Nobody's Hero (39 page)

Adam glanced at Karla, who kept her head
bowed. Through the veil, he didn’t see her lips curve into a smile,
or any other acknowledgement of Marc’s words, but thought he
detected a slight tremor from the veil. Rather than appearing to be
in a playful mood, she acted like a lamb headed to slaughter.

What the fuck was going on?

Adam planned to find out, but without an
audience. Accepting Marc’s “tribute,” he took the leash, thanked
him tersely, and led Karla to the vacant loveseat near the stage.
His balls tightened looking at her sexy body barely covered by the
veil and scarves. He’d admitted to her the other night that the
harem-girl fantasy was among his favorites. He’d like to see her
shed the veil and scarves to reveal her body to him slowly, but
wasn’t sure how he felt about her revealing herself to everyone at
the club tonight.

Now why was that a problem? If she wanted to
be his sub, she needed to become comfortable with her naked body,
because he could order her to strip anytime he wished. He’d never
had a problem with that before, although he’d never been
emotionally attached to any of the subs he’d ordered to do so in
the past. But hadn’t he been her Dom, more or less, since they’d
ended the Master/slave arrangement last month?

God knew he wanted her all to himself. But
first he wanted to know what was going through her head. He sat on
the loveseat. If she wanted a sheikh, he supposed he’d have to play
the part.

“Kneel.” He pointed to a place near his feet.
Without hesitation, she complied, still keeping her head bowed.
“What is it you need tonight, Karla?”

“Only to please you, Master.”

How did she mean Master? They weren’t back to
Master/slave again, were they? God, he hoped not.

“Just how do you plan to do that?”

“In whatever ways you ask, Master.”

“Remove the veil.” He’d quickly grown tired
of having her face hidden from him. Even if the material was flimsy
and see-through, he needed to see her eyes, her mouth, her
lips.

“Permission to move, Your Excellency.”

Move? Of course she’d need to move in order
to remove the veil. Why was she asking for unnecessary
permission?

He sighed. “Granted.”

She raised her hands, striking a dramatic
pose, and the veil fell in front of her, its material continuing to
shield her from his view. Without warning, passionate Middle
Eastern music blared from the nearby speakers, distracting him
momentarily. He looked over at the sound system to find his
partner, the quasi-sultan/sheikh, grinning in his direction and
executing a salaam as he bowed in Adam’s direction. Then Marc
returned to where he’d left Angelina kneeling beside a small
stage-side table. He sat with his slave girl between his knees and
gave her an order. She looked up at him warily, then around at the
others nearby, balking until Marc said something that had her face
turning red at the same time as her hands reached out to undo his
leathers. Adam grinned.

Karla’s long, flowing veil flitted across
Adam’s face, drawing his attention back to her. She dipped and
undulated to the music, alternately hiding her face and revealing
it with the red veil. She looked so good in red. Why she ever
thought black was her color was beyond him.

He just wished her expression wasn’t so
serious. Maybe she just wanted to concentrate on the moves—and him;
she didn’t take her eyes off him. The intensity of her smoldering,
come-hither look made him feel as if she’d sucked his breath from
his lungs.

What was going on in her head tonight?

She began rippling her hips, alternating
between fast movements and slow ones in such a sensuous way,
causing his heart rate to speed up and slow down in direct
response. Her breasts spilled over the tops of the red bra cups
studded with black sequins and beads, making him wish his lips were
brushing over the creamy skin there he knew to be as soft as satin.
Her torso and hips rippled like waves on the ocean, commanding his
attention as the beads and bangles hanging from her bra and the
waistband of her skirt mesmerized him. He realized this was one
very expensive outfit, no Halloween costume.

Where had she learned to dance like that—and
why hadn’t he known about this talent sooner? Karla lifted the veil
over her head and twirled on bare feet, her hands and arms making
graceful motions that caused the veil to flutter and float around
her body. When she turned away from him, he watched her hips shake
to the music, her hips enticing him to reach out to her and sending
the bangles into frenzied motion. She took the ends of the veil and
leaned back until her gorgeous cleavage came into view, then
whipped the veil over both their heads and around his neck and
shoulders, pulling him closer to her tits. Just before his lips
would have pressed against her jiggling mounds, she released one
end of the veil and stood upright, evading his head with a sideways
lunge. She stood upright and pulled the veil away from him,
wrapping it around herself again. His dick rose to a full salute
and he adjusted himself against the loveseat to keep from
strangling his little head. He nearly came in his leathers.

“Very nice, kitten,” he managed to choke out.
“Where did you learn to dance like that?” He waited, not sure he
really wanted to know.

She giggled, damn her. He throbbed even
more.

“Columbia, Sir. A phys-ed activity elective.
Cassie and I took the class together and we both use it for
workouts now.” At her body’s strenuous exertions, her words came
out in sexy, breathy gasps that only made him harder.

“If I’d known college was this much fun…”

She smiled. He’d missed seeing that smile.
She tossed her head side to side and back and forth as she danced,
sending her long, gleaming curls whipping around her face and
shoulders. The desire to grab her by the hair and pull her upstairs
to his bed nearly overwhelmed him.
Control yourself, old
man
.

Her hips undulated to the beat of the music,
as she lifted a couple of the scarves hanging from her waist and he
could have sworn he’d caught a glimpse of a shaved pussy. When had
she shaved—or was his brain playing fucking tricks on him? She
lifted the scarves again and flounced them in his face, obstructing
his view without giving him the answer.

The music pulsed in time to the movement of
her hips as her undulations picked up speed. Sweat broke out on his
upper lip. He wanted to order her to straddle him, now, hoping she
wore nothing under the scarf skirt and was as turned-on as he was,
but didn’t want to end her erotic dance for anything. Not just
yet.

Best decision he’d made in a long fucking
time, because Karla turned toward him again and came down onto her
knees just inches from him, her legs spread open. He looked down to
see if he could see her mound and caught what looked like a tiny
glimpse of pale skin.
Jesus. Had she?

Again, she threw the veil around his
shoulders and drew him close to her tits. His head dipped toward
them, but she kept moving his desired targets as she leaned further
back until he would have fallen off the loveseat and onto her if he
hadn’t pulled himself back. He reached out to part her skirt.

Fuck
.
Fuck
.
Fuck
.

There it was--her Venus mound shaved bare. He
closed his eyes a moment to regain control. When he opened them
once more, she had leaned back until her head touched the floor.
Christ
. He couldn’t take much more. Then she gave him much,
much more. Her chest and hips rippled in alternating currents,
giving him an even more delightful view of her pussy. She raised
and lowered her hips, simulating sexual intercourse.

“Lie still.” His words sounded strangled in
his own ears. She complied, looking up at him, breathing hard and
waiting for further commands. “Straddle me.” She glanced at the
bulge in his leathers and quirked an eyebrow. “Not yet. Just
straddle me.”

She lifted her head and torso from the floor
in one graceful, fluid motion. He reached out to take her arms and
lifted her the rest of the way onto his lap. She pressed what he
now knew was her bare pussy against the front of his soft leathers
and his dick nearly ripped a new opening in his pants. She
continued to move her hips and torso to the music, torturing him
even more.

Adam reached out and brushed his thumb pad
over her lower lip. So full and sensuous. He grabbed her hair in
his fists and pulled her closer until their lips met. She didn’t
open for him until he pulled her head back by her hair and drove
his tongue deep inside her mouth. His heart pounded against his
chest, in alternating rhythm with the throbbing dick pressed
against her clit and pussy.

“Master, how can this lowly slave girl please
you?”

The seriousness of her expression told him
there was more going on here than role-playing, but he didn’t want
to waste time or energy processing that information. At the moment,
she wanted to know how to please him. He could respond to that
much, at least.

“Remove the bra.”

She released her hold on the veil, leaving it
draped over his shoulders, and reached both hands around to her
back to unhook the bra. Watching the strands of beads dangling
between her breasts made him wish he had his nipple clamps to
replace them, but he wasn’t going in search of his toy bag at the
moment.

When the bra loosened, he reached out to pull
it off, realizing he still held her hair in his fists. He released
her hair and took the straps in each hand, easing them down her
arms, revealing to his hungry gaze the dusky-pink areolas he could
never get enough of. They looked swollen, inviting, and he lowered
his head, cupping one breast in his hand as he flicked his tongue
over the peak, feeling the nipple swell to twice its size against
his tongue. His dick bobbed against her pussy and she squirmed in
his lap. Taking the bud between his teeth, he bit down gently and
pulled.

“Ow!” Her gasp of pain surprised him, because
he knew how much she could take by now and wasn’t anywhere near her
limit. He released her tit and searched her face for answers.

“I’m sorry, Master. They’re just more
sensitive than usual tonight.”

She’d probably have screamed if he’d put her
in the nipple clamps tonight. He chuckled. The night was still
young. He did so enjoy hearing her screams of passion that followed
those of pain. No doubt her screams would be of both varieties
before this night was over.

He bent again and took her other nipple
between his teeth, eliciting the same response. Her erotic dancing
must have stimulated her, as well, preparing her for his mouth and
touch. He’d have to get her to dance for him on a regular basis
now, in private, as well. His own little harem girl.

Even though he’d managed to ignore them
during the height of Karla’s dance, the murmurs of several club
members reached him now. He tuned them out and focused once more on
Karla.

“Your dancing turned me on, kitten.”

She smiled like a woman who knew her power.
“I can tell, Master.” She squirmed against his dick.

“There’s nothing I want more right now than
to take you to the Arabian Nights theme room and have you feed me
grapes then have you, well, eat something else.”

Her pupils dilated and he knew she was ready
to leave the public area, too. But when he reached out to span her
waist and lift her off him, she placed her hands on his shoulders.
“Wait, Master.”

Why didn’t she just call him Sir again? Must
be the harem slave girl role-play she was in. Well, if she wanted
to role-play, he’d give her that. “What is it, my sexy little slave
girl?” She nibbled on her lower lip and closed her eyes. He placed
a knuckle under her chin and she opened her eyes as he tilted her
head back. “What’s wrong, kitten. Tell me.”

Her clear blue eyes met his gaze and she
swallowed hard. “I want to be your slave girl again.”

He hoped she didn’t mean what he thought she
meant. He reached up to rub the scar at the back of his neck. “I
very much want you to be my slave girl tonight, kitten. The whole
harem fantasy is one of my favorites and you have pleased me
by…”

She reached out and placed a finger against
his lips to shut him up. Not proper behavior for a slave or a sub,
but he wanted to know what was troubling her and let it slide.

“Not just tonight. I want to go back to the
Master/slave arrangement we tried before. I promise I’ll do better
this t—”

“No, kitten.” If he’d slapped her, he
wouldn’t have elicited a more shocked expression on her face. Her
lips quivered as she fought to control her emotions. She needed to
hear his reasons. Had he even explained the reason it wasn’t right
when he called off their TPE arrangement before? He’d talked more
about his regret for giving her that asinine command to get home
from Cassie’s with only a thirty-minute window to spare. Then
they’d dealt with the subdrop issue. Maybe if he focused this time
on why a Master/slave wasn’t right for her.

“I didn’t like seeing your personality change
when you were my slave. It’s not a healthy BDSM choice for either
of us. While I would enjoy having you as my slave girl on a
short-term basis, in fantasy role-playing like tonight, I don’t
want a twenty-four/seven slave ever again.”

The look she gave him seemed to accusing him
of lying. Where had that come from? He’d never lie to a sub. She
ought to know that by now. “What was that thought?”

She looked down at his vest. “Nothing,
Mast…Sir.”

She seemed disappointed calling him Sir
again. Damn it, he needed to know what was going on in that
beautiful mind of hers. “Whether you’re my slave or my sub, you
answer a direct question. Now, tell me what you were thinking.”
Eyes downcast, she opened her mouth to speak.” He needed to read
what was going on here.