Page 10 of Filthy Dirty Dom
“The drink is fine,” she said.
“Good.” David slid an arm around her shoulders and leaned back on the sofa. The threesome had switched things up, and now the woman was tying up the two men, both men standing face to face with their hands wrapped around the other’s waists as the woman bound them together with a long leather strap. Suddenly David dropped his hand down and caressed the top of her breast. She shifted in her seat, ostensibly to get a better view of the floor show but in reality to get David’s hand away from her breast. He’d given her mild pleasure with his touch in the past, but right then she found his touch not just annoying, but almost unbearable.
After the act ended, Anya came over with another round. Leslie hadn’t even started on her second drink, but David was downing his fourth. Was he more nervous than he was letting on? Seeking Dutch courage? And if so, for what?
“The acts are taking a five-minute break. I noticed a table over near the other stage that’s empty. I saved it for you, thinking you might appreciate being closer to the action,” Anya said.
David looked at Leslie, a hopeful smile on his face. “What do you think, Leslie? Should we move over to the table?”
Leslie glanced over to where Anya pointed. The table was intimate, with comfortable seats, and had a front-row view of the stage. More people had come this way in the short time she and David had been there, and the bar was already crowded. They’d be lucky to get those seats, she realized, but she was once again conflicted by the dual desires to stay and go.
“David,” she began, and it was as if he could tell she was about to suggest they leave because he stood, took her hand and tugged her out of her seat. “Come on, let’s grab the table while we still can.”
Leslie pasted a smile on her face for Anya. “Thanks for the heads up.”
“No problem. I’ll lead the way.”
Leslie and David followed Anya through the crowd. At some point, however, Leslie’s footsteps faltered. She kept walking even as an inexplicable sensation washed over her, causing her skin to prickle like it was being caressed by a thousand tiny feathers. With each step, her chest tightened and the air around her thickened with something electric, like the charged stillness before a thunderstorm. She couldn't shake the feeling that something mysterious was beckoning to her, urging her to look over her shoulder and discover what hid in the shadows. It was like a haunting melody, faint yet captivating.
Finally, Leslie stopped walking altogether and pulled her grip from David’s grasp when he tried to keep tugging her along. Tension raced down her spine, and she couldn't help but feel a sense of being watched by an unyielding gaze, like that of a predator fixated on its prey. Leslie's heart quickened its pace, her senses heightened, attuned to every movement around her.
Slowly, she turned around to face the bar.
She gasped.
All the air seemed to evaporate from her lungs.
Her heart leaped into her throat as she spotted Alex sitting at the bar, a magnetic presence that immediately drew her in like a moth to a flame. His dark hair, tousled slightly, framed his handsome face. His intense, dark eyes locked onto hers with a fierceness that sent shivers down her spine. The slight shadow on his strong jaw only added to his allure, and his tall, broad-shouldered frame exuded strength and confidence. The tattoos exposed by his short-sleeved black shirt added the extra edge to his appearance that made her instantly wet.
As their eyes met, Leslie felt an electric charge pass between them, his gaze burning with a possessiveness that she had never witnessed before, not in Montana, not at the charity bachelor auction where Alex had met David, and not any time after that.
The idea of being someone's prey had never appealed to her, but now, under his gaze, it felt thrilling and enticing. She wanted him. A part of her yearned to surrender to his intensity—to be devoured by his passion and to lose herself in the wildness of their desire.
Because there was desire in his eyes.
Not for the blonde sitting next to him, who was obviously trying to get his attention, but for her.
5
From the moment he’d noticed her in the club, Alex kept his gaze firmly fixed on Leslie, even when the blonde excused herself to go the restroom and then returned. Now, as the blonde prattled on about her recent trip to Paris and how she’d gone to an exclusive sex club outside the city, Alex tried to tell himself he was just keeping an eye on his best friend’s little sister to make sure she was safe, but that was a bullshit excuse. Her bodyguard, Elvis, was even now mingling with the crowd, ready to handle any threat against Leslie in a moment’s notice. No, Alex wasn’t worried about anything bad happening to her in this club, where the clientele was affluent and screened beforehand. In addition to her bodyguard, if someone got out of hand, it would be mere seconds before one of the big burly bouncers who were strategically located throughout the club would throw them out…or worse.
No one got away with breaking the rules here. But just because he knew Leslie was relatively safe, especially with him here, it didn’t mean he didn’t want to rip the arms off the man she was with—the man Alex had dubbed Doctor David or Doctor Douchebag or Doctor Dickhead depending on Alex’s mood.
As soon as Alex had seen him in this context, he’d realized why the man who Leslie claimed to have an open relationship with had seemed familiar to him when he’d met him at that charity bachelor auction.
He frequented some of the same sex clubs as Alex.
Had he been here with Leslie before?
Had he tied her up and fucked her?
Had he been the one to put that damn ball gag in her mouth?
Had he spanked her? Dominated her?
The woman next to him cried out at the sound of shattering glass, and it was only then that Alex realized he’d slammed his drink glass onto the bar so hard it had cracked in two places.
“So you prefer brunettes, huh, lover? She looks a little tame for you.”