Whipped (Hitched #2)(10)

There's an all-you-can-eat open buffet to the right of the dance floor and several people in various states of undress are pilling up their plates. Fucking and dancing takes carbs and stamina, but no way have I ever eaten here. I shudder just imagining what has made its way into that food.

While downstairs may offer newbies a peep or two, upstairs is where all the action is. As I head up, a woman dressed in a leather corset and not much else guides a man on all fours with a leash. He's muzzled and wearing a loincloth. I recognize the woman as another Dom and nod a greeting to her as we pass on the staircase.

Upstairs, you can smell the sex. It's everywhere. In one corner, a raised bed is set up off the floor, with stirrups for feet. On it, a naked, writhing woman is strapped down while one man eats her * and another two suck at her tits. The erotic naughtiness of it makes me wet, and I watch as the man eating her stands, slips a condom on his extra-large cock, and shoves it into her. She cries out and one of the men still sucking on her tits lets his hand fall to her clit. He rubs it while the other guy f*cks her and for a moment I wish I was in her place. Just for a moment.

One of the guys nods to me when he sees me watching. He lets go of the nipple long enough to smile and ask me if I want to be next.

I hesitate. Do I? It could fix my problem fast. When I imagine myself strapped down I shudder and shake my head. "Thank you, but no. Have fun."

He grins and goes back to the breast while I walk past them and into the den of anything goes. It's a room reserved for hard core BDSM. Normally it's even too heavy for me, but tonight I'm curious. I peek in and watch as all manner of kink is acted out by willing partners. A woman whipping her sub. Another man licking her heels.

It does nothing for me.

The ache is still there. I want something. But not this. And not those guys f*cking that girl. And certainly not my sexy new roommate. But something.

I half-consider calling Chad, but it's a thought that ends before it's fully formed. He deserves more than a booty call and I can't give him more.

If I hook up with anyone here, I know how the night will play out. A little kink, a good f*ck and I'll go home alone. I could get myself off without all this effort.

I've had too much of this, and realize I'm no longer in the mood. It's why I haven't been here in a while. Why I was ready to give up my work as a Dom, even though I never got sexual with clients. Why I knew it was time for a change. For Whipped. For… something more in my personal life.

I could have had that something more with Chad. He was the perfect sub and a great guy. Gorgeous, talented, my friends liked him. We even played house for a brief moment. But… it wasn't right.

Now, I don't even know what I'm looking for.

I ditch my plans for a night of nothing and head home, ready to strip off the tight clothes and leather accessories and just relax.

But I'm surprised to find Lachlan home. For some reason, I expected him to be out partying or something. I'm even more surprised when he holds out a bag with a bow on it when I walk in the door.

"My white flag," he says by way of explanation.

I accept it and pull out the contents. It's a new jug of milk. I smile at him, genuinely grateful for this kindness. It means coffee in the morning. "Thank you. I appreciate this."

I stick it in the fridge and lean against the counter, looking more closely at him. His eyes are still a bit bloodshot and he's rubbing the back of his neck. Last night must have been rough on him. "Still hungover, huh?"

He cocks his head. "Yeah. I got a bit f*cked up. Something about a bottle or two of rum… it's a bit murky after that."

I laugh as I move through the kitchen collecting ingredients for my famous hangover cure. "I bet. Rum is a sneaky bitch, no doubt."

"That she is." He eyes my assortment of foods suspiciously. "What are you making?"

"Your savior. Avert your eyes, this is a closely held family recipe that none but our kin are privy to."

He turns away as I add things to the blender and hit the button, causing him to flinch from the noise. When I'm done, I hand him a glass filled to the brim with a thick greenish brown sludge. "Drink it all. Every last drop. You'll thank me after."

"If I'm not dead," he says, his accent lingering over the words.

He chugs it all, and I give him props for keeping it down. Not everyone does. I count to ten in my mind and see the moment it starts affecting him.

His grin widens, spreading to his eyes. "That's amazing. You're a witch. A beautiful, brilliant, mad witch. I think I might be in love."

"Settle down, cowboy, it's just a drink, not a proposal. But I'm glad it helped."

"Me, too. I'm working tonight, and you just saved my ass."

Of course I have to look at said ass as he walks into the living room, and I pat myself on the back for saving something so very perfect.

"What do you do?" I ask to keep my mind off his body parts.

He grins that infuriating tease of a grin. "You should come and see. 10pm. Bring your friends. Do you still have the cards I gave you?"

I hang my head in shame. "No."

He laughs and hands me a few more.

The cards are thick, quality and my curiosity is definitely piqued. "Are you like a musician or something?"

"If you're wondering if I'm good with my hands…"