She nodded and dug for a tip. “No,” he said. “Go have fun. Mr. Wilder foots the bill. But we’re required to cut you off when you get sloppy.”
“So don’t get sloppy,” boomed the other bartender, tipping his leather hat to her.
“I’ll try not to.” She smiled and tossed the shot back, then winced as it burned down her throat. The Russian half of her enjoyed vodka, whether that Russian half was legitimate or not. While she waited for the liquor to calm her nerves, she looked around the Wilders’ place. The main room had a soaring ceiling and swanky leather furniture, ornate molding, and gold-framed art on the wall. Real estate here must be crazy. Just how big was this Ironclad security company Liam owned?
Petra shrank back as Liam walked by in a button down shirt and jeans, but his attention was on his wife and her group of friends. That crisis averted, she scanned the room, but she didn’t recognize anyone else. Either Rubio wasn’t in attendance, or he was downstairs. She asked for one more shot, for courage, downed it in one gulp, and skirted the outside of the crowds until she reached the wide marble staircase that led below.
What would she find down there? How hard did this sexy crowd party? She lifted her chin, prepared to see just about anything as she moved into view of the lower floor. She heard the sounds of impact first, thuds and smacks and screams, but they were happy screams. As she neared the landing, the play room opened before her in a series of erotic tableaux.
Wow. Just wow.
The Wilders’ entire basement was set up in her image of the classic sex dungeon. There were intricate racks and solid wooden benches, crosses and cages, chains and pulleys and other equipment she’d read about in her investigation into the BDSM “lifestyle.” Almost all of it was in use. From the stairs she could see the whole room, but she didn’t dare stand there and gawk. She continued down and moved off to the side.
The music was softer down here, so she could hear the pervasive sounds of lust and arousal. The lighting was minimal, which suited her purposes—lots of shadows to hide in. The walls, floors, and ceiling were all black, lit by candelabras that flickered even though the candles were fake. From her vantage point, she could see that the back and side walls were loaded with whips, handcuffs, sex toys, and some stuff she didn’t recognize. Aside from the decor and the extensive selection of BDSM toys, the whole room was alive with people, real people doing really intimate and perverted stuff, freely, in public.
Petra watched all of this with a sense of wonder. She wasn’t a prude by any means, but...wow. These people were going at it full throttle, with no self-consciousness, at least none that she could see. There were crawling women on leashes, slave men decked out in complex body harnesses, Dom-types with leather floggers and cuffs clipped to their belts. In one corner, a burly man decorated a curvy girl with knotted rope, while his female assistant stroked and teased her between the legs.
Nearby, a man walloped a bent-over, voluptuous woman with a thick strap. The woman cried out at each blow, but she was clearly enjoying it. The woman’s ass was scarlet red beneath her sheer pink panties, and her entire body seemed to tremble in fear at the same time she accepted each stroke. As for her partner, his face lit up in a smile at each of her cries and groans. It was so freaky and weird and...hot. The sound of the strap and the impact turned Petra on, even though she didn’t want anything like that to happen to her. It was impossible not to react to the intensity of interplay between the couple.
Petra closed her eyes.
No.
No, she didn’t want to be that girl. Did she?
No. She was only getting turned on because it had been so long since she’d had sex. It had been too long since anything raunchy or intense happened in her bedroom, unless she counted her sex dreams about Rubio, and they weren’t real.
Rubio.
Where was he? She searched the room as well as she could, but other scenes caught her attention. A twenty-something girl with long stripey socks clutched a teddy bear while an older couple played with her breasts. A super hot, barely-legal guy knelt in front of a latex clad woman, alternately licking and polishing her boots, while a girl in skin-tight leather writhed and screamed as her Dom paddled her.
If she was that girl, would she scream like that? She wondered what it felt like, to be spanked while screaming her lungs out, powerless to get away. She’d fantasized about it, but these men and women were really living it.
“Hey, Ashleigh!” Arms encircled her, pulling her into a full body embrace. “I thought you went upstairs with Liam.”
From his touch alone, she knew it was Rubio. His hands roved over her flat stomach. “
Meu Deus do céu
. What happened to your baby?”
Petra turned and stepped away from him. He took in her face and her hair at the same time she took in his astounding nakedness. He was hard all over, beautifully muscled, his pronounced iliac furrows framing a truly magnificent cock. She dropped her gaze and stared at the ground.
Don’t recognize me. Please don’t recognize me.
He put a finger under her chin and tipped her head up. A muscle twitched in his jaw as he scrutinized her face. His voice came low and roughened with surprise. “You!”
She shook her head, like she might still play this off. He backed away and looked at all of her—her dress, her wig, the black pumps she wore instead of her toe shoes.
“You,” he exclaimed again, like he couldn’t get his brain wrapped around it. Her brain wasn’t working that well either. She was stone-cold busted and Rubio was so, so naked. When she turned to flee, he caught her arm.
“Wait. What are you doing here?” He pushed back her hair when she tried to hide her face. “Why are you wearing a wig?”
So you won’t recognize me, damn it.
“I’m here for the same reason you are,” she lied. “To have a good time, to relax, to enjoy myself.”
“What in holy fuck?” He seemed outraged, which made no sense since he was here and, from the looks of things, having quite a pleasurable time. “I thought you were Ashleigh,” he spluttered. “You looked just like her from behind.”
“You run around groping Ashleigh whenever you feel like it?” Petra snapped. “I thought she was married to your friend.”
“What are you doing here?” he repeated, ignoring her question. Again, helplessly, her gaze dipped to his half-engorged and wholly-impressive cock. He reached down and covered himself with an affronted expression. “Stop leering at me like I’m a piece of meat.”
“I’m not leering. You’re the one running around naked.” He wasn’t the only one, sure, but he was the only one standing two feet from her. And the only one with a body that made her want to cry in its virile perfection. She’d seen him bare-chested, in clinging sweats, and in body-hugging tights that left nothing to the imagination. Even then, she’d never imagined this.
“Come here.” He took her elbow and steered her deeper into the dark corner. He backed her against the wall and leaned down, and for a moment she thought he was going to kiss her. Instead he waggled a finger in her face.
“If you came to spy on me, to tell my secrets to everyone, too bad. Everyone knows I come here. I’m not ashamed that I’m kinky.”
What? He thought she was here to out him or something? She didn’t want him to believe that so she spit out another blatant lie. “I’m here because I’m kinky too.” She stuck out her chin, willing her voice not to shake as she lied her head off. “I’ve been kinky my whole life, as long as I can remember.”
“Who are you here with? Who invited you?”
She bit her lip. How long was she going to brazen this out? “No one invited me. I heard about this party and I came to check it out.” She shot a longing look over his shoulder, to the stairs and the exit.
“Who you looking for here?” he persisted. “A man? A woman? A top or a bottom?”
His intent questions alarmed her almost as much as her lies. “It’s none of your fucking business who or what I’m looking for.”
He stared at her a moment, then he snorted. “You have sub all over you like fucking body oil. Is leaking out of your pores.”
“It is not.”
“I knew you were a sub from the second I met you. I just wasn’t sure
you
knew it.”
She inched away from him, back toward the activity and noise of the play room floor. “It doesn’t matter. Just because you’re a Dom—”
“I’m a top,” he said sharply. “I don’t do all that role play stuff. I top women and make them feel good. I hurt them, give them sex. They like it. End of story for me.” His gaze flashed with a way-too-alluring intensity as his lips quirked up in invitation.
“That’s great,” she managed to say. “Good for you.”
She walked away from him, because she needed distance and because she was thinking really stupid and ill-advised thoughts.
“Hey.” He grabbed her and pulled her back again. She couldn’t help it—her gaze returned to his cock. It was the barest glance, but he noticed.
“How long since you had sex, Petra? Too long, huh? You like what you see?” He slipped a hand around her waist, brought her right against his chest. She hated that it felt so good, so natural to be in his arms.
We’re partners, that’s why. Don’t allow this, stupid girl.
“I’ll top you if you like,” he said in a soft, compelling voice. “Tie you up and hurt you and make you feel so good.” His cock rose with insistent presence against her front. “Then we could do whatever you like. Fucking, oral, even anal if you’re into it. I’m into it,” he added in a truly filthy whisper.
She could barely draw breath. “No, I don’t want you t-to top me. I was just—just going home. I’m tired.”
“But you keep staring at my cock,” he wheedled. “Three, four times now you’re staring at it like you want it.”
Was he teasing? She couldn’t read his expression in the dim light. She shrank back against the wall. “I’m staring because—because—”
Because you’re completely, ridiculously beautiful and because I’m insane.
And because I want to take you up on every one of those offers right now.
Rubio could feel her shaking. He felt like shaking himself. Petra Hewitt, kinky? But some part of him must have known from the beginning. That was why he felt the instant attraction to her, the connection.
“I like your dress,” he whispered against her neck.
She pulled away from him. “We can’t do this. Definitely not. It would be totally...completely... inappropriate.”
“Why?”
“Because we’re ballet partners.”
“Yes, we’re ballet partners. This makes it even better. You’ve thought of it. I know you’ve thought of it.” He pressed his rigid cock against her, so she could feel what she did to him. “I’ve thought of it too. And now I learn you’re kinky... What do you enjoy?” he asked, to plan his scene with her. “What are your fetishes?”
“Fetishes?”
“Spanking, nipple clamps, latex, bondage, what?”
Her eyes darted around the room. “I like... I like a lot of stuff. Yes, spanking. Being tied up and...and submission. Submitting to...somebody.”
“You can submit to me, Petra.” She trembled as he traced along the curve of her shoulder. “Will be fun, I promise. I’m the best one here to play with.”
She shook her head, fake black hair brushing over her cheeks. How strange she looked, now that she was dark all over. Dark dress, dark lips, dark hair. She was the dark twin of light, sweet Petra. He cupped her cheek and held her close.
“Don’t kiss me,” she said.
“Okay. Don’t have to kiss to do a scene,” he whispered, staring at her lips.
She studied him with so many messages in her eyes. Embarrassment, guilt, panic, denial, but beneath it all, curiosity. Bent over a spanking bench, he thought, with her arms and legs restrained. He wouldn’t make it too scary, their first time together. After all, he wanted her to come back for more.
“I would like to spank you,” he said, taking the bold and direct approach. “I want to put you in bondage and punish you for being a bad girl. That would be fun, huh?”
Her eyes widened. “I haven’t been a bad girl.”
“Oh, please,” he said. “You’re a naughty, cock-staring girl. Everyone here knows it.”
She sucked in a deep breath, stealing another glance at his hardening tool. “I don’t want there to be any sex.”
“Why not? I’m clean. We’ll be safe.”
She squared her shoulders and tugged at the hem of her dress. “I’ll let you sp-spank me if you want. Do a scene with me out there.” She gestured to the equipment. “But no sex. I want you to put some pants on. Your hard-on is scaring me.” She shaded her eyes, like she hadn’t just been leering at his erection.
“No sex at all?” he asked. “You’re sure? You don’t think I’m sexy?”
“It’s the whole...the whole partner thing.”
“Okay,” he said. “I’ll put my pants on, but only if you take your clothes off.”
“What?”
He shrugged. “That’s my offer. I’ll dress if you undress.”
“Oh, we’re bargaining?”
He made a show of looking around. “No one cares if you’re naked. I don’t care. I already know your body anyway, all of it. I feel it with my hands every day.”
“The thing is, I’ve never done...I’ve never done anything public like this before.”
“Only your dress off,” he said. “My final offer. But it’s better if we’re both naked.”
“No it’s not, because we’re not going to have sex.” She pointed a finger at him. “I’m serious.”
“You don’t trust me?”
She almost said no, he could see it, but he’d never given her any reason not to trust him. Not in class, not in rehearsals, not onstage. He’d never once been careless or endangered her, or come close to dropping her, or done anything that might injure her. “I trust you,” she finally admitted in a grudging tone. “You’re just really, really... God, Rubio. You might poke out my eyes with that thing waving loose.”
“Come on,” he said, taking her hand and leading her across the room. He found his jeans by the back wall and pulled them on, stuffing his erection into the rough denim. It would go down in a minute. Or not.