Fair Game (30 page)

In the meantime, Kyle hadn’t said a word, as if waiting for her to come to her own conclusion.

“Okay,” she said. “You’re right.” She’d give him that.

They reached the top of the steps. This time she let him get the door for her. Inside was a small vestibule, the door opposite closing behind the couple they had followed in. To the right was a ticket window, as if they were doing nothing more than buying admission to a movie.

The man behind the Plexiglas, though, was more like what she’d expected; pitch dark hair, a stud in his left nostril, black nail polish, and a body thin to the point of boniness.

“You want Caligula, Tiberius, or Caesar?”

“Caesar.” Kyle handed him some bills.

“Just go up the stairs until you get to the green door that matches the color of your hand stamp.” Then he waggled his fingers.

They both stuck out their hands for a fluorescent green hand stamp that would get them into “Caesar.”

“Here’re the rules, dude.”

“I read the rules on the website,” Kyle told him.

“Yeah, well you’re gonna hear the rules anyway. Watch all you want, but no touching unless invited. No drinking, no fighting. No cameras, no recording devices, no cell phones, no solicitation, and no giggling.”

“No giggling?” Josie mouthed when Kyle glanced at her.

“You don’t follow the rules,” the kid went on, “have no fear, you will be tossed out on your ass. There’re condoms all over the place. Use ’em.” Then he raised a thin arm and waved them on. “Go forth and fornicate, my friends.”

As Trinity would say,
ohmigod
.

 

 

INSIDE was a coat check room, but Josie hadn’t brought a coat. Kyle led her up a narrow set of stairs. “They really have a website?” she asked.

“Yes, they really do. And it explains everything.”

“What’s Caesar?”

He raised her hand to kiss her knuckles. “Couples and single women only.”

“Why no single men?”

“Because the place would be overrun with horny guys.”

Duh. “What about Tiberius?”

“Mixed. Heterosexual, gay, lesbian, and transgender.”

Okay, she would not make a remark about transgender. “What about Caligula?”

“Hardcore BDSM.”

“Eww,” she said on an out breath.

“We can watch, if you’d like.”

She snorted. “No way.”

They reached a landing with three doors: men’s room, ladies’ room, and a bright fuchsia door. Music pounded from behind the wood. “Tiberius,” Kyle said, and turned up the next flight.

At the next landing, men’s and ladies’ again, and this time a fluorescent green door. Kyle opened it and held their clasped hands for the bouncer to identify their stamps.

The music was softer here than on the floor below, but was still rock and roll, though Josie couldn’t identify the band. They entered into a great room. A disco ball twirled in the center of the ceiling, reflecting prisms of light across the walls and the few dancers. The parquet floor was ringed with tables and bar stools, with couples watching. A bar ran along the back wall.

“I thought there was no alcohol.”

“It’s probably just sodas, water, and nonalcoholic froufrou stuff.” He leaned in, his minty breath washing over her. “Fucking is very thirsty work.”

“You’re bad.”

“And about to get a lot worse,” he murmured.

That she didn’t doubt. “Yeah, well, you’ll have to prove it,” she said dryly, “because there isn’t a whole lot going on right now.” It was more tame than a country-and-western hot spot on line-dance night.

“We’re early yet.” Kyle touched her arm. “The place will be rocking in a bit.”

“I was expecting . . . more,” she mused, glancing around.

His mouth quirked. “What, you want sex on the dance floor?”

She shrugged. “At least a little nudity.”

“Slut,” he whispered into her ear.

“Well, if you’re coming to a place like this, you want to see some hot action. Otherwise, what’s the point?”

He tugged her down a wide hallway with institutional light gray walls and beige linoleum squares, almost as if it were designed for easy cleanup.

“Hot action coming up,” he murmured in her ear.

Doors opened on either side, and she glanced in the first room. Video screens covered every wall, the sound of movie moans and groans overlaying the music from the dance floor. Two couples and a single woman were stretched out on beanbags watching a standard porn movie. Her knees bent and legs spread, the woman diddled herself beneath her dress.

“I didn’t think women were into the whole visual thing?” Josie muttered against Kyle’s shoulder. She wasn’t so much, at least not in videos.

“That one obviously is.”

The couples swapped oral, man on woman and woman on man. Now that was better than video and oddly exciting, not so much because the live performers were attractive—they were pretty run of the mill—but because she’d never watched another woman take a cock. The slow glide of her mouth down her partner’s shaft shot a little bubble of heat straight to Josie’s pussy.

“Good technique,” Kyle said, pulling Josie closer and wrapping his arm around her waist.

She scented him like an animal scents her mate. He was hot, sexy, aroused where his body snugged against hers. Even as she watched, the couples separated, came together again, this time having switched partners. Good God. What if Kyle asked the woman to do him, too?

“I can suck better than that,” she said, disdain dripping from her voice.

He nuzzled her hair. “Most likely.”

She jabbed him lightly with her elbow. “Most
definitely
.”

“Jealous?”

“Give me a break.” Yes, terribly. If Kyle approached the woman, Josie might have to rip her hair out in a total bitch fight.

“Let’s move on.” He towed her away. “There’s so much more to see.”

In the few minutes they’d been in the room, the hallway had begun to fill up a tad, gawkers peering in rooms just as she and Kyle were doing.

Kyle led her through another door, on the right, shuffling up against the wall and pulling her to him. Back to front, he wrapped his arms around her waist and watched over her shoulder.

A black light made everything glow, the shag carpet a fluorescent blue and the walls a rainbow of color. For the center show, a woman splayed herself on a device that reminded Josie of a small mechanical bull. On a pedestal, the machine was low enough to the floor to allow the woman to quite literally ride it. Her skin was painted with flowers and swirls of color, and her body glowed as she bounced. Holding a handle in front, she rose and fell, revealing a large, black, ribbed dildo slipping in and out of her pussy. Throwing her head back, she moaned loudly and pinched her nipples. The small crowd gathered in the room murmured their excitement.

Kyle slid a hand down and palmed Josie’s pussy through her skirt, then he delved beneath the material and stroked her clit. In his description of what to wear, he hadn’t mentioned panties. So she hadn’t worn any. It was so good, thank God she was leaning against him or she might have fallen. She wanted to close her eyes, arch into his hand, come hard, for him, only him. Everything came back to Kyle, and that alone was frightening. She was losing the game to him.

“Stop that.” She swatted at him, pulling his hand away.

“Don’t tell me,” he whispered in her ear, “that watching her ride a massive cock doesn’t make you hot.”

It was his touch that made her wild. She tipped her head back against his shoulder. “It’s . . . interesting.”

“Want me to buy you one?”

“You buy me one and I won’t need you anymore.” She batted her eyelashes.

“You will need me badly before this night is over.” He pinched her nipple hard enough to make her pussy wet. Wetter. He was right; she was turned on. The woman, the mechanical dildo, the people, and most especially Kyle’s hard cock riding along her spine.

“Don’t get your hopes up,” she quipped. He was the one who would be dying for her. She’d make sure of it. “What else is there to see?”

He nipped her earlobe. “Let’s find out.”

Jostling them through the doorway, he pulled her along behind. She didn’t feel they’d been here that long—and she’d specifically left behind her watch—yet the place was rocking now, as Kyle put it, more men than women despite the rule about couples and single women only. Nevertheless, a fog of perfumes floated on the air. Against the wall, a man allowed his zipper to be tugged down, his cock yanked out, and a female mouth descend upon him. The woman wore a silver-studded leather collar, and a big beefy guy held the leash in his meaty fist as he watched the two. “Take him deeper,” he demanded, gently tapping the back of her blond head. “Suck him harder.”

“You want that?” Kyle whispered. “To have me push you down on your knees and make you suck a cock for me?”

“Do not think you’re
ever
putting a leash on me.”

He smiled wickedly, all teeth. “My challenge, I choose.”

She wagged her finger at him as he propelled her through the now crowded hall. “I do have my limits, and that’s one of them.”

Before she could even blink, he whirled her around and backed her up against the wall, towering over her. His eyes glittered. Holding her chin in his hand, he forced her gaze to his. “What other limits? Tell me now.”

She couldn’t say any of those things. It was debilitating to admit she felt that way.

“No leashes, because you don’t own me and I’m not your little pet.” She blinked. “But if you want me down on my knees sucking some random guy’s cock, I can do that.” It was absolutely true. She had no qualms about doing that if he wanted her to. If it made him hot, hard, irrevocably turned on, by her, by what she would do for him. She just didn’t want him to want some other woman. Everything had to be about her. “As long as he’s not skanky,” she added so he wouldn’t be able to see her thoughts written in her eyes.

He took her mouth hard and deep, stealing her breath, weakening her legs. For a moment there was only him and his kiss, his male scent, his minty taste.

Then he backed off, first his mouth, then his whole body slipping away.

“I may or may not decide to loan you out tonight.” His eyebrows dipped devilishly. “We’ll see how I feel later.”

Her stomach fluttered. Would he really? How did it make her feel? Anxious. Hot. Terrified. Unbearably wet. “I’d rather suck you for them.”

She could do another, but the thought of taking him while everyone watched made her light-headed. She wanted every woman down to the last one in this seedy, nasty place to know he was hers. To want and not have. To be jealous of
her
. Oh yeah. That she could do. Easily. Gladly.

Exhibitionism was something she’d never tried before, never thought she’d like. Now . . . maybe . . . yeah. For sure.

How badly she wanted to do
something
set her nerves jangling and a hoard of butterflies loose in her stomach. She’d never felt the need to claim a man before witnesses. Make him hers. Own him.

Kyle yanked her away into the wave of people. Where had they all come from? Out of the woodwork it seemed. More men than there should have been. Obviously some were sneaking in without a date. Kyle stuck his head into door after door. There was an orgy in one. All she could make out were heads and asses bobbing, a writhing mass of naked humanity on a pile of mattresses. She hoped they were all following the condom rule. In another, a woman lay on a bed, several men standing over her, jerking off, spraying her with their semen. The next room was a lounge, with sofas, tables, conversation, and only the smallest amount of sex, comparatively speaking; no more than a woman sitting on her lover’s lap, her dress hiked, the rest obvious though not visible.

Finding a room that appealed to him, Kyle dragged her in. A large, round dais carpeted in plush blue sat center stage, spotlighted. People mingled. A couple was just stepping down.

Before anyone could take their place, Kyle forced her up.

“Strip off your shirt,” he demanded.

“What?” She couldn’t be sure she heard correctly.

“I want your breasts naked. I want these people to see how gorgeous you are.” He stared at her a long moment in the hot lights beating down on the dais. “I want them to see what’s mine.”

Her heart pounded, and her body flushed. “No.” But the hot glitter in his eyes made her want to do whatever he asked in front of this greedy, avid audience.

“Strip,” he said again, louder.

The crowd picked up the word. “Strip, strip, strip.” The chant filled the small room, bouncing off the walls, beating inside her chest. “Do it, do it, do it.”

So many people, so many eyes. Yet his gaze was all that mattered, and it was all for her. Kyle made her special. Above and beyond anyone else.

Standing up on the dais, she wasn’t just some consolation prize because Little Miss Fucking Snowflake hadn’t blown him. In his gaze, she saw it, felt it. Kyle Perry wanted Josie Tybrook. He had
chosen
her.

She didn’t do it gracefully. She wasn’t teasing or sexy. She wanted to expose herself because he was proud enough to want to display her. She wasn’t afraid of what anyone saw beneath the mask of her clothing, not with Kyle’s hot, hungry gaze literally eating her up. The noise, the laughter, the people all faded away as she yanked her Lycra top over her head and tossed it to him.

Her nipples pebbled at the appreciative murmurs. Her breasts were small, her figure almost boyish, with barely there curves, yet Kyle’s eyes blazed hot for her.

He stepped up beside her, then circled his fingers indicating she should turn. The lights were bright, the crowd in the room indistinguishable beneath them. They were mere shadows, faceless. There was only Kyle and the soft shush of voices around him. Hauling her up against him, he plunged his hands beneath her skirt and squeezed her ass, giving all a brief glimpse.