Billionaire Romance Boxed Set 2(89)
Erik still didn’t turn her, just held her close. Syria looked to the sides of the room, where tables still lined the walls, the cloths changed from crisp white to black. On one, a woman sat smack in the middle, leaning back on her hands, and a man lifted one of her legs to his shoulders like they were at a speakeasy.
The shift to a retro club atmosphere clearly meant anything goes. Syria had never been to a place where people could have sex in public, except at that bondage exhibition. And of course, Erik had been there.
The man by the table pushed the girl’s skirt up past her hips and dropped his face between her legs. Syria whirled around to Erik. “What is this place?”
He pushed some errant hair away from her face. “Nothing you can’t handle. Just couples, dancing and enjoying each other.”
She looked over her shoulder. Another man was peeling a dress from a voluptuous redhead, her hair trailing down her naked back. Her black bra stood out starkly against her skin. Another woman reached behind her to unhook it, and yet another woman leaned in to the newly freed breasts to greedily cover the exposed nipple in her mouth.
The two women and the man feasted on her with mouths and hands, pulling off her shoes, easing down her panties.
Syria gripped Erik harder. “Is this some sort of test?”
He shook his head. “Just a place I like to come.”
The noise level surged as the band filled in behind the sax player. Erik pulled Syria into another slow rhythm, lightly touching her arm as she stared across the room. Some of the couples just danced, like they were. Some talked at tables. In fact, much of the room looked normal, until your eyes fell upon a couple overcome with each other, not bothering to leave or find a hidden spot, but moving into each other, slipping out of clothes.
She caught sight of a silver ring on a woman’s neck. “Are there other slaves here?”
“Yes,” he said. “Some like to get their possessions together for floor shows.”
Syria wasn’t sure how safe she was with Erik. He hadn’t told her what they were getting into. “Did you plan for me to see this all along?”
“No. It depended entirely upon how you acted when I made my offer.”
“But I declined.”
“I sensed you were still not quite decided.” He led her into a slow twirl. “And I still sense you have some interest.”
Syria didn’t answer, caught by another scene. Two women circled each other in an elaborate dance as a small crowd watched. It looked scripted, a bit like Aliara and Malin in the studio.
The first woman, in a belly dancer’s red flowing pants and beaded top, spun and leapt to stay out of reach of the other woman, who wore a black gyspy-styled skirt and peasant top that exposed a circle of twinkling gems around her belly button.
The gypsy girl lunged and swiped at the dancer girl as if on the attack, but she always escaped. At last, the gypsy kneeled, letting the other girl dance around her in bold leaps and spins. The gypsy girl tore at her own peasant top, rending it so her large, dark breasts spilled out, heavy as melons and the color of caramel.
The belly dancer slowed down, mesmerized by the display. The gypsy lay back, letting the skirt fall up to her knees.
Syria realized she wasn’t dancing with Erik anymore, but standing to watch. Erik maneuvered them to the edge of the dance floor so they could see better, his hands kneading her waist through her dress.
The dancer walked in a lazy circle around the gypsy, whose mass of black curls spilled across the floor from a black bandanna. Her skirt rode up her thighs and the crowd seemed tense, waiting to see what would happen, if the dancer would be lured in.
The girl in red bent down and scooped up the torn bodice, bringing it to her nose and caressing her cheek. Her feet worked an elaborate pattern as she circled the other girl, then she kneeled next to her, still gyrating from her waist, unsure.
The gypsy took the belly dancer’s hand and laid it on an ample breast. The dancer closed her eyes, slowing her gyration, and let go of the stolen shirt. The gypsy girl moved the dancer’s hand to her thigh and slid it up beneath the skirt.
Syria could feel herself spiraling up as she watched, the heat between her legs becoming fierce. Erik stayed behind her, rocking gently, kneading her muscles, and when his hand slid back to the space beneath her breast, she didn’t pull away. The fire began to lick at her, and she leaned into him, wanting it, needing to feel something like those girls were showing her.
He recognized her acquiescence and cupped her breast completely. Syria moaned gently, trying not to let it go too far, but not wanting to force herself out of the easy seduction. She’d learned in these past weeks with Tyson and Mia how amazing and open her life could be if she just let go of her old inhibitions.