Page 20 of Filthy Dirty Dom
“You okay?” Alex asked.
She nodded. “Yes. It’s just so…blatant.”
He chuckled. “That it is. But not everyone likes that. Some people visit the back rooms exclusively. There’s even another entrance, where one can access the back rooms without having to walk through this area. But I thought you might enjoy seeing all the place had to offer.”
“Yes,” she said quickly. “I don’t want you go easy with me, Alex. Not ever. But especially not tonight.”
His eyes flared as he stared down at her and for a minute, that’s all they were, two people surrounded by public sex all around them but unable to see anything but each other. When Leslie felt herself about to drown in her desire for him, she blinked and looked away. Deliberately, she focused on seeing not the people around them, but the details of the club.
She was expecting something like the sex club they’d visited earlier--modern and slick, but it wasn’t like that. Instead, the club exuded a timeless sophistication she never would have expected based on the decrepit exterior. Styled like a 1920s speak-easy, dimmed chandeliers dripping in strands of diamonds hung from the gold-plated ceilings. The brick walls were covered with ornate mirrors which reflected the patrons sitting at tables or on red velvet chaises. Candles heavy with dripped wax covered low tables along with crystal champagne flutes and lady’s designer hand clutches. The shelves of a bar crafted from the same deep colored wood as the door they just walked through glistened with hand blown bottles of liquors and liqueurs. At the large red marble bar top, a gorgeous woman, topless but for a crisp black apron and wearing a shiny black top hat, served drinks. Further into the room from behind gold velvet drapes came the faint sound of moans and cries.
Likely the private rooms Alex had just spoken of. Like the ones David had mansplained to her earlier that night.
Alex’s voice was like honey in her ear, “Let’s start with a drink for you.”
Leslie squeezed Alex’s fingers and smiled softly when he returned the gesture.
He pulled out an elegant barstool for her and helped her to perch atop it. For a second, she wished he’d led her to a table. Leslie wanted above all to give off the impression of a sophisticated woman, a worldly woman, graceful and poised, not a little kid whose toes didn’t touch the ground. He didn't take the barstool next to hers, but instead remained standing, turning into her, guarding over her, the warmth of his chest emanating like a furnace.
She liked that she was the focus of his attention even when so much was going on around him.
When the half-naked waitress came to them, supple hips shaking from side to side, Alex, to Leslie’s surprise, ordered for her. “She’ll have a gin gimlet, bruised,” he said.
For some reason, even though she’d never tried the drink before, him ordering for her didn’t bug her the way it had when David had done it for her. In fact, the confident and unwavering timber of his voice as he ordered for her made her shiver with pleasure.
"And what does the gentleman want?”
For a moment, the waitress’s charged words swirled around them. Alex’s hungry gaze swept over Leslie, as if cataloging what she had to offer him: salt from her sweat, aroma from her fruity shampoo, sweetness from her red painted lips, musk from her wet panties—and yes, they’d been damp since the moment she’d seen Alex earlier. In the end, eyes on Leslie’s, he said, “Club soda.”
She smiled, remembering what he’d told her at the King George. That even if he was off duty, he wouldn’t drink if she was in his care.
"You ordered for me," she said.
"Did it upset you?" he asked.
She didn’t voice what she was thinking. That him taking charge in that way only made it easier to imagine other ways he would assert his dominance. Like when she was gagged and on her knees before him...
The mental image made her breath catch in her throat.
Rattled, she looked away.
"No," she answered honestly.
Alex gently turned Leslie's chin to face him. She liked the calluses on his fingers, the slight scrape against her sensitive skin.
"Good," he said, his voice like honey. "That's very good, baby."
His praise made Leslie’s nipples hard, something she suspected Alex didn’t miss even as he caught her bottom lip with his thumb and tugged it down just slightly before releasing it. He turned away as their drinks arrived and Leslie thought she noticed a weak link in his supreme self-control. He gripped his glass of club soda with white knuckles. At the evidence that he wasn’t in control as much as she thought, she felt a surge of satisfaction, of power. It was when his desire for her broke through that calm, diligent exterior, when he seemed seconds away from taking her against whatever wall was closest, that she wanted him most.
9
Alex moved in closer, his leg against her knee, his chest squarely against her arm. He looked at her now not face-to-face, but in their reflections in the patinaed bar mirror. Despite the distance of his gaze, Leslie felt the burning in his eyes.
“So, why a gin gimlet?” she finally asked.
“Because it’s bright and fresh. Because it’s sneakily strong. Because it’s like you,” Alex answered. “And because I believe you haven’t tried it before and that’s what you’re here to explore… something you haven’t tried before.”
His words both aroused and scared her. Because with Alex here, she knew she’d finally be brave enough to do exactly what he said. And maybe not just watch what she’d never done before, but participate in it.