Domi wanted her orgasm.
A wicked grin lit up Mitch’s face, his blue eyes flashing bright with anticipation. He hadn’t been sure of her answer until she gave it, which was nice. She’d hate to be predictable.
“Let’s kiss on it,” he suggested, reaching out to grab her wrist and pull her around the leather seat of the curved booth. Domi went willingly, although she pretended to be less eager than she actually felt. Her body was already buzzing from when he’d trapped her legs between his—she still didn’t know why that was so hot.
When she was close enough, leaning toward him, he lowered his lips to hers.
He was a damn good kisser, and Domi loved kissing. It started gentle but demanding, his lips opening and his tongue sliding between hers. His hand glided down her back, then pulled her toward him, dragging her across the seat. Her short skirt rode up to her hips as he moved her.
One hand dipped down between her thighs, cupping her pussy... He jerked his head back when he realized she wasn’t wearing panties. Blue eyes blazed with desire and satisfaction.
“No underwear? Good girl.” He practically breathed the words, then his lips crashed down on hers again, rougher and with more intent. Domi whimpered as his fingers slid between her wet lips, exploring her swollen folds and rubbing her needy clit. “Do you consent to sex tonight, sweetheart?”
Domi moaned. “Yes, Sir.” Please, Sir. She wasn’t going to beg unless he made her. However, if he didn’t fuck her, she was probably going to stage a revolt.
He chuckled. “Thank God.” His fingers swirled around her clit as a reward, although she knew he probably would have done so either way. “Condom?”
“If you want.” Domi knew firsthand, condoms weren’t always trustworthy, but she never objected to a man taking responsibility for birth control, even though she had her own. She would have insisted on them if they were just doing a one-night hookup, regardless of his club membership, but since they were going to have dibs on each other, she’d make an exception for him. Truthfully, she liked the feeling of skin on skin better, anyway.
“That’s a no, then,” he said, pushing his fingers slightly inside her. Domi shivered, her eyes half closing as her body stretched for him, her wet sheath welcoming him in.
Not knowing where to put her hands, she left them where they were, one still on the table, the other beside her on the booth where he’d dropped it so he could touch her.
Even with her eyes closed, she knew when the lights dimmed. The show was about to start. The design of the booths made them very private, although not entirely soundproof, and she could hear the murmur of anticipation from everyone else in the room. Marquis’ stage room was set up like a theater in the round, with private booths all around the edge of the room and a large stage in the center where all manner of kinky demonstrations and shows happened. Domi’s arousal surged even more. She loved a good show.
Breaking off the kiss, Mitch swirled his fingers against her clit, his other hand moving up to the top of her corset. Her figure was too slight to really have cleavage, but the corset gave her the closest thing to it.
“This is going to have to come off,” he murmured.
“Quick release,” Domi purred with a flirtatious smile. It was why she liked the steampunk-style corsets. A few quick flicks to undo the front closures, and she was free. Mitch’s eyes lit up with appreciation as the sides of the corset fell away, leaving her upper body naked.
Mitch
Even in the dimmed lights, it was impossible not to appreciate Domi’s naked beauty. Her nipples stood out from the small mounds of her breasts, just begging to be pinched, bitten, and tormented. Her lips were parted, eyes alight, and cheeks flushed with eagerness. Mitch rubbed her clit a little harder, and she moaned, the slick heat of her pussy growing wetter with every stroke of his fingers.
Music, slow and languorous, with throbbing bass, filled the room. The regular lights dimmed even further, and a couple walked onto the slightly raised stage in the middle of the room where all the brightest lights were now focused. The way the lights were aimed kept them out of the darkened booths, though there were also privacy curtains available at each one, including black sheers for those who wanted to see out but didn’t want to be seen. Thick red velvet drapes could enclose the booth completely, turning it into a little oasis of privacy, which would mean not being able to watch the show. Mitch didn’t bother with either—he and Domi didn’t care about being seen.
Master Michael, one of the owners of Marquis, and his girlfriend and submissive, Ellie, stepped onto the stage. Like Mitch and Domi, Michael was a sadist, and Ellie was a masochist, a show guaranteed to appeal directly to them.
Michael was tall, muscular in a lanky way, with brown hair that brushed the tops of his cheeks and constantly getting in his eyes. In contrast, Ellie was short, generously curved, with creamy pale skin and nearly black hair. Her short silky robe accented her curves, thanks to the belt tied around her middle, and the skirt fluttered around her thighs. They were an attractive couple with a connection that was palpable.
Walking to the center of the stage, Michael turned to face his sub, leaning down to give her a soft, tender kiss on the lips. Barefoot, Ellie stretched up to meet him, the expression on her face adoring.
Mitch pulled away from Domi’s pussy, ignoring her whimper of disappointment. He pressed his wet fingers to her lips and bit back his own groan when she accepted
