Army doesn’t follow her orders because he was told he’s supposed to but because he wants to. She commands him, and he in turn wants to please her. Understand?”

  She wanted to say yes, really, but she couldn’t. “No. Sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry. I want you to see that you don’t have to be a size four, or strip naked to command attention. It’s in the tone of her voice, her demeanor. Jasmina believes she’s the bomb.”

  “But she is.”

  “And you can be too.”

  Was it possible? Could she reign over her own dominion?

  In her imagination she pictured herself in the chair with Jorges’ bare back glistening under the lights as he licked at her pouty pussy lips. In her head she heard herself voicing her desires in a low, steady tone filled with confidence and spoken by a woman who knew what she wanted and was not going to stop until it was in her possession.

  “Do you want to stay and keep watching?”

  She turned her head and found Jorges watching her with sex-drowsy eyes. The firm line of his upper lip beckoned her to trace the edge with the tip of her finger. The soft puff of his breath as he sighed tickled her hand. Despite all the distractions competing for her attention, the world faded away until there was only Jorges and his smoldering sensuality waiting for her to respond.

  “I want y
ou,” she answered, proud of the conviction ringing in her words.

  “You want me…to do what?”

  “Whatever I want.”

  Any doubt she may have harbored was snuffed out as he smothered her lips with a hot kiss. “That’s my girl.”

  Chapter Four

  Tomorrow Miranda could claim the confident, sexy woman inhabiting her body was beckoned forth by alcohol, or pheromones pumped into the air, or hypnosis caused by the seductive cadence of Jorges’ baritone. For now she was going to pretend she had this scenario planned the entire time.

  At least that was the idea until she entered a room draped with whips, chains and various other contraptions that hung from the ceiling like erotic chandeliers.

  “Whoa.” She tried not to gape as she fell back against the chocolate-colored suede wall. “Have you used all of this equipment?”

  “Um, not all of it.” A red flush raced up his neck as he adjusted the lighting. “Music?”

  Was he embarrassed? If so, of what? “Sure. Are we not supposed to be in here?”

  “If the door is open, it’s available to anyone who knows where it’s located. The only rule is you need to leave it as neat as you find it.” For the first time he appeared uncertain as he turned one direction then the other while creating the perfect mood. His lack of smoothness bolstered her confidence. “Will this suffice for what you have in mind?”

  A large, round mattress big enough for six people took center stage in the middle of the room. A massage table waited in the corner and on the opposite side of the room was a grouping of chairs that ranged from the old-fashioned hard-back variety to soft, cushy rockers. A wet bar ran along an entire wall and a glass-front armoire stood sentry at the end. For some reason the thought of opening those doors scared the crap out of her.

  “I hope so. If not, then I’m not very creative.”

  He held out his hand. “Come to me.”

  Without further hesitation, she ran into his arms, lifting her chin to receive the gift of the firm press of his lips. Jorges’ kiss was exactly what she needed. Hard and hot, but undemanding. He allowed her to lead, parting his lips when she licked the seam with the tip of her tongue, playing, but not taking over.

  By the time she pulled away, she was pleased to see him gasp for breath and his eyes spark with desire.

  This was it. The chance to live out her craziest fantasies. She couldn’t have a better partner to play them out with than Jorges.

  But where to start? There was so much to choose from. The table? The bed? A flash of glitter caught her eye.

  Oh… A gleaming bar, about three feet long, hung suspended from the ceiling by gold chains. Attached to the bar were two soft leather straps worn well with use.

  A gorgeous naked guy completely at her mercy? Yes, please.

  “God, you’re sexy when you’re thinking dirty thoughts.”

  Jorges’ compliment boosted her confidence to near superhuman levels and she had to bite her lip to keep from smiling like a fool. Mentally she cracked her knuckles and prepared to feed her illicit fantasies, while physically she composed her features and strove for a more mature expression.

  “Take off your shirt. Please.”

  A stupid grin threatened to gain control of her lips as Jorges grabbed the hem of his t-shirt and slowly pulled it up his golden torso and over his head. The scrollwork tattoo she had glimpsed along his neck flowed down to skim the curve of his pectoral and lower still to dip in and out of the valley of his abs before disappearing under the waistband of his jeans.

  “Now the rest.”

  He reached for the fly of his jeans as he toed off his shoes. The soft wisp of denim over skin made goose bumps rise on her arms. Of course he went commando. She started to laugh, but it quickly died as his cock sprang free. Already hard and ready to fuck, the thick length stood proudly from the juncture of his thighs, his entire groin was tight, bare and framed in the beautiful tattoo.

  The tips of her fingers tingled in anticipation of exploring all that velvety smoothness. Never before had she been so close to a man with such soft-looking skin. The novelty made her forget her desire to be sophisticated and worldly, and before she could stop herself, she blurted, “Do you wax?”

  Oops. She slapped her hand over her mouth. That’s right. Keep proving how big of a Gomer you really are.

  Jorges laughed and took her hand from her mouth. “I used to, but that gets time-consuming. And painful. So I went through laser treatments. I like the way my skin feels, and when I get older, I won’t have weird gray hair spoiling the effect of the tattoo.”

  “I guess that would look pretty odd.” She turned her hand to grasp his wrist and tugged him over to the bar. With eyes firmly focused ahead of her, she refused to gawk at his erection. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t seen one before, although his was by far the prettiest, if one could even describe such a manly appendage as pretty. The last thing she needed was to openly drool over him after uttering such a gauche statement. “Show me how this works.”

  The heat in his eyes eased her nerves as he flipped a switch on the wall and pulled down on a small lever, lowering the bar until it reached the height of her chin. “Is this for me?”

  “Yes sir. Grab on to the bar.”

  “Absolutely.”

  Her fingers trembled as she secured the straps and giddy laughter tickled her lips. If she was going to be a badass, she was going to have to stop these tendencies to giggle like a silly girl.

  “Is that too tight?” she asked.

  “Perfect.”

  Yes, he was.

  She raised the lever and watched while dancing on the balls of her feet as the bar lifted, stretching out his body in a way that emphasized the width of his shoulders and leanness of his waist.

  This time she couldn’t help herself. She had to slap both hands over her mouth and pinch her nostrils shut to stifle the sound of unadulterated joy at having Jorges’ flawless skin within touching distance. Where did she begin? Light touches with the tips of her fingers, or just go for it and deliver a full body tackle from behind? So many possibilities, her mind was fit to explode.

  Snap out of it, girl. Snap out of it!

  She sucked in a breath, then another. Once her heart rate slowed, she took her time circling his vulnerable form, committing every line and muscle to memory.

  Jorges swayed on his feet as his pectorals flexed. “Jesus, I swear I can feel your gaze on me.”

  “Do you like that?”

  “No. It makes me want to come. I don’t want this to be over before we’ve begun.”

  She stepped up behind him. “Is this better?” She dragged her nails down his back and over his hips, leaving faint pink lines down his bronze skin.

  He bucked and hissed. “Yes. No.”

  “Which is it?” She laughed and pressed a kiss to his spine.

  “Both. You’re a wildcard, Miranda. I have no idea what you’ll do next. The anticipation is killing me.”

  That made two of them.

  Sweat gathered along her brow and collected in her cleavage. He was just as wonderful to touch as he was to look at. She stripped off her blouse and dumped it on the floor, following quickly with her bra.

  The allure of his firm backside was too much to resist. She sank to her knees and filled her hands with his taut flesh and squeezed. The plump curve looked so tasty, she leaned forward and gently sank her teeth into his buttock. She alternated between bites and licks, running her tongue along the crease where cheek met thigh and pressed her thumbs against the crevice before running them against the base of his cock. His fitful moans were an aphrodisiac to her senses.

  Beneath the clean musk of his skin was the heady scent of her dripping sex. Normally she would have been mortified to have soaked her panties, but since this was the first time such an occurrence happened, she decided to revel in the novelty of feeling so sexed-up.

  Her knees wobbled as she got to her feet, but she took extra care to brush the hard tips of her n
ipples over his butt and up his back. Reaching between his thighs, she cupped the tight sac of his balls and pressed up with her forearm while her other hand reached around and gripped his cock firmly, stroking up and down his length.

  Jorges shouted, coming up on his toes with every down stroke. Her front slid along the sweat coating his skin and he trembled in her embrace. Her hands slipped along the shaft as the tip of his cock leaked with every pass of her hand over the knob.

  To have that much power over a man so much taller than she was amazing and made her more daring than she thought possible. Jasmina better watch out, there may be a new Dominatrix in town.

  She scraped her teeth along his shoulder blade. “Does this make you want to come?”

  “Like a fire hose,” he grunted.

  “Then I guess I should stop.” She dropped her arms and stepped away.

  “You bitch,” he shouted and his head tipped back as his breath whooshed in and out in harsh gasps.

  Her laughter echoed in the room. Who knew she’d delight in being cursed at. She circled around to his front and had to bite back a moan as she saw the strain of pent-up release etched on his beautiful face and the red, angry throb of his erection as his hips bucked, striving for friction.

  With the tip of her finger she traced light circles across his chest, skimming the edges of the scrolling tattoo as it wound around his nipple, down his quivering stomach and stopping just short from where it circled the base of his cock.

  “Did this hurt?”

  “Yep.”

  “Why did you do it?”

  “Because I’m a sick, kinky bastard.”

  A smile flitted across her lips before she schooled her expression. “The design is beautiful. What was your inspiration?”

  “Do we really need to have this conversation now?”

  She pulled her hand away and he whimpered, leaning as far as the cuffs allowed, trying to recapture the contact. “Who’s in charge?”

  “You’re evil.”

  “Thank you. Is the origin of your tattoo a secret?” She resumed the light caress, pressing deeper as the tenseness in his muscles eased. She wanted to string him along as far as possible. Now that her inspiration was flowing, she had more in store for her boy-toy.