Billionaire Romance Boxed Set 2(90)

The dancer now leaned over the gypsy, pushing the skirt up and out of the way, revealing completely bare skin. The dancer delighted at it, slipping her fingers inside, and the gypsy’s head fell back.

But the tension rose again as the gypsy tugged a black scarf from her waist band, and the belly dancer did not appear to notice, caught up in the moist entry, splaying the folds wide.#p#分页标题#e#

Syria stilled, waiting to see what would happen, and Erik fondled her breast, easing his other hand across her hip. She could feel his erection against her back, and the urgency in his fingers made her spiral up another level of desire.

The dancer glanced up at the gypsy, but she was too late, the larger girl expertly wrapped the black scarf around the dancer’s wrists. In a swift motion, they had switched places, and now the dancer was on her back, hands tied above her.

The gypsy held the dancer’s arms above her head with one hand while sliding the other beneath the sparkling top of her outfit. The dancer struggled, defiant, so the gypsy rolled her over, quickly lashing her wrists to her ankles, immobilizing her.

Syria knew this was just an act, like Mia and Sam as pirates, but still, she found herself anxious for the dancer, hoping she would start to enjoy it. But maybe this was what the crowd wanted, to show things rough, advantage on someone weaker. She turned away.

“You will miss the best part,” Erik whispered, and Syria looked back, almost fearing what Erik would find the most titillating. The gypsy tore the beaded top from the bound dancer, exposing small, soft breasts, and squeezed them roughly. She yanked down the dancer’s voluminous pants, although they caught at the ankle on the ties.

The dancer girl squirmed and fought as the gypsy circled her.

“Erik, I really don’t think —” Syria stopped at the sight of another woman, this one in a blue belly dancer’s attire, flying through the air in a series of back flips and cartwheels. She did not hesitate but knocked the gypsy girl off her feet, sending the crowd into a cheer. Before the gypsy could move, her skirt was ripped off, and the naked girl was lying on her belly on the floor.

The blue dancer tied the gypsy’s hands behind her back, rolled her onto her skirt, and dragged her across the floor to one of the round pillars that separated sections of the hall. She tied the girl to the pole, and circled her, spanking her ass and walking up boldly to press fingers up between her legs.

But the gypsy did not show any signs of distress, smiling over her shoulder and spreading her feet wide. The blue dancer stepped away, shrugged, and bounded back over to the other dancer, freeing her from her bonds.

Together they chose a man from the crowd, probably the gypsy girl’s escort, and he approached the pillar. The belly dancers gestured that the girl was his, and he smiled broadly, shaking their hands.

The blue dancer lifted the other dancer in the air and spirited her across the room and out of sight.

The gypsy girl remained tied, sliding her hands down the pole so she could bend over. The man was given a paddle, and he ran his hand across the girl’s bottom and smacked her with it soundly. Syria thought she would turn away, but the expression on the girl’s face was dreamy, relaxed, as if this was exactly where she wanted to be, naked and spanked in front of a room full of people.

Erik turned her back around to face him and they edged onto the dance floor.

“Did you ever have your slave do something like that?” she asked.

He shook his head. “Not Ariana. It was not in her contract to do public spectacles. Malin, though, loves to be whipped more than I have the urge. So she would come here and do something similar. She would also like to be blindfolded and entered by strangers. She has very specific interests, and I do my best to accommodate them.”

Syria moved with him to the slow rhumba, realizing now why Malin might not be the best for what he was looking for in a slave.

“Do all slaves wear those collars?”

“Usually. In some instances, however, it is best not to be obvious.”

Syria wanted to ask, “Would I?” but asking that would be to accept that she was actually considering his offer. And that wasn’t possible, certainly not without talking to Tyson. She pictured his body pumping into that other girl, though, and wondered if they would even see each other again.

Erik must have sensed she had gotten melancholy because he pulled her in close and danced again. “Oh, my sweet Syria. I can make your life so simple and easy.”

“But what would you want from me?”

“For you to free yourself. You keep forcing yourself to act in ways that crush your spirit.”

The music sped up a little, but they kept their slower pace. Erik’s arms tightened around her, and the smooth fabric of his suit jacket was cool against her cheek.