“I didn’t…”
He ignored her. “I do wonder,” he began, “if I slipped my hand inside your panties now,” his fingers trailed along her thigh, slowly raising her dress. “Would they be wet?” he asked, running a finger across the lacy fabric.
She tensed, wanting his hands off of her body, but knowing she was powerless.
“Oh, my…” He removed his hand and brought his fingers to her lips, smearing the stuff like sticky lip gloss. “My little whore.”
She felt her face redden as he led her forward, pinching her hard when she resisted. He was right, she was a whore. How had things come to this?
Hardwood floors turned to carpeted floors and the soft sound of opera music and the crackling of wood in a fireplace filled her ears.
Too late. It was too late.
“Take her to the fire,” an unfamiliar voice said. “She’s shivering.”
She wasn’t shaking from cold.
“Aren’t you going to introduce your beauty?” someone asked.
Another man chuckled. How many were there?
“Gentlemen, this is Emma.”
“Lovely,” someone said before the room grew quiet again.
There was a faint scent of books, old books, and the stale smell of a pipe smoked hours ago. Although the fire was warm at her back, she felt cold and alone.
Someone held a glass to her lips. Whiskey. She turned her face.
“Drink,” Damien said from several feet away. “It will relax you.”
Whoever was holding the cup pressed it to her lips. She drank the contents down and coughed with the aftershock of it. Although she was grateful for the drink, she needed to keep her wits about her.
“Strip her,” a man said.
It took all she had to remain still like Damien had taught her, like she instinctively knew she should. She was going to be stripped naked while Luke Roark watched.
“Breathe.”
She stiffened, smelling Luke’s aftershave even before he whispered that one command close to her ear. “Emma,” he said, his voice a deep whisper.
No, it was worse than she thought. He wouldn’t just be watching. He’d be doing the stripping.
Without intending to, she whispered Damien’s name. But she knew Damien wouldn’t save her.
“No, not Damien,” Luke began. “Sir or Master will do well enough though,” he kept going as cold sweat pooled under her arms. She’d had a crush on him for years when she’d been a teenager. In fact, she’d imagined moments when he’d be stripping her many a night while her fingers worked inside her panties. But it wasn’t ever like this, where she’d agreed to be offered as a bought-and-paid-for sex toy to a room full of men.
His hands were remarkably gentle when he, without touching her skin, untied the knot at the back of her neck and slowly opened the dress to her waist, presenting her breasts to the room. She shuddered when, a moment later, he cupped them, kneading the nipples into hard points before pushing the dress down her body to pool around her feet. “Step out of the dress,” he said, his voice softer.
She stumbled as she did but with a hand at her elbow, he righted her. She could feel him behind her, to the side of her, circling around her while she stood exposed but for the small triangle of lace covering her sex, her thigh-high stockings and pumps. She struggled not to pull against her restraints while hot tears moistened the blindfold.
“Legs wider, Emma.” Although his voice sounded thicker with arousal, she knew it was the same man who’d ordered her to be stripped earlier.
“Do you need help?” Luke asked when she didn’t comply quickly enough.
Without answering him, she shifted her feet, standing with her legs slightly farther than hip distance.
He didn’t know it was her just yet, but she was sure the blindfold was coming off and soon. When his fingers traced her shoulders, a shock made her gasp. She tried to move away, but he twined them in her hair, pulling just a little. “Be still,” he commanded quietly.
“You’re safe, Emma. No one will hurt you,” Damien said from a distance. His words broke the spell and she realized she felt safer with Luke Roark stripping her than with Damien’s weak promise.
“Don’t coddle her, Damien. Your girl chose to come, remember that,” Luke said.
She flinched at his words but was simultaneously aroused by them, by his absolute power. And he was right: she was aroused; she wanted this.
Luke was so close that his breath moistened her flesh. He inhaled at her neck and shoulders, making every hair stand on end as she tried to anticipate his next move. “Beautiful,” he said after a few moments, his voice a low, deep growl.
“She’s trembling, Luke, give her some space,” a man said, but Luke didn’t move.