“Stay close to me,” Charlie murmured.
Livy nodded, scurrying after her mentor when a shirtless man in tight black leather breeches winked at her and ran his tongue slowly over his lips.
The Hellfire Club had several floors, and Livy and Charlie made their way through each, looking for Ben and his group. Each floor showcased a different theme of depravity. Livy’s cheeks burned behind her mask as she passed glass cubicles where guests were tupping in front of a cheering audience. The astonishing variations made her blink. In one coupling, a man sat upon a chair with a brunette astride him, her back to his chest. His large hands fondled her breasts as she impaled herself on his erect member, moaning loudly.
Swallowing, Livy moved on, her gaze locking upon a darkly erotic tableau vivant. Upon a stage, men and women dressed as satyrs and nymphs held as still as a painting while in the midst of sexual acts, their expressions frozen in unmistakable ecstasy. That look of bliss was shared by a man on a nearby dais who, shockingly, was naked and held in a pillory. A woman in a red leather corset and black stockings applied a birch to his backside as he yowled in delight.
Circling through the stories of the building, Livy grew numb to shock. The top floor, however, proved that her nerves could still be jolted. She followed Charlie into a chamber decorated like a feverishly imagined seraglio. Plaster arches framed murals of a Turkish courtyard on a starry night. The ceiling was festooned with swathes of gauzy jewel-colored fabric, the bright, sensual colors echoed on the carpets below. And upon those rugs…
Men and women were engaged in a lascivious free-for-all. Bodies were connected to one another—sometimes to more than one person—in an undulating chain. Guttural sounds filled the air, and the smells of sex, perfume, and a strange, sweet smoke were everywhere. Livy’s bosom surged on rapid breaths, her cheeks throbbing against her mask. She didn’t know what to make of her reaction: a mix of shock, repulsion…and titillation?
Yearning for Ben pierced her. She missed him so, and witnessing all this carnality was oddly adding to her physical ache. Her brain conjured up an image of Ben taking her the way a man was taking a brunette on a nearby rug: with his hands holding her hair like reins, his hips pounding her bottom in disciplined thrusts…
“I see them.” Charlie’s low tones focused Livy on the mission. “By the palms.”
Livy directed her gaze at the row of potted plants that separated the seraglio from the seating area just beyond. Through the barrier of fronds, she spotted their targets, her heart banging into her ribs at the sight of Ben. In shirtsleeves and a black mask, he sat on a low divan…with Cherise Foxton cozied up next to him. Lady Foxton wore a skimpy crimson robe edged with black lace and, it was obvious, nothing beneath. Her mask did not hide her expression, like that of a cat with a dish of cream.
Livy’s hands curled when the bloody woman ran a finger along Ben’s jaw.
Get your dashed claws off him, Livy’s inner voice yelled. He’s mine.
Ben didn’t reciprocate Lady Foxton’s flirtation, but he did not stop the odious woman’s advances. Instead, he seemed intent upon talking to her while she flirted and laughed in an intoxicated manner. Suddenly, she surged to her feet, teetering; she might have fallen had Ben not risen and put steadying hands on her waist.
Livy gnashed her teeth as Lady Foxton took the opportunity to mold herself against Ben, pushing her nearly exposed breasts against his chest. When he set her aside, she grabbed his hand, leading him out of the seating area toward a corridor just beyond. As they departed, Edgecombe, Thorne, and Bollinger gave hoots of approval.
The bastards, Livy fumed.
“I have to go after Ben,” she muttered.
“Have a care, and make sure he does not see you,” Charlie whispered. “I will stay here and monitor the others.”
With a nod, Livy took off after Ben and Lady Foxton, reaching the corridor just as the two entered a room at the far end, the door closing behind them. Jealousy pounded in Livy’s chest. While she trusted Ben, she did not trust Lady Foxton.
How can I spy on them when they are locked in that room? she thought desperately.
“First time, my sweet?” a voice drawled.
Livy started at the man who’d materialized next to her. He was in his thirties, wiry and slim, his eyes the same shade as his bronze mask. Wanting to get rid of him, she gave a dismissive nod.
“You like to watch, I presume?” He smirked at her. “Well, I shall let you in on a little secret: the best performances are the ones given by unwitting actors. Such as in those rooms.” He gestured at the corridor.
Livy’s heart thudded. “You mean…there is a way to see inside those rooms?”
“Your wish is my command.” The stranger bowed. “Follow me, my sweet.”
30
Alone in the room of a pleasure house with a woman he’d once swived, Ben was confronted by his sordid past. In truth, he felt disgusted with himself. Not long ago, he would have thought nothing of fucking Cherise at this orgy. Of playing their mutually agreed upon games. Yet even then he’d known that he was just going through the motions. There’d been no care or connection between him and Cherise. They’d merely used each other to spend.
Afterward, he’d felt even more alone. The feeling of emptiness would spread like a cancer. And he’d known with a stark certainty that happiness would forever elude him.
Being with
