Dead Drop (The Guild #2)(72)
Leon tugged on my braid, tipping my head back further and peering down at me with an evil glint in his eye. “Good.”
My eyes narrowed with suspicion. “What do you mean, good?”
He was already on the move, though, taking my hand in his and pulling me along behind him.
“Marx,” I snapped in a harsh whisper when I realized what direction he was pulling me. “What the fuck are you—”
He whirled around abruptly, making me practically fall into his arms at the edge of the raised dais in the middle of the club. The threesome had finished, and a Meow Lounge employee was wiping all the surfaces down with disinfectant spray.
“Lee Sheridan doesn’t take meetings with pretty women who fuck his staff, DeLuna. You wanna catch his attention, you need to put on a show.” Without waiting for me to really think about what he was suggesting, he grabbed me by the waist and lifted me up onto the dais.
All of a sudden, in my six-inch stripper boots and standing on a raised platform, a whole lot of eyes were on me. Crap.
“You said no limits,” he purred in my ear as he stepped onto the platform with me, nudging me over to the bondage bench.
My brows hitched, but words failed me as he tugged off his black silk tie and tipped his head to the apparatus. I said there were no limits when I was working… but this was different. He was different. I couldn’t just switch off and dissociate when it was Leon. Could I?
His firm hand on my back pushed me to lie face down across the waist height bench, and I didn’t protest. How could I? If this was what it took to gain the owner’s attention… okay, sure, part of me was totally into it too and dying with curiosity to see how far Leon would take things. Exhibitionism was new for me, and that in itself had me complying more easily than I probably should have.
He looped his tie into a pretty, well-practiced knot, slipping it over my wrists and securing them at my lower back, just like the woman who’d been up here before us. A flush of heat zapped through me, remembering what else that woman had been doing. Was that what Leon had in mind? In which case, I was kind of sad Kai wasn’t here to participate.
Leon’s hands smoothed down my legs, over the leather of my tall boots, then he shifted my legs wider so he could buckle the ankle restraints on.
When he was satisfied, he crouched down to cup my face, amusement dancing in his eyes. “Such a good girl,” he whispered, mocking. “So docile and obedient.”
I wet my lips. “Revenge is a dish best served cold, Bunny.”
His grin was sharp as a blade, and he pressed a quick kiss to my mouth. “Just relax, beautiful. I think you’ll have fun.”
Oh, there was no question in my mind about that. The hungry gaze of strangers was impossible to block out once Leon stood up once more, circling back around to stand behind me, but I was okay with it. No way was I retreating into the cold, detached part of my mind that I used on honey traps, though. I wanted to be one hundred percent present for this and experience it all.
Leon flipped my pleated skirt up without warning, and the crowd murmured with appreciation. Cold steel nipped the skin of my hip as he cut my lace panties off, and the residual sting told me he’d deliberately marked me in the process.
My breath caught as cool air touched my nakedness, and I was painfully aware how exposed I was to the whole club. Or to anyone watching, that was. A lot of patrons were getting on with their own thing, not paying us any mind, but more than a few were watching like we were the main event of a cabaret show.
“Oh, mon cœur,” Leon groaned as he grabbed two handfuls of my ass, spreading me open further. “You are already so wet, you dirty girl. You want me to fuck this pussy right here on the stage, don’t you?” He dipped two fingers into me, and I bit my lip to stifle a moan. He could play all he wanted, but no way in hell was he making me beg him in front of all these people.
Danny DeLuna didn’t beg. Much.
Movement to the side of the stage caught my eye as someone tossed Leon something. Ah crap, now what was he up to? I craned my neck to see, and he met my gaze with a sexy smirk. Then he winked and slapped the leather spanking paddle against his hand.
“Seriously?” I muttered, narrowing my eyes.
He shrugged, then smacked my ass with the paddle, making me jolt against the bench. Only my ankles were tethered, and without the use of my hands I was in danger of falling off if I moved around too much. Now that would be embarrassing.
“Pretty sure I’m serious,” he replied, sounding far too fucking gleeful. He spanked the other cheek, and I hissed a gasp at the sharp pain. It was quickly followed by the heat of blood rushing to the surface, and he took his time massaging my flesh. “Come on, DeLuna, scream a bit. You and I both know you can put on a good show when motivated.”
I let out a shuddering breath, smiling at his reference to our video chats. He was right, though. We were doing this, so may as well do it right. The next smack he delivered to my backside earned a loud moan out of me, and he chuckled as he rubbed my undoubtedly red backside with his hand.
It wasn’t even faked, either. I was so turned on by the whole situation I was dancing on a knife edge, with my pussy clenching tight on each strike. He took his time, spanking me with the paddle deliberately slowly to make a good show of it, then when my whole rear end was probably glowing—it certainly felt like it—he tossed the paddle aside and sank his fingers into my cunt.