“You must try my house punch. The recipe is an old one handed down from my mother’s side. But I warn you, the kick might be more than you’re used to.”
Avi snorted. “Clearly you’ve never seen me put away a six-pack of Larry the Fairy.”
Francesca’s lips twitched. “I confess to being a fan of Larry’s myself. But I still think you’ll be pleasantly surprised by our punch.”
“Well, I’m the adventurous sort, so count me in.” Avily took a delicate sip from the flute the server handed her and murmured her pleasure. “It’s divine.” She began to hand the glass to him for a taste, but Francesca halted her with two fingers pressed to Avi’s hand.
“Forgive my house rules, but that is not how the subs under Rapture’s roof are permitted to take their drink.”
Avi frowned. “I don’t follow.”
A chuckle came from the ginger-haired Dom to the left of them. “If you will permit a demonstration, Mistress Dominitri?”
Francesca waved graciously, and the man caught his female submissive’s eye with a heated look. She quickly unbuttoned his shirt, and he stretched backward on the chase while she dribbled the fruity aperitif along his torso, her nimble tongue darting to catch the alcohol before it dripped from his skin.
Avi blinked. “You must spend a fortune on your upholstery cleaning bills.”
A laugh skipped from Francesca. “Small price to pay for such a delightful way to partake in drink, wouldn’t you say?” She motioned to the flute clutched between Avi’s fingers. “The choice is yours where you wish him to lap it from.”
Sweet gods. This could get interesting. And likely result in a killer case of blue balls for him.
Avi’s hold on the flute tightened until the fragile glass threatened to splinter beneath her grip. Apparently realizing she was seconds away from demolishing Mistress Dominitri’s stemware, she cautiously settled it on the ground near her foot. “Think I’ll make him wait for a taste.”
He didn’t know whether to sigh in relief or sob in a self-pity fest.
Her eyes sparkling with humor and consideration, Francesca studied Avi. “You’re not at all like any master I’ve known.”
Oh shit. Heart thudding, he silently willed Avi to stay strong and focused. The last thing they needed was her buckling to the squeeze Francesca was placing on their alias.
“I’ve never been a follower of the crowd. I believe in doing things my own way.”
Good girl. He was so damn proud of her in that moment he could have kissed her feet. Of course, not like that’d look weird considering where they were.
“Hmm, that is a wise philosophy to uphold.” Francesca rubbed a finger over her chin. “My Casper was similar in his outlook.”
Adrenaline kicking into gear, he subtly nudged Avi’s leg. Fortunately her head was already in the game. Tucking a loose tendril behind her ear, she leaned closer to Francesca, adopting a conspiratorial air. “It was probably unusual for a man of his station to be a sub, particularly to a woman.”
“Not at all. I’ve often found that the men holding a great deal of power and responsibility are those who most long to retire it at the end of the day, particularly in the bedroom.” Francesca cocked her head to the side. “No, what I was referring to was his overall philosophy on life. It colored all he touched. All he believed in. Not everyone proscribed to his way of thinking. They didn’t understand much less appreciate the scope of his brilliance.” The taint of sadness once again clouded Francesca’s gaze, and she fell into a brooding silence.
“I’m sorry. I know his absence must pain you horribly,” Avi said softly.
“It’s as if the one thread keeping my soul intact has been ripped away from me.” Francesca sucked in a deep breath, her melancholy dissipating as she peered at Avi. “I don’t know why I’m telling you this. You must think me terribly depressing.”
Avi’s eyes were moist. “No, I think you’re sad and lonely, and that makes me ache for you.”
Francesca smiled and petted Avi’s hand as if she were the one who required consoling. “You are a sensitive soul. Casper would have adored you. But come, we are not here to speak of sadness. It would be a blasphemy within a house reserved for only pleasure.” She picked up Avi’s unfinished punch and placed the flute in her hand. “Drink up, because the party has already started without us.” Her laugh husky, Francesca gestured to the room at large.
Jerrick glanced to the nearest couple. The ginger-haired Dom reclined in his seat, his sub bouncing away on his cock, her mouth open in a perpetual O of ecstasy. They weren’t the only ones lost in the throes of rapture. The next lounge over, another Dom had his sub bent over a cushion, his cock plowing into her from behind. In fact, a quick scan showed the entire room to be immersed in some type of frisky sexual activity or another. Even the male sub was greedily gobbling his master’s stout cock.
The wet slap of flesh on flesh burned into Jerrick’s brain. Fired his blood. His magic was reacting to the excess, itching to burst free and absorb the sexual energy charging the air. He groaned and mopped his face.
This place was going to fucking kill him. But no more so than the heady enticement of the woman next to him. He was excruciatingly aware of every inch of Avily. The oxygen she breathed. The luscious arousal she exuded. She was the embodiment of sex, love and lust. Everything he craved to the marrow of his bones.
His hand slid to her thigh, brushing her silky skin. The catch of her breath was an erotic symphony to his ears.
“Your sub is attempting to top you from the bottom.” Francesca’s voice held equal amounts of amusement and reprimand.
“I…” Avi’s tongue peeked out and swept her lips as his fingers grew bolder and stroked over the lace of her panties. Her crotch was soaked.
The knowledge speared a fierce hunger low in his belly. He stared into her eyes, silently demanding her to command him. If she said the word, he’d bury his mouth between her legs and gorge on her until she lost count of how many times she came.
Command me.
Avi took a swift breath, the rise of her cleavage tormenting him. “I think you need to taste this lovely punch.”
“Anything you desire, my mistress.” He knew he likely resembled a predatory lion as he situated himself in front of Avi, but damn if he possessed the fortitude to temper the hunger controlling him. He paid no mind to Francesca when she abandoned her perch and moved instead to an adjacent chair. His solitary focus was Avi.
She took a sip from her flute, and his gaze dipped to the droplets of punch glistening on her lips. Moving in, he captured her mouth with his, greedily suckling and licking. Long after the last trace of drink was gone, he continued consuming the sweetness of her, his thirst for her unquenchable. Her tongue played hide and seek from his, but he would have none of that. He pursued, coaxed and cajoled, wore at her defenses until she surrendered with a wispy moan that wrapped like a velvet fist around his cock.
Sliding his mouth to her ear, he nipped the softness of her lobe. “Command me to go down on you.”
A tremor coursed through her, but her hesitation weighed at him. Desperation made him a caged beast. “I need to taste you.” Sink inside and make you mine. His own thoughts tormented him. “They don’t need to see. I’ll take you somewhere private. Somewhere I can lay you out and spend hours worshipping you with my mouth.”
Her shaky breath feathered his cheek. “But that won’t suit our purposes, will it?”
Damn it, it would his.
He followed her gaze to the intent stares they were collecting from their randy neighbors. Apparently screwing their brains out didn’t deter the club members from expecting a show in return for the one they provided.