My heart beats faster as she walks away, her hips and shoulders swaying a little. Like her body can’t help but move to the beat. She is a dancer, after all. I should’ve said yes to the dance.
She stops a little way off, hands clasped behind her back. She’s in profile, so I watch—enthralled—as her back arches, pushing her breasts up and out, her peaked nipples in stark outline against the backdrop of flashing lights.
Then she points. I follow the line of her arm right up to the tip of her finger. Searching for her target.
A boy appears from the crowd. Young, handsome, shirtless. His chest rising and falling in rapid succession, like she makes him breathless.
He’s been dancing, I correct myself. He’s hot, and sweaty, and breathing hard from the dancing.
But I don’t believe it. It’s her who makes him breathless. His hands are on her body as soon as he’s close enough. Feeling their way up and down her slim waist, then reaching for her tits.
I almost walk over there, but her glance stops me. Don’t interfere.
She points again and another boy appears, then another. Same age as the first—Nadia’s age. Same hard bodies. Same handsome faces. Same undeniable attraction. They smother her for a moment. Their arms surrounding her. Hands seeking more. Knees pressing between her legs. For a moment I’m transfixed by the four of them. I see me, and Smith, and Quin with our chosen one, but with the power structure in reverse.
Is this how she plays her game? Is she me?
She turns away from them, walking back to me. They follow like dogs. When she gets back to our table she leans against it, like she needs help standing. I move aside, letting her have her space. None of the boys even bother looking at me. They only look at her.
Waiting for instructions, I realize. She kisses one. Her hands on his face. Like she needs to hold him. He kisses her back. I watch his tongue touch hers, his hands at his side, as if she gave a command, but I know she didn’t.
They know her. She has played with them before. And I don’t care what she says—she has fucked them before.
The other two wait patiently, still with eyes only for her. Her regular players waiting for her commands.
Nadia is a top, I remind myself. In her real life, she is a top.
She looks every bit her chosen role right now.
Her fingertips reach for the other two now, the first still kissing her as she plays with their chests, draws them into her. Closer and closer until they are nothing but a mass of bodies moving together. Writhing to the hard beat of the impromptu club.
Her hand presses on the shoulder of the one closest to me and he drops to his knees. The first one—the one she’s kissing—leans into her until she bends at the waist, letting her back rest on the table.
My cock is so fucking hard.
He—the first one—lifts up her top. A silky, pale chemise that belongs in the bedroom. He exposes her breasts. Squeezes them as she closes her eyes and opens her mouth. I can’t hear the moan that passes through her lips, but I feel it. I moan too.
The third boy lifts up her legs and opens them, just as the second places his face between her legs and begins to lick her.
The first is bent over the booth, still kissing her mouth. I don’t feel her moans now, he does.
Her back begins to arch as she enjoys the one between her legs. The third player caresses the back of the first and I wonder how far this will go.
People are watching. Some of the young men already jerking off. Some of them with girls on their knees, taking out their cocks.
It’s Turning Point Club. But not private. Nothing about this moment is private. And even though it should make me angry, even though I should want to take her out of here right now and whisk her away, back to the world I live in—the world I control—I don’t do any of that.
I just enjoy the show. The whole show. All of the people. All of the music. All of the club.
Nadia begins to writhe and I know she’s about to come. So quick, but it’s too erotic not to come. Too many eyes to not be ready. Too much stimulation. Too much hard music and way too fucking hot.
The third boy has his hand between her legs, his fingers playing with her clit as the second one licks.
I grab my cock again, wishing I could fuck her, right here, right now, in front of all these strangers.
She moans loud enough to be heard. Her body twists as the boys touch her, lick her, kiss her.
She comes all over the third boy’s fingers and when she calms down, breathing hard and eyes still closed, she reaches for his hand, finds it, guides it up to her lips, and puts his fingers in her mouth.
Her eyes open and she looks right at me.
She smiles, then lifts a leg and kicks the boys away. They back off, unperturbed, and slink back into the crowd, which has gone from clubbing kids enjoying an illicit party to writhing erotic orgy. All on the command of Nadia Wolfe.
She stands up and turns to me, her silky shirt falling back down to cover her tits. Her fingers reach for me, begin to unbutton my shirt, and then she pulls it open, exposing my chest. She is hot and sweaty from the thrill of other men.
And I don’t care.
I stand up and take her hand, pulling her towards me. Kiss her. My hands on her face as I hold her close. And then I push her face first onto the table, pressing her cheek into the hard wood. I lift up her skirt so I can see her pussy. Wet and glistening in the flashing lights from being licked to orgasm.
And then I look over my shoulder, find the first guy who gave me a peek at his girl, and give him a peek at mine.
He smiles big, gives me a thumbs up—all the while, his girl is sucking his dick—and then I turn back to Nadia Wolfe, take out my cock, and push it inside her as hard as I can.
I fuck her. I fuck her until I come inside her pussy and then pull back to watch the creamy evidence of my arousal leak out from between her lips.
We dance after that. Her body is a work of art. Her long hair stuck to her face from the sweat. My fingers inside her sometimes. Her hand on my cock sometimes.
We drink the brandy but get drunk on each other. We get drunk on the night, on the dancing, on the sweat, and the lights, and the music.
I fuck her again when we get to the car. Face first on the hood of the cold metal. Her moans loud, and clear, and erotic as they echo through the dark night and turn into screams of ecstasy.
People watch us.
People I don’t know. People I don’t trust.
People like me.
Chapter Fourteen - Nadia
My whole body aches when I wake. And not the usual kind, because I can’t even remember a time before my body was in a constant state of ache from dancing. It’s the… hangover kind. Uggggh. I groan, rolling over, to check my phone for the time. “Jesus,” I mumble, closing my eyes. Way too early.