The Architect (Nashville Neighborhood Book 3)

by Nikki Sloane

  I sipped in air as her black hands smoothed over the girl’s latex-bound skin, touching her with reverence. She coursed her palms over the girl’s hips, up over her taut stomach, passing across the pretty patterns of ink. The girl’s breathing instantly went ragged, and although she was immobilized by the sealed latex around her, her chest heaved.

  Jesus, it was fucking sexy.

  Mistress Theia shifted over her, putting one knee down between her sub’s parted legs, so she could touch more places. Her hands caressed, gliding in slow, luxurious strokes, working up and down the girl’s body. It looked like she varied the pressure she put down too. As she passed over the girl’s breasts the first time, it was featherlight, but her stroke downward had more drag.

  I didn’t know if it was solely meant to prime the girl, or the audience too, because anticipation coiled low in my belly as the black hands inched down over the blonde’s waist. My gaze tracked them all the way until her fingers slid between the girl’s thighs and began to massage.

  The moan she issued flickered through my body like a lick of heat.

  And it was at this moment, I glanced up and discovered a pair of eyes watching me from across the circle. Breath halted in my lungs. The gorgeous man in the gray suit—Clay’s friend—hadn’t left after all. He was here for the show, but while everyone else was watching Mistress Theia play, this guy was watching me.

  SEVEN

  The man in the gray suit stared at me, his deep-set eyes brimming with curiosity. Was he wondering who I was? How I knew Clay? Or maybe it was simpler, and he was questioning why I was gawking at him.

  I averted my gaze back to the scene playing out on the floor.

  Mistress Theia had one hand resting on top of the girl’s pelvis, and her thumb dipped down, rubbing circles against the girl’s clit, while her other hand wandered from breast to breast. A longer, louder moan drifted from the girl and swept through the room, making the woman in the seat next to me ball a hand into a fist.

  I understood. Watching the scene was turning me on, too. It wasn’t just the sexual stuff, either. It was the power. Mistress Theia chuckled wickedly when the girl tried to writhe inside her prison and the latex wouldn’t allow it.

  Faster and faster that sinful thumb moved, and even though the girl couldn’t escape, Mistress Theia leaned over and set her forearm across the girl’s shoulders to pin her in place.

  She cooed softly to her sub. “Such a good pet. Are you going to come with all these people watching?”

  The girl’s moan was desperate with need, but before she could answer, Mistress Theia clamped her hand over the girl’s mouth. The words came out muffled beneath her black plastic glove.

  Mistress Theia’s smile was evil. “I can’t hear you,” she whispered.

  Lust snaked through me, tightening every muscle in my body. It was ridiculous, but I felt like I had to sit absolutely still, otherwise everyone would know how uncomfortably turned on I was. Making it worse on myself, I risked a glance across the way to the stranger in the gray suit.

  Fuck, he was still looking at me, and this time he had one eyebrow arched and the corner of his mouth lifted in a sexy smile, which told me it didn’t matter if I moved or not. This guy somehow saw all my desire, right into the heart of me, and maybe even down to the marks Clay had put on my ass.

  As if to remind me of his presence, cool fingertips grazed across my skin, making me flinch. Then Clay’s hand was there, cupping my shoulder as he stood behind me. Maybe he was just resting it there casually. But like the other times he’d done it at this club, his touch felt possessive. Had he noticed the way his friend was looking at me, and wanted to assert ownership?

  Everything fed into me, building like a pressure valve. The way the stranger’s unabashed lust for me dripped off his face. Clay’s subtle domination as his fingers encased my shoulder, keeping me in place. It made me shudder with satisfaction.

  On the floor, whimpers of pleasure escaped through Mistress Theia’s fingers, forcing my attention back to her. As she slowly dragged her hand away from the girl’s panting mouth, she also withdrew her hand from between the girl’s legs. That earned her a cry of desperation, but Mistress Theia rose onto her knees and gave her sub a look of disapproval. It didn’t matter that the blindfolded girl couldn’t see it.

  “Shh,” she ordered.

  The girl squirmed as much as she could while sandwiched between the sheets of plastic.

  Mistress Theia lifted her attention to one of the men seated nearby and held out an expectant hand. Had they discussed it before the show began? The guy reached into a bag near his feet, pulled out a cordless wand vibrator, and passed it to the waiting mistress.

  Her thumb pressed the button on the handle, and just the dull hum caused the blonde to whine with need. She knew what was coming and was eager for the pleasure the vibrator would give her.

  The head of the vibrator was ghosted over the girl’s nipple, and although she couldn’t see her domme’s smile, surely she could hear it in her voice. “Hmm. Do you want this?”

  “Yes, Mistress.”

  “Where? On your aching, little clit?”

  The girl swallowed so hard it was audible. “Yes, please.”

  “All right.” She moved the wand down, slipping it between the girl’s spread legs, and stroked the head once over her clit before lifting the vibrator away. “How was that?”

  The girl’s gasp began in pleasure and ended in frustration. She’d only been given a teasing hint and wanted much more. Once again, she tried to squirm, but the only thing it did was make the flexible frame of the bed around her bend slightly.

  “Mistress, please.”

  Mistress Theia giggled in delight, and the sexy sound shot right through me. It was stunning how much I liked hearing her satisfied, like secondhand pleasure.

  This time when the vibrator was pressed between the girl’s thighs, Mistress Theia left it there. She dragged a fist over her ponytail, smoothing the braids together, and pulled her hair over her shoulder so it would be out of her way. Then she leaned forward and set her hand flat on the girl’s chest, directly between her breasts. It was so she could brace herself as she knelt over her submissive and hold the vibrator tight to the girl’s clit.

  Short, gulping breaths were punctuated with her moans, and it was obvious how the pleasure was building inside her. The girl tried to move her knees, so the frame warped ever so slightly, and one corner lifted off the ground before quietly knocking back down to the floor. Only her chest could move as she gasped for air.

  The stillness and smooth latex coating made her look like a plastic doll. And it was sort of the same for the woman perched over her in the glossy bodysuit. She was like the other side of a coin. Covered in opaque black while the girl beneath her was covered in sheer white. Free to move and control, versus restrained and completely at someone else’s mercy.

  Top versus bottom.

  I never would have thought I’d be into something like this, but good lord, it was fucking hot.

  Mistress Theia ground the buzzing head of the vibrator against the girl, moving it in a tight circle, and liquid heat poured through me. Was it wrong to want to trade places with this girl? Because I did. I craved to feel the roll of the wand against my clit, to get relief from all the tension building inside me. I was sort of worried I might come right here in this chair, in a room full of people and the only touch was Clay’s hand resting on my shoulder, his fingers brushing over my collarbone.

  Would he like it if I did?

  Would the man across the room from me like it?

  Mistress Theia leaned further forward on her knees, which made her feet come off the floor, and the spikes of her boots lifted into the air. She didn’t notice. She was intently focused on what she was doing and determined to bring her submissive to orgasm.

  It seemed as inescapable as the vacuum-sealed bed. As the girl trembled, the sheet of latex stretched across the frame began to
vibrate. Needy cries tore from her lips, sounding sort of like panic, but it was clear it was pleasure.

  “I’m coming, Mistress,” she gasped. Her chin lifted as her head tipped backward, and then the orgasm consumed her.

  I clenched my teeth to keep from making a sound, leashing the moan I wanted to set loose. But a few others in the room didn’t stay quiet. There were noises of approval and whispered words of encouragement to both the domme and the submissive.

  And as the climax rolled through and began to recede, Mistress Theia didn’t let up. The shuddering sighs from her submissive changed in pitch and urgency, swinging from satisfaction to dread. Because she was overly sensitive, and now the vibrations no longer felt good. The head of the wand wasn’t bringing pleasure—it was discomfort.

  This time when she squirmed, it was with real effort to escape.

  A pleased, dark look splashed across Mistress Theia’s face as she turned off the vibrator and dropped it to the latex stretched between the girl’s legs. Her expression said that just because she’d stopped with the toy, didn’t mean she was done with the girl. She shifted so she was sitting on her heels, kneeling beside her submissive, and slapped her fingertips against the girl’s overstimulated clit.

  A sharp sound of surprise punched from the girl’s lungs. I don’t think it had hurt that badly, it was more that it hadn’t been expected. But her mistress’s second slap? That one wasn’t friendly, and the girl jolted. Each subsequent spanking increased in intensity, and the harsh sound created a song with a rhythm in pain.

  Mistress Theia swung her hand with purpose and skill, striking the girl exactly where she meant to, and this time when the blonde bucked against her cage, the lower half of the bed began to twist.

  But the domme’s laugh was as dark as the suit she wore. “That’s so cute. You think you can run from me.”

  She reared back and drove her hand down with a vicious slap, and the girl made a keening sound. It was like it had stung too badly for her to stay quiet, even though she was supposed to.

  The cold grip on my shoulder tightened, and I knew in an instant what this meant. Clay probably hadn’t done it on purpose. He was fighting against the arousal swelling inside him. If the first part of the show was for me—then this part was made for Clay.

  He got off on pain.

  Movement caught my eye. Earlier during the show, a couple had ducked out of the back, either no longer interested . . . or too turned on to stay. I wondered which it was for the man in the gray suit as he stood, keeping his chin tucked to his chest, and politely left.

  I stayed where I was, pinned under the tense grip of a man who said he liked to watch, all the way until the show was over and Mistress Theia had the girl cradled lovingly in her arms.

  Clay’s hand slid away, and he dropped down into now-empty seat beside me, his expression shuttered and giving nothing away. “What did you think?” His voice was forced casualness. “Did you enjoy the show?”

  “Yes.” I was breathless, and my heart was still racing. “I liked it a lot.”

  A relieved smile broke on his face, reaching all the way to his eyes trapped behind the dark frames he wore. I turned in my seat so my knees touched his, and set my hand on his thigh, not too close to make this private man uncomfortable, but high enough he couldn’t misinterpret my meaning.

  His gaze dipped down and evaluated the ballet pink nail polish at the ends of my fingertips.

  “Why don’t you take me home,” I said provocatively, “so you can fuck me?”

  “I don’t have to take you home to fuck you, Lilith.” His gaze rose oh-so-slowly to meet mine. “We’ll go upstairs.”

  Excitement fluttered inside me, then halted. Wait a minute. Hadn’t he said he didn’t fuck in front of other people? Everything was open on the second floor. “Are there private rooms up there?”

  He was already up, out of his seat. “No.”

  There was no explanation as he moved toward the doorway. It was clear I was supposed to follow. Was it possible his mysteriousness was intentional? He knew I was a curious person, and maybe he was playing that up, using my desire for answers to guide and control me.

  The stairs whined as we ascended them, but this time when we entered the main lounge, it wasn’t empty. People mingled in small groups, and some sat together on one side of the sectional that dominated the room.

  Clay led us to the empty side of the couch and sat down, gesturing for me to sit on the ottoman directly across from him. As I took my seat on the leather, I sensed that the room was watching us.

  “I feel like I’m,” I said quietly, “on display sitting here.”

  He angled his head, intrigued. “Does it bother you?”

  “No,” I admitted.

  “Can you blame them for looking?” His eyes were magnetic. “You’re the hottest girl in the club tonight. Maybe the hottest girl to ever come here.”

  I sucked in a breath, which tightened my corset around me. My breasts pushed against the boning, and the sensation was enjoyable. But I gave him a dubious look. “Hotter than Mistress Theia?”

  My question pleased him. “She’s hot,” he agreed, “but she’s a domme.” His gaze skated down my body like he was appreciating fine art. “For someone like me? You’re far more attractive.”

  “Because I’m submissive.”

  “Yes, you sure seem to be.” There was an electric current running between us, and the voltage increased when he sat forward and used a finger to nudge me to uncross my legs. “Did you like it earlier when I told you what to do?”

  My knees were now side-by-side, but I kept my thighs pressed tightly together beneath my skirt. “Yes.”

  “Are you turned on?” There was music playing in the room, along with conversations and laughter, but his voice was all I could hear. “Is your pussy wet?”

  “Yes,” I breathed.

  He sat back, relaxing in his seat, and casually draped an arm across the back of the couch. “Show me.”

  Thoughts vaporized in my brain for a moment. I tore my gaze away from him, checking to see if anyone had heard his command. Would I care if they had? As I scanned the room, no one appeared all that interested in us. The two couples on the opposite side of the couch had finished their conversation, because both women were slumped down in the cushions, their legs hooked over their husbands’ shoulders. Or maybe they’d swapped partners, and the guys were going down on each other’s wives.

  There was a sharp bite of pain on the top of my thigh, and I yelped with surprise, my gaze flying back to Clay. A red mark bloomed on my skin.

  “Did you just pinch me?”

  “We’ll have to work on your focus.” His tone was straightforward. “I said I want to see your pussy.”

  I exhaled loudly. He looked so stern and serious that more heat poured into my body. I was going to liquify under his watchful stare, and I was sure I’d love every minute of it.

  So, I wasn’t nervous when I leaned back on one arm, spread my knees, and hooked my fingers in the crotch of my thong, pulling it to the side. He’d seen plenty of me this afternoon, but this was more thrilling. I wasn’t just bare to him—anyone could see.

  I let Clay get his fill of looking before I spoke. It was supposed to be teasing, but my voice came out hushed. “Happy?”

  His gaze flicked to mine, and power flared in his eyes. He was happy. Beyond pleased with how I’d followed his directions. His hand on the back of the couch curled into a loose fist, like he wanted to touch me but then thought better of it.

  I let go of my panties and closed my legs, sitting up straight. “Are you going to fuck me here in this room when we’re not alone?”

  His aversion to the idea lasted only a blink of an eye, but it was unmistakable. Which didn’t make a lick of sense. Why’d he bring me here? His shields went up, hiding whatever thoughts were going through his head. “Do you want that?” he asked. “To be fucked while everyone watches?”

&nb
sp; I had an immediate answer of yes but didn’t want to blurt it out until I gave it real thought. In my peripheral vision, I could see the woman in the corner of the room, crouching in front of a man who had his pants down around his ankles and his dick in her mouth. They didn’t care I was watching them, and neither did the couples behind me. The men were still on their knees, heads moving between the women’s thighs, but now the women had their tops off and their lips locked together.

  There was a fog of lust in this room, and it seemed everyone was susceptible to it, including me. Everyone, that was, except for him. Clay’s eyes were focused and clear and promised to give me whatever I wanted.

  “Yes,” I whispered. “I want them to watch.”

  His smile was hesitant but genuine. “Okay.”

  Blood rushed hotly through my veins, bubbling with anticipation. I nearly burst when he stood up, expecting him to push me down onto my back on the oversized ottoman but . . . he didn’t. His attention swung toward the hallway. “Will you be all right on your own for a minute? I need to use the restroom.”

  “Oh,” I said, trying to get hold of myself. “Uh, sure.”

  He nodded and strode to the hallway, disappearing behind the door to the men’s room. With him gone, there was nothing to do but watch the people around me, and it didn’t take long to understand why Clay enjoyed coming here.

  Even as a spectator, it was incredibly hot.

  I turned around to face the couples across from me, where one of the men was now fucking the woman he’d been going down on. His pants were down just enough to cut across his bare ass, and his muscles flexed and hardened with each of his thrusts. And since I was turned halfway around, when the cushion I was sitting on flattened beneath me, I spun, expecting it to be Clay.

  “That was fast—oh,” I said.

  The woman had a toothy grin and lipstick that was bright red, and for a moment it was all I could see. Her tone was sugary-sweet. “Hey, you.”

  “Um, hi.” I pushed out a friendly, confused smile. I didn’t know this woman. She was quite a bit older than I was, wearing a lowcut black dress that was so tight, it looked like her boobs were going to pop out at any moment.