“Don’t you want to be surprised?”
His hand rests on my knee as the driver pulls away into the evening. I rest my hand over his, dragging my fingers along the veins in his hand.
Tag leans over and nips at my ear. “I don’t care what we do, as long as I’m doing it with you.”
Cupping his cheek, I pull his mouth towards mine and kiss him. I don’t care that we’re in the back of a dark taxi. I need his touch more than anything.
It’s a scary thought, but the moment his tongue touches mine, every thought flies from my head.
All I want is Tag.
Heat swirls around us as desire takes root in my chest. I arch into his touch as he swallows my quiet gasps.
Something I’ve learned about Tag is he is an excellent kisser. Soft. Firm. Controlled.
I’ve never experienced anything like it.
“Here.”
I’m in a daze as I pull back, staring at his lust-filled eyes.
“Want to say fuck it to the evening and head home?” Tag asks, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear.
I shake my head, pulling out the fare to pay the cab driver. “No.”
He groans next to me. “Fine.”
“Trust me. You’ll enjoy this evening.”
“And where exactly is this evening taking place?” A row of townhouses is stretched out before us as we step onto the sidewalk. “Are you going to harvest my organs?”
I swat at his chest as I find the correct house. It’s white stone with a black door and a light shining out the front window.
“There will be none of that this evening,” I tell him, linking hands and dragging him towards the door. “Not that I would have the pertinent skills to do that.”
“That’s the only thing that is stopping you?”
Tag laughs as I knock on the door. The door opens to reveal a woman dressed in a black silk robe. Her dark hair is slicked back in a low bun and her face is expertly made up.
“You must be Miss Montrose.”
“Hi there.”
“Welcome, welcome.” She sweeps us into the entryway. “Welcome to the Lust Supper.”
The door clicks shut behind us as Tag crowds behind me.
“Did I hear her correctly?” he whispers.
“Please, follow me. My name is Wendy and I will be your host this evening.”
I don’t reply as I follow her up two sets of stairs. The walls are bare, nothing but paint coating them. On the second floor, a small table sits holding a single lamp and mirror. We’re led to another room right off the landing.
“This will be your room for the evening. Once you’reready, dinner will be served across the hall. It will be ready whenever you are, and once finished, you may return to your room for the rest of the evening. As a reminder, the rooms are soundproof, so you can be as loud or as quiet as you like.”
With a wink, she bows her way out of the room and the two of us are left alone.
The lamps are dim, covered in red silk, casting romantic shadows across the room. The large bed is covered in rose petals, and a bottle of champagne rests in a silver bucket on the dresser.
