Sympathy For The Devil (16 page)

I am way over my head in here.
Wandering around with a very pregnant Dani might’ve actually eased her nerves a little.

Still no sign of Archer. Tash spotted stairs hidden in an alcove and took a chance climbing them. It paid off, as they led to the mezzanine level where she’d been before. The area was unoccupied yet, even the box seats empty. She wandered the half-wall, peering through the wrought-iron lattice work that barred her from the rest of the club.

Still no Archer. Of course, many of the lower rooms were curtained off and she hadn’t gone looking. Maybe he skipped the drink this time, went right for the women. Outside of Stirling Falls, she had no doubt he’d easily pick one up. Or two. Or three.

Her stomach tightened with an odd sort of jealousy. Maybe because she’d invaded his privacy, watched him, given in on some level to her own denied lust, but the thought of him fucking one of the random women here
bothered
her in a way she didn’t like to think about.

A smattering of applause broke her from her reverie. If there’d been an announcement about what was going on, she’d missed it, but now she caught sight of people stepping onto the mirrored platform in middle of all the tables.

A blindfolded woman with bright red hair, in a binding leather corset, garters and nylons but no underwear, stepped onto the platform, steady in her knee-high fetish boots despite being unable to see where she walked. She paused in the center of the platform, facing the main part of the crowd.

The man that followed was in leather pants, boots, and nothing else. His broad, muscular chest was smooth, dark hair was pulled into a ponytail at the base of his neck. He carried a riding crop and trailed the end along the woman’s bare ass, teasing her before he struck.

Despite her distance from them, Tash could swear she heard the moment the leather struck flesh, a resounding
crack
. Her whole body tingled and grew restless. She should stop staring, keeping looking for Archer, but her gaze remained locked on the show.

The man ran the crop up and down the inside of the redhead’s thighs, urging her feet hip-width apart, exposing her shaved pussy to the crowd. This time he slapped her mound, her already blushing flesh turning crimson.

Tash crossed her arms at her midsection, fidgeting, gazing through the wrought-iron bars in fascination. What would it be like to be the center of a show like that, blindfolded, spanked,
watched
? Before she’d devoted herself twenty-four-seven to working for Malone, and taking over for him, her sporadic sex life had been fairly vanilla. Certainly nothing like
this
. But she was so exhausted some nights, she couldn’t imagine having to come home to a boyfriend, to engage with him when her mind was elsewhere, thinking about work. How would it feel to give up all of that stress and worry at the end of the day and totally submit to the will of another? To give up thinking and just feel, just obey, to be under his command in the bedroom.

The man on the stage had set aside the crop, ran his hands up and down the woman’s legs, parting them even further for the crowd. A second man joined him, this one dressed similarly but with closely cropped dark blond hair. He carried silk-lined handcuffs, bound the woman’s hands behind her back. The crowd had grown silent though hands were moving, people touching their partners, touching themselves, the eyes of nearly everyone entirely invested in what was occurring on stage.

And then she felt the presence before her mind acknowledged it, a sudden heat near her back. Before she could turn, hands came up on either side of her, latching onto the lattice work at the height of her shoulders and trapping her there.

She didn’t look at him, embarrassment rising, wishing she could just disappear into the floor. His breath tickled her ear, sent shivers down her neck.

“Enjoying the show, Natasha?”

Shit. Shit.
Her lips trembled, like she’d completely lost her ability to speak.

Archer wasn’t backing off—she felt him closer still, nearly touching her back. “So are you a voyeur? You like watching?”

Her face was practically on fire. “No,” she said sharply.

“Really?” His fingers flexed around the bars, voice rough and still playing with her ear. “So you didn’t see anything interesting last night?”

Oh God, he knew.
He knew
. Her entire body froze except for the trembling spilling through her limbs.

His hands left the bars but she didn’t try to squeeze past him, standing stock-still. Waiting. And then he touched her, fingers wrapping firmly around her hips. “Relax,” he whispered against her ear. “Watch.”

She did. Or tried to. She refocused on the stage, tried not to pay attention to the feel of him holding her hips so tight or the way he breathed right next to her ear. Or her own reaction to his proximity, nipples hardening into firm peaks and pressing against her lacy bra, wet heat spreading between her legs. Her pussy clenched, craving and longing.

The blindfolded redhead was on her knees now, hands still bound behind her back, lips wrapped around the cock of the blond man. Her head bobbed but under his control, his fingers locked on handfuls of her hair. Demanding, forcing her submission to him.

Involuntarily Tash licked her lips, her heart thudding.

“What I’m wondering,” he whispered in a gravelly voice, one that raced right under her skin and between her legs. “Is precisely how wet you are right now.”

God, she could just die. Her chest heaved, breaths either panicked or aroused, she didn’t know anymore. Maybe both.

He took her wrists one by one, prying her hands from her sides where she hugged herself. Her purse slipped to the crook of her arm and then thumped at her feet as he briefly dropped her wrist. He pulled her hands up, wrapping her fingers around the wrought-iron lattice bars.

“At the moment I don’t think you’re likely to say yes, but I also suspect you don’t want to say no.” His hands settled on her hips again and this time he stepped forward so he was flush against her. The heels added enough to her height that the rigid column of his cock was pressed right into the cleft of her ass. “So let’s make this easy. Your safe word is your name. You say that, and I stop. Do you understand, Natasha?”

Say her name. That was easy enough. She could utter it right now, make a run for it...

“Nod twice for yes, darlin’.”

Slowly she nodded. Once. Twice.

It was done.

“Keep your hands on the bars,” he warned. “And keep watching.”

She braced, not sure what she was expecting, but it wasn’t his hands sliding from her hips and moving upward, over her quivering stomach to possessively grip her breasts. His mouth lingered on her throat and she tipped her head to the side, giving him access. Her nipples were already painfully hard, pleasure zigzagging south as he rubbed them. His touch was somewhere between a massage and a rough grasp, using just enough force that the way he rolled her breasts in his hands bordered on painful. With the pain came a pleasant thrill she couldn’t get enough of.

Involuntarily she leaned into him while thrusting out her chest. She wished he’d pull down her camisole, wished he’d snap off her bra and really touch her. But he didn’t stay there long, instead one hand taking a firm grip on her hip to hold her against him while the other slid down her thigh, gathering the hem of her skirt.

Natasha. Just say your name. Natasha
.

But she didn’t—didn’t even want to. And while she kept her eyes on the threesome, on the dark-haired man taking the crop again to whip the woman as she sucked off the blond, it was Devin Archer who had her full attention. His hand slid up the inside of her thigh, purposefully
achingly
slow. He eased her legs apart and with the slightest nudge, she took a wider stance.

The moment his fingers touched her panty-clad pussy, she knew he felt her wetness, could all but sense his self-satisfied grin. Her grip tightened on the bars and she swore at least one thing to herself: she wouldn’t give in and take the easy way out purely because of embarrassment. Fear, yes. Unwanted pain, yes. But not just because her cheeks got pink as he found her obvious arousal.

“Do you like watching them?” he whispered. “Ever had your ass whipped red, Natasha?”

The more times he said her name, the more she felt like he was taking ownership of it. And while he spoke, he stroked her through the wet silk of her panties, gliding up and down, stopping to trace tight little circles around her clit. She gasped, blinking as arousal threatened to close her eyes.

“Have you?” he repeated.

“No,” she mumbled in a half-moan.

“Would you like to?”

Oh hell, she couldn’t answer that. Couldn’t tell him that she could barely take her eyes from where the crop met the redhead’s ass, imaging how that would feel. Couldn’t tell him that she imagined him doing it to her.

“Because I’d like to see that sometime,” he continued. “See you bent over a bench, your pretty ass in the air, and your knees tied to keep you down. Feel how hard I am just thinking about spanking you?” He rubbed his erection deliberately against her ass again. His body pushed closer to hers, urging her nearer to the half-wall. She felt deliciously trapped, her control lost and all she could do was give herself over to sensation.

His fingers pushed past her panties, pressing directly against her sensitive skin. She moaned even as she tried to clamp down on it, part of her wanting to deny how he made her feel. He slid one digit into her, thumb stroking her clit.

She was panting, leaning forward heavily and using the lattice bars to keep her upright. Her hips moved to meet the thrusts of his fingers, her body shamefully taking over. He touched her smoothly, surely, like he read her every breath and movement and knew exactly what she wanted.

His other hand left her and a moment later she heard the parting of his fly. Her own name hovered on her lips.
Natasha
. Touching her was one thing; fucking her was another.

“You just have to say it,” Archer whispered, still rubbing her, sending sparks of pleasure through her lower half each time his thumb brushed her clit.

Say it
. Her lips parted. “Condom.”

“Right here.” And perhaps deliberately the plastic crackled.

It assuaged her worry though if he’d said no, she wasn’t entirely certain in that second if she’d have objected.

He drew up the back of her skirt, rubbing her ass and grasping a handful of her silk panties. “I hope you’re not attached to these.” Before she could object, the fabric tore, exposing her ass to him. Feet between her ankles, he urged her legs even farther apart.

His hand abandoned her pussy, positioning her better instead. She sensed a moment of hesitation, giving her a moment to object, to scream her name, to run. Her lips were trembling, breaths panting, and she couldn’t even think straight—her pussy ached, wanting him inside her, and nothing else in that moment mattered.

“Fuck me,” she whispered.

“One thing,” he said in a low, dark voice, “you’re going to figure out pretty quickly...” The broad head of his cock rubbed up and down her slit from behind, eliciting a groan from her. “...is that I don’t take orders.”

She was shaking, craving him in her. “Please.
Please.
”

“Better.” And he thrust into her, all of him driving into her slick channel in one swift movement.

She nearly collapsed, hanging off the bars, body acclimating to his length and girth. She’d seen him last night, imagined this, but had never guessed it would feel this fucking good, stretching her, filling her.

Archer pulled out and then surged forward again. His thrusting lit a fire in her and she rocked with him, finding a rhythm. The people below were forgotten, the bare asses raised, exposed breasts, the sucking and the fucking. The world narrowed until it was just him and her, his cock in her pussy, his hands roaming her body.

His arm came over her shoulder, hand diving down into her camisole, past her bra, possessively grasping her breast, squeezing. “Tell me. When you were watching me last night, did it make you wet?”

When she didn’t answer, he abandoned her breast, grasped her hair, forced her head to turn, neck craned, until she could see him. See his dark blue eyes glassy with lust, his mouth so near hers, his breath rasping against her check.

She couldn’t look away from his fierce, dark eyes, no matter how she tried—and she didn’t think, either, that she could lie to him. “Yes.”

He gave no sign of surprise, just a knowing look as he continued to thrust his cock into her. “Did you get yourself off after?”

Oh my God
. Again, her eyes wanted to close, her mouth wanted to lie, but she couldn’t. And when the floor didn’t open up to swallow her from embarrassment, she admitted, “Yes.”

“Do you want to know what I was thinking about last night? When you were watching me in the shower, stroking my dick?”

Part of her was mortified, still, but she couldn’t say it, couldn’t think of how to apologize, if she even
wanted to
apologize now. The scent and sounds of their arousal filled the air, drowned out all rational thought.

His free hand snaked around her waist again, hiking up the front of her skirt, going straight for her swollen, needy clit. “You,” he growled. “You tied up, bent to my will.”

He could’ve tied her up right then and she’d let him, do anything he told her. When his lips came down on hers savagely, she yielded completely, giving her body over entirely to him. His hand tightened in her hair as he kissed her, mouth demanding and taking over. She was pressed almost entirely into the wrought-iron lattice now, one nipple exposed and rubbing against the cool metal as their bodies rocked. He thrust into her violently, punishingly, and she might’ve come even without the attention on her clit. The sensations were overwhelming, orgasm baring down on her. His mouth swallowed her cries as stark, sudden pleasure blasted through her body, spiraling from her spasming pussy and outward. Bliss echoed through her limbs, her veins, right into her bones.