Red Handed(79)

Cole swept his fingers down the length of her neck and across her collarbone. “I want to make love to you here. I want you to see every facet of me so you know there’s not a part of me that doesn’t love every part of you. I didn’t used to believe in love at first sight, but it was as if something inside me woke up when I caught you looking at me from the stairs of your house. I hadn’t known what to call it back then, but now I think it was love—or at least the realization I would love you one day.”

A warmth filled her chest. He’d felt the same connection as she had all those years ago. He loved her, and she loved him. Why couldn’t that be enough for her?

She ventured farther into the room and caressed the gauzy netting. “I would have thought a mirror room would look more like one of those rooms in a funhouse, but this . . . I’ve never seen anything more beautiful.”

He moved in behind her, surrounding her with his heat, his steely erection prodding her backside. “I have. Every time I look at you.”

She glanced over at the covered window. “I’m frightened.”

“Of what?” He captured her chin between his thumb and finger and tipped up her head, stealing her ability to look away. “Of me?”

A shiver ran down the length of her spine, hardening her nipples. “Of how much I want this.” She’d bared herself in front of the members when Adrian and Logan had tied her up, but that time, she’d been blindfolded.

Cole and Danielle breathed in sync, as if they were one, their chests rising and falling together.

“What is your safe word?” he whispered in her ear, his dark and delicious voice sending tingles straight to her clitoris.

She turned in his arms. “Red, Master.”

He hissed through his teeth, and his pupils dilated, his body jerking as if the word Master had taken physical form. “When the music begins, you will strip. Slowly. Seductively. Dance and move your body as though a thousand hands are touching you.” He jutted his chin toward the window. “Tease those men and women out there with what they cannot have. What they cannot touch. Show them how drenched your pussy gets knowing they can see you. And when the moment is right, your Master will fuck you so hard and so good, they’ll hear your screaming in the dungeon.”

Her vaginal muscles clenched, and arousal spread to her outer folds, her pussy preparing to be filled. She felt weightless, as if she was floating a foot off the floor, and her body buzzed with need from the awareness of those who waited behind the covered window. She couldn’t see them yet, but she sensed their anticipation like a beacon in the sky on a starless night.

“Will you do something for me? Wear the blindfold as I dance. Imagine me dancing for you. My hands on my breasts. My pussy drenched with my arousal. Can you do that for me? Please?”

“Yes. As long as you include some vocals for me. We’ll hear you in the hall through an audio feed.” Cole seized her lips, staking his ownership of her. Without warning, he tore himself away and strode out of the room, leaving her panting and desperate for release.

The door closed, and the window blinds began to rise, giving her glimpses of the crowd that had gathered in the hallway. They were shadows, outlines of people without defining characteristics—only eyes—while she was in the spotlight, no longer hiding her true self.

Soft music began to play, a familiar song about sex and desire. The rush of her pulse roared so loudly in her ears that she could barely distinguish the beat of the music from her own heart.

She moaned and sighed as she ran her hands down her sides and swiveled her hips in a seductive imitation of sex. Heat built in her pussy as she caught the flames of desire in her audience’s eyes. She dragged her corset down until it lay on the floor, baring her breasts to the eager voyeurs. Cole’s words played in her head, a whisper of instructions she had no choice but to obey. She pinched her nipples and massaged her generous breasts, and it was as if there were a dozen other hands on them in addition to her own.

Five minutes. Ten minutes. There was no measure of time.

Her body was on fire.

She dipped her hands into her panties and rubbed her finger over her clitoris. “Oh, Master. My pussy is soaking wet, and my clit is swollen. It feels so good to touch it, but my fingers aren’t enough.”

The crowd wanted more. They wanted to see. So she tugged the drenched fabric down her legs and gave it to them.

Power swept through her, emboldening her, and it was being fed by the slack-jawed response of her audience at her naked body. Her legs trembled, and she wobbled on her Prada heels.

She lowered herself to the floor and crawled to the center of the room, catching sight of herself in the mirrors all around her. Her breasts hung heavy, and the muscles in her ass flexed as she moved on her hands and knees.