Page 67 of Cross My Heart
Finally, he draws back, eyes glittering in the dim light. “You liked watching, at the party?”
I nod, already unsteady as my body shivers with lust.
“We could find a show to enjoy tonight…” he murmurs, dipping his mouth to lick along my collarbone. “Or, perhaps, you’d like to be the main attraction.”
People watching me?
My body tightens at the idea. Saint notices my reaction, and lifts his head, fixing me with a smoldering look. “Oh, that’s how it is,” his mouth curls in a wicked grin. “You want to be watched. To have their eyes on you… Seeing just how you like to take it.”
I moan, I can’t help it. My body floods with a hot rush of need, just imagining it.
“Come with me,” he says, taking my hand. He leads me deeper into the building, past open doorways and the sounds of animal pleasure. I glance around, glimpsing flashes of explicit scenes and the luxurious surroundings before we arrive in an open lounge area, lit by the romantic glow of lamps on the wall, and lined with low couches. There are maybe a dozen people here already, relaxed, heads bent in leisurely conversation—and more.
But when Saint steps into the room, the energy changes.
People turn to look at us, assessing. I can see interest and attraction on the women’s faces—and some of the men, too. And unlike the Midnight party, nobody is wearing a mask.
I feel a fresh edge to my thrill. I’m not hidden here, the way I was there. People can see me, know me. Whatever I do here tonight, they’ll know exactly who is participating.
There’s no hiding from my desires.
Saint draws me over to one of the chaises, positioned in the middle of the room. I pause, suddenly nervous. “Saint…” I whisper, glancing around. Everybody’s looking now. I want this, God, I do, but still…
“Shhh...” Saint seems to read my mind. He tugs off his tie and ties it over my eyes in a makeshift blindfold. “There,” he whispers, his voice seeming more intimate in the darkness that suddenly settles over me. “They’re all watching you, darling. But I just want you to focus on me. Can you do that?”
I exhale in relief. Enfolded in this velvet darkness, with nothing but the sound of Saint’s voice, my nerves melt away, and I feel bold again.
“Yes,” I whisper.
Yes to whatever happens next.
I feel Saint’s hands on my body, undressing me. He peels away my blouse and jeans, skimming over my breasts before unfastening my bra, and letting them fall free, already heavy and aching. He palms them roughly, and I shudder under his possessive touch. Every one of my senses feels heightened, now that I’m blindfolded, and every caress seems to spark through my taut, craving body.
And when I picture everyone in the room watching us…
My heart races, beating wildly in my chest.
Saint tugs down my panties too, and when I’m naked, he guides me back until I’m lying down, spread there on the chaise. “God, you’re so beautiful,” his voice murmurs hoarsely, and then his mouth is skimming over my body, lavishing my breasts and sucking my nipples into two wet, aching peaks.
“Saint…” I whimper, arching against his mouth.
He chuckles against my bare skin. “You have such perfect tits. Maybe I should have one of our audience come lick them, while I’m occupied elsewhere…”
My body clenches with shocked lust. Saint dips a hand between my legs, softly stroking my core. “Getting wetter, baby?”
I moan, writhing against him. Here in the darkness, every pleasure is intensified. And when he eases one finger inside me, and then another, thickly pulsing, I feel it everywhere. I arch against his hand, chasing the staccato rhythm as he thrusts, fucking me with his fingers until I’m gasping for more.
“Another, darling?” Saint muses. I moan my assent. “Say it,” he orders me softly. “Tell everyone what you need.”
Our audience.
Again, the realization that I’m spread for him, naked and moaning in front of everyone sends new heat spiraling through my body.
Heat, and a bold recklessness.
“I need another finger,” I gasp, hearing my own voice ring out, clear and loud in the hushed room. “Please, fill me up. Fuck me deep.”
God.