Oh gods. What kind of crazy sex party had she just agreed to? That worrisome thought remained paramount right up until the elevator lurched to a stop. The image of naked bodies and orgies still tumbling through her brain, Avily shuffled through the doors—and collided with the individual striding down the hall.
A hand steadied her.
“Someone needs to lock me up before I hurt someone.” Struggling to straighten her eyeglasses, she grimaced and shot an apologetic glance upward.
Her gaze crashed into Thane’s.
In slow motion, she watched his eyes widen in recognition and shock—no doubt a mirror duplicate of her own expression. He opened his mouth, but it was her assessment of the looming disaster that beat him to the punch line.
“Oh. Shit.”
Chapter Seventeen
Bloody. Hell. When he’d warned Avi to be prepared for anything that might be thrown at them, he hadn’t anticipated a colossal clusterfuck like this.
Thinking fast, Jerrick sidled next to Avi. Praying Francesca would take his fierce countenance for protective instinct, he grasped Avi’s shoulder and aimed a hard look at Thane. “Mistress Scarlett, is this man disturbing you? Shall I break his kneecaps?” Hell, it was worth a damn shot.
Thane raised an eyebrow, his lips quirking.
Avily shook from such an excess of nervous tension, Jerrick swore she’d chatter her teeth straight out of her mouth. “N-no. Absolutely not, sub Bill. This man shouldn’t pay the price for my clumsiness.”
“Are you okay?” Francesca demanded, concern etched into her porcelain features.
Avily waved a hand dismissively. Another man strode toward them, nabbing Francesca’s attention with a discreet nod. Excusing herself, she crossed the room and spoke in a low tone with the gentleman.
Taking advantage of their few stolen seconds of privacy, Jerrick dropped his voice to a deadly whisper directed at Thane. “You will pretend to have never met us. Is that clear?”
“Seeing how I don’t relish those broken kneecaps—crystal.”
“Good.”
The soft swish of silk and the exotic essence of moonflower marked Francesca’s approach. “Apologies. My manager sometimes forgets it’s his job to take care of trivial operation matters.” She shifted her focus to Avily. “Please allow me to introduce you to Mr. Thane Pearce. He’s appraising my art collection.”
Thane took Avily’s hand in his and lifted it to his lips. “A pleasure to meet you, Mistress.”
Jerrick eyed the mouth glued to Avily’s knuckles, his own knuckles itching to relocate Thane’s nose. The man turned his attention to Jerrick, his eyes sparkling. “Likewise to you, sub Bill.”
He was permanently banning that damn name from his list of aliases.
“I was giving Mistress Scarlett and her sub a tour of the club. Perhaps you would like to join us, Mr. Pearce?”
Damn it. Jerrick struggled to cage his growl.
“I would love that. And please, call me Thane.” The man’s wolfish smile grated on Jerrick.
With Francesca marshaling their odd little entourage, they headed toward the far corridor. The going was slow since every few feet Thane would halt their journey so he could wax poetic over the various rare and valuable antiquities scattered throughout the nooks and crannies of the mansion. Despite his annoyance at the man’s irksome presence, Jerrick couldn’t help his grudging admiration at Thane’s vast knowledge of the Artur’ak period. It almost rivaled Dash’s.
He still longed to break Thane’s kneecaps though. Especially since the asshole had an annoying habit of touching Avi. After the millionth offense, Jerrick took matters into his own hands by insinuating himself between Thane and Avi. Judging from the man’s smirk, he knew he was one grope away from a beat down.
Francesca continued to drone on, clueless of the potential bloodshed endangering her precious Artur’ak runners. “The rooms at the far end are reserved for privacy, so sadly our tour will go no further on this floor. But viewing pleasure is still plentiful and at the ready.” She pressed a button recessed in the wall, and the paneled sections retracted toward the ceiling, revealing a glass-enclosed room. A man in leather breeches sat in a high-backed armchair, the only furniture in the room. His head was tilted against the cushioned neck rest, his strained features awash in ecstasy—probably courtesy of the brunette with the skillful mouth bobbing on his cock.
Jerrick watched the saliva-slickened path of the woman’s tongue, his own cock thickening at the remembrance of Avily’s teasing maneuver last night. Even with the leather of his pants between them, it’d still been one of the most erotic experiences of his life, feeling her tongue lick his rigid length. Which spoke volumes concerning her effect on him. He was no inexperienced youth with only a handful of blow jobs under his belt. But one look at her pink tongue caressing along his zipper and he’d nearly come in his damn pants.
God knows what a cleaning disaster that would have been.
A quickened intake of breath drew his focus to Avi. She too was staring at the amorous couple, her cheeks flushed and her cleavage speckled with sweat. There was no denying her excitement and arousal.
For a Maddoc fae—a species whose very magic was ruled and empowered by sex—her lustful reaction was an enticing incantation from the gods themselves. For Jerrick, she was a maddening torment. He shook with the desire to push her against the glass and bury himself balls-deep inside her, virginity and the curse of the goddesses be damned.
Claim her. The primal demand raged through his blood. Muting it proved to be the fiercest battle he’d waged.
Avi swallowed hard, the fingers of one hand curling tightly to her abdomen. “C-can they see us?”
“No.” Francesca’s mouth tipped upward at one corner. “But that is the thrill for them. Knowing someone could be out here, enjoying the entertainment they’re providing.” She eyed the pair behind the glass dispassionately. “Sex is always about power and stripping it away, is it not? This room delivers the perfect means for fostering that ideal. Its walls give the illusion of security. A buffer from an outside world that would expose them as the sexual beasts they are.”
“Aren’t we all merely illusions of our own making?” Thane drawled, his humor-filled gaze drifting to Jerrick.
The man was in some serious want of an ass kicking. And Jerrick would gladly deliver it if Thane so much as appeared on the verge of blowing their cover. He cracked his knuckles, the sound apparently getting through to Thane because he gave a low chuckle reserved only for Jerrick’s ears.
Francesca pressed the button again, sealing off the view. “We’ll leave him to his grand finale. There are many more sights I’m sure you’re interested in exploring.”
He was far more interested in digging into Casper Winston’s connection with the club and the coldly distant Mistress Dominitri. But short of demanding the information from her, Jerrick saw no immediate solution to his dilemma.
Hoping his biding of time would pay off, he held firm to his patience while Francesca continued to play hostess for the next hour and showed them the remaining floors.
The final room she guided them into bore a striking resemblance to the Lust Ballroom, but on a smaller scale. And minus the wild orgies. In fact, the majority of occupants in this room were engaged in no more scandalous activity than conversation. There was a threesome participating in a heated and rather complicated tangle of a kiss, but for the most part everyone seemed to be ignoring them. The one commonality he noted was each person in the room wore a mask. For mystery, or anonymity?
Jerrick scrutinized the extravagant peacockian-blue plumage adorning the female’s face across from him, and realized he’d been handed the key to broaching the subject of Casper. He began to open his mouth but at the last moment recalled the role he’d been forced to take on. Sonofabitch. Clearly he wasn’t cut out for this submissive shit. Always having to mind his tongue would get old fast.