He picked up a multi-button remote from the table beside the settee. "You told me that you wanted to see more of Paris. Here's another slice of it." He pressed a button. The curtain began to open, revealing a wall of glass.
Behind the glass was . . . was . . .
When I realized what I was beholding, I breathed, "Oh. My. God."
Sevastyan's hand shot out to catch my champagne flute just before it hit the ground. . . .
CHAPTER 34
When my shock lessened a degree, I was able to comprehend what I was seeing beyond the room's glass wall.
Sevastyan had brought me to this private club to witness . . . an orgy.
And it was going on strong.
There must have been three dozen participants, attractive ones. They were all in a center ring, as if in a circus, with sex apparatus everywhere.
Masked men and women were strapped to X-frames, caged in pillories, or suspended from chains in the ceiling. One woman was fettered to what looked like a body-shaped massage table. Females and males were bent over crimson boudoir chairs. Strong hands gripped splayed ankles.
Once I'd recovered enough to react, my hands flew to my mask. "They can see us watching them?"
"They can't see inside," Sevastyan assured me. "They only see a mirror, unless we push a button on the remote. And, Natalie, they're fully aware they're being watched."
Then I'd just been taken to voyeur heaven. "This--is--the--tits."
"Indeed."
One naked woman was perched on a trapeze with her ass atop the bar, her feet resting on either side. The trapeze was lowered until she was mouth-level with a guy who buried his face between her legs, while a brawny man slowly took him from behind.
Not everyone was naked. Some wore leather accessories. Others wore elaborate lingerie: shimmery corsets, intricate garters, and striped hose as if from Moulin Rouge. One man's entire body was encased in some kind of vacuum-sealed black sleeve, with only an air tube and his erection protruding--the latter of which was promptly utilized by a nubile female.
I wanted to examine every little detail, every act in the ring. It was as if there were scenes from all of my most erotic dreams. I wished I had ten sets of eyes! Or that I could record this.
Every lash across upthrust breasts made my own swell against my bustier. When the trapeze woman began screaming her way to ecstasy, bucking against that man's mouth, my panties grew wet.
Without dragging my gaze away, I said, "There are other rooms like this?" I'd noticed all the walls surrounding the orgy were mirrored.
"There are six total."
"You told me you've been here before. Were you down there?"
"On occasion."
One woman was tied backward over what looked like a huge barrel. Men lined up to use her mouth, while others took turns licking her. She seemed starving for more.
Had Sevastyan been one among those men?
Just as jealousy flared, he pulled me into his lap, curling his finger under my chin so I'd face him. "And I hungered to be where I am now. With a woman in my keeping. I'd wager most of them in the ring would envy us our position."
"You'd want a single woman over all those beauties?" The closest one to us was model fine, on her hands and knees and spitted by two men--a shaft in her mouth and another between her legs. They were railing the hell out of her, to her blatant delight.
Sevastyan said, "Considering that you are the woman in question, yes."
Smooth. "Do you want us to be down there now?"
"I told you. I learned very early not to share. No one else touches what's mine." His gaze flicked over my face. "Can you handle this?"
Did he think I'd beg off? "Since they can't see in, it's like watching porn. Which I excel at. So all good here."
He dragged me against his chest. Once I'd settled comfortably on his lap, he handed my glass back to me.
Sipping champagne and watching unabashed sex while his scent permeated my mind.
In fact, all of my senses were heightened. There was music, even laughter, but the rest of the sounds were erotic. Moans, groans, and rampant screams. Crackling leather, clanking chains, and snapping floggers.
Against my ass, I could feel Sevastyan's heavy cock like a red-hot brand. I found myself squirming against it, rubbing my thong against my wet labia.
Even the bubbling champagne tickled my tongue. I imagined pouring it down his body and licking him clean. . . .
Yet aside from all I was seeing and feeling, I couldn't stop thinking about the fact that Sevastyan had chosen me to bring here, had purchased this room with me in mind. The idea of him taking such care to get every detail right moved me.
He truly was trying for us.
I finished my champagne, vaguely aware that he took the flute from me.
Then his hand wandered up the slit of my gown, which had ridden up well above the top of my thigh-high. "Spread your legs as much as you can."
Never looking away from the spectacle, I did, bending one knee over his legs. I wanted my thighs wider; I wanted to be rid of this confining dress. I needed his skin against mine, as much as I needed to see everything happening in the ring--every new knot, kiss, whipping, and release. My gaze bounced from one scene to the next.
"Yes." I had to suck in so he could get the zipper down.
"You're certain?"
"One hundred percent." I was ready to partake, to enjoy--and to make progress in our relationship. We'd had two hurdles--sexual frustration and lack of emotional intimacy. Tonight we would dismantle the first, paving the way toward fixing the second.
Once I'd stepped from the gown, he balled it up and lobbed it in the direction of his jacket. Men.
With me still turned from him, he knelt to roll down one of my hose; then off went the other one, leaving me in only my mask, thong, and bustier.