“What pleasure?” I whisper, not trusting my voice enough to speak any louder.
Just as I say the words, the man steps forward and reaches between the woman’s legs. I widen my eyes again, and my breathing hitches. The woman’s mouth falls open as his hand moves forward and his fingers disappear inside of her. She’s pushing her ass backward, giving her body to him to use.
“That’s pleasure,” Izzy says with a hint of laughter.
He curls the whip in his fist, using one finger to trace the red lashes running down her ass as he thrusts his other fingers into her. His touch isn’t gentle. His arm flexes with each push of his fingers, sliding them deeper.
Izzy leans over, invading my personal space, but I’m too caught up in the couple to notice. “Breathe,” she tells me.
I hadn’t realized I’d been holding my breath. I’d been so consumed with the couple and the need on the woman’s face to pay attention to myself. I gasp, sucking air like I’d just come from underwater after holding my breath for longer than necessary.
The man steps away, his fingers glistening with her arousal in the overhead light. The woman straightens her head like she’s been brought back to reality, forced out of whatever pleasurable world she was in moments ago.
He raises his arm and the whip comes down harder, and I swear I hear the impact of the leather against her ass. I jolt a little, scared and strangely aroused.
“Bianca, you have a scene like this in one of your books, yeah?” Daphne asks, but her voice seems too quiet and distant when she speaks.
“Something like this,” Bianca replies, and I turn my head, looking at her.
I shouldn’t be surprised by her revelation. She is Bianca May, worldwide bestselling author of spicy romance.
Bianca’s eyes are fixed on the couple too, but there’s no shock or surprise on her face like there is on mine. “My heroines are pleading for it, though. They’re a little saucier, talking back and begging to be whipped.”
I turn back around without saying another word, thinking it’s time for me to pick up my first Bianca May novel because there’s more to her than meets the eye. There had to be, though. Vinnie is a wild one, and not just any woman could capture his heart and tame the man the way she has.
“This is way better than strippers,” Delilah says, and I realize we’re all pressed against the glass, staring.
“Dude, look at that guy’s cock,” Daphne says, but I don’t know which guy or cock because there are so many freaking naked people in front of us, I don’t know where to look first.
“Oh,” Max coos somewhere to my right. “That’s quite a piercing.”
“I bet that feels amazing,” Suzy says.
I feel like I’m stuck somewhere in the naughtiest Twilight Zone episode, where all my relatives are freaks, and I suddenly realize I am too.
There’s a dull ache between my legs and a feeling of emptiness. A small part of me wishes Angelo were here to quench the need and fill me like only he can. But then there’s the other part, the part that wonders what he’d think about all this and the fact that I can’t stop staring at the people, their nudity, and the carnal acts taking place only a few dozen feet away.
The door opens behind us, the room momentarily filling with light from the hallway. “We’ll take another round,” Izzy says without looking backward.
No one moves. We all seem to be in a trance as the man’s hand and whip come down repeatedly against the woman’s ass until she’s practically hanging from the cross, only held up by the leather restraints on her extremities.
The light dances through our room, shadows moving across the floor and covering our bodies. “Well, well, well, what do we have here?” a man says, and Izzy gasps, turning so fast, she almost knocks me over.
My already frozen body stiffens further, and I know in an instant who’s behind us.
Shit.
5
Angelo
I’ve never seen that look in Izzy’s eyes before. Part fear, somewhat aroused. The same look is on the face of every woman in the room.
James walks into the room first, striding toward his wife with his shoulders pushed back and a smirk moving across his lips. “You couldn’t stay away, could you, sweetheart?”
My eyes search the darkened room, seeking out my bride-to-be. Tilly’s standing by the window, one hand on the glass with her head tilted down, staring at the floor. Her shoulders are bunched up near her ears like she’s trying to recoil inside herself or ashamed to be caught.
Is that what we did? Caught them doing something they shouldn’t?
