“Hello and welcome to the white room of The Berkshire. I’m Knox and will be the moderator this evening. Tonight will be a voyeuristic experience. One where it will seem like the performing couple doesn’t even know you’re watching. As if you’re privy to the illicit act and stealing a view without their approval.”
My breath turned shallow as I imagined the scene: a private moment when you know someone’s watching, but you don’t know who. I imagined the fear that they could get you in trouble or the thrill of them liking what they see and getting off on it.
“Excited, princess?” Lucian whispered.
My teeth dug into my lip, and I nodded eagerly, earning a deep chuckle from him.
“To enhance this experience, we ask that you keep your actions as silent as possible. If you find yourself needing to be louder,” Knox said with a wink and a wicked smirk. “Please feel free to quietly move to another room. Without further ado, please welcome our performing couple who will be utilizing this Tantra chair, a Kama Sutra divan that you can find in multiple rooms throughout the club.”
Knox left the stage, and the lights over the audience dimmed.
I started to step forward, but Lucian caught me gently and turned me back to him. His hands framed my face, anchoring me as he looked down with quiet sincerity, claiming every ounce of my attention.
“I created this scene to help you confront your past.”
I swallowed as nerves rushed through me, but his steady gaze kept me grounded.
“I want you to embrace all of yourself and trust me to help you do that.”
I nodded, sliding my tongue across dry lips.
“What’s your safe word?” he asked—a subtle way of reminding me that I still have control without expressly saying it.
“Green.”
His lips quirked into a smile made all the warmer by the pride shining in his eyes. He led me up the stairs to the stage, circling until he stood behind me and pressed his chest tight against my back. “I’ll guide you,” he murmured against my ear.
“Yes, Sir,” I breathed, rolling my head back to his shoulder.
His hands skimmed up and down my body, bringing my skin to life, pressing lingering kisses to my shoulder and working back to my ear. “How was work, baby?” he asked as if it were a normal day at home.
I struggled to focus on answering and not on the way he cupped my breasts. “It was…”
My interaction with Emily in the elevator came roaring back.
I’m sure that marrying the heiress to Quinn Music Group helped resolve everything he needed.
Mr. Daire can be awfully elusive when it comes to sticking to commitments.
A cascade of emotions twisted my stomach into knots, pulling me out of the present. Then a sharp pinch at my nipples snapped me back, and I leaned into it—choosing the here and now.
“It was good,” I answered, leaning into the bite of pain.
He hummed his pleasure. “Now, I’m going to take your panties off first. Then your skirt. You can keep this top and those sexy as fuck boots on.”
Chills spread from where his breath caressed my neck, and the deep rumble of his voice vibrated against my back. Fingers slipped up my leg and under my skirt, hooking around the hips of my lace thong, tugging down. God, I loved the sensation of his rough hands gently removing my panties, baring me just for him.
The skirt followed, allowing cool air to brush against my damp core, reminding me how exposed I was. My mind tried to stray—tried to wonder what the audience thought when they looked at me, but then I reminded myself that he had me exactly how he wanted me, and nothing else mattered. He was my Dominant, and the only thing I needed to worry about waspleasing him. Everything else washed away, leaving room to just feel.
“Lie down,” he ordered.
The chair mimicked a wave with two arcs, one higher than the other, and a dip in between. Unsure how to place myself, I went with what felt most natural and sat in the middle, leaning my back against the higher curve and draping my legs over the lower one. By the time I settled, Lucian had stripped his shirt and was working on his pants.
My mouth went dry as I panted, eyes devouring every sculpted line of his chest and abs. I’d never imagined being drawn to chest hair, yet the dark smattering between his pecs always sent my arousal skyrocketing. When his pants slid lower, revealing the deep grooves at his hips, a helpless moan slipped free.
I slicked my tongue across my lips, imagining tracing the ridges down to his hard cock. “Oh, god,” I whimpered.
He smirked and pushed my legs to either side of the chair, spreading me open, before swinging his own leg over the seat. He lowered himself and grabbed my waist, scooting me up the higher arc before re-situating us with my legs over his. His hands skimmed up from my thighs, one settling between my legs, collecting moisture from my entrance to circle around my clit as the other cupped my breast and rolled my nipple through my top.
