“How are you?” Nic asked, rubbing a hand over my back.
“A little nervous,” I admitted. “It’s one thing to do this in the comfort of my own bedroom, another in front of a live audience.”
He nodded and stepped closer. “We don’t have to go through with it if you don’t want to.”
I shook my head. “No. I want to.”
Two months had passed since Nic took ownership of Velvet’s building, and a lot had changed in that time. Renovations were in full swing on the third floor. We’d opened our doors on Thursday and Sunday nights as well, and were already doing enough business that they’d become profitable. Hoping to capitalize on our earlier brainstorming, we were even subletting to boudoir photographers and camworkers during the day. Velvet was pulling in more money than ever before, and not just because Nic had kept good on his word and lowered our rent.
Things had changed between us as well. Nic had barely let me out of his sight that first month, concerned that he’d miscalculated and his father might actually do something to hurt us. But Moira had stayed when everyone else left, and she spent that time pulling Nico Senior back from the brink inch by bloody inch. Now they were in couples therapy, and the thought of reconciliation didn’t seem as impossible as it had in the days right after that disastrous family dinner.
Nic was slowly starting to relax, starting to believe that he was really, truly free, and the change coming over him was incredible to witness. He’d stopped wearing his mask in the club. We’d spent every weekend visiting the various rooms together, learning what we liked as a couple. Voyeurism remained our most deeply shared kink, but Nic had other tastes that he was still exploring, and it turned out exhibitionism and bondage were two of his favorites. Hence us standing in the narrow back hallway that ran behind all the private rooms, me dressed in lingerie and a silk robe, him, a pair of low-slung jeans.
My eyes kept catching on his naked torso, the tattered wings tattooed on his chest, the guns on his ribs, and then his abs, unmarred by ink but dotted with scars. Nic’s muscles weren’t showy. They were dense, compact. He didn’t have a gym rat body; he had the physique of someone who had gained his muscles the hard way, and I was addicted to the sight of it. Especially because half the time we fucked, I was in such a rush to get him inside me that he rarely had time to do anything except unzip his pants. I kept telling myself to slow down, to take my time, but even several months since the first time I’d laid eyes on him again in the church hallway, I still lost my head around him, and honestly? I hoped that never changed.
“Are you sure you don’t want to know what you’re in for?” he asked.
I shook my head. “Not knowing is half the thrill.”
His lips pulled up in a devilish grin. “Suit yourself then.”
My gaze dropped to his favorite red rope in his hands. The sound of it creaking in the narrow hall sent my pulse racing. I’d seen him practicing knots with it almost nonstop over the past month—while we were on the couch watching TV, just beyond my camera whenever he sat in on one of my filming sessions, even at the dinner table after he’d finished eating. He was like one of those grannies who carried around her latest crochet project everywhere she went, only he was learning all the ways to tie me up with it instead of making me a nice pair of gloves.
Not that I was complaining. I loved that he was coming out of his shell. Loved that I was able to share my world so openly with him. He’d stayed true to his word, never getting jealous over my work or trying to restrict me in any way. Just last night, he’d gone down on me while I was sexting with a sub, and I swear it resulted in the most inspired sexts of my life.
“Hey,” he said, slipping a finger through the tie of my robe and using it to drag me forward.
I gazed up at him, my nerves and desire competing for dominance. “Yeah?”
“You know I love you, right?” he said.
I smiled. “I know. And I love you, too.”
He nodded. “Good. Keep that in mind, because you might start thinking you hate me halfway through this.”
What the—
The chime rang out that indicated the start of the show, and Nic threaded his fingers into mine and led me through the door. Each room in Velvet was different, decorated to capture the mood of what went on inside them, kink-specific props on every stage. In the bondage room, the lighting was soft and warm, the hardwood lacquered to allow for easy cleaning. My heels clicked over the floorboards as we passed a Saint Andrews cross, a flogging horse, and a queening chair.
I kept my eyes straight ahead, focused on Nic’s broad back, because I knew that if I looked out at the crowd, my anxiety would spike. I wanted to do this so badly, had dreamed about it for years, but this was our first time performing. No matter how turned on I was by thoughts of what was to come, of being watched so closely, I was still nervous.
Nic stopped us next to a simple padded leather tantra chaise that had been conveniently moved to the center of the stage—at least I’d be somewhat comfortable through whatever was to come. He tossed his rope onto it and turned toward me, cupping my face, tilting me up until our gazes locked. His eyes were darker than usual, a deep emerald because of how wide his pupils were, and knowing that the promise of tying me up and getting me off in front of everyone had him so turned on only served to spin me higher.
“Thank you for doing this with me,” he said, pressing his forehead to mine.
I let out a shaky breath, willing the last of my nerves to disappear. “You’re welcome.”
“I love you, Lo.”
“I love you, too.”
With a tug, he had me rising onto my tiptoes so he could seal his mouth over mine. I opened for him immediately, loving the way his tongue slid against mine, how he stepped closer, as if even the slightest gap of air between us was unacceptable. He didn’t just kiss me; he claimed me, marked me, telling everyone else in the room that while they were allowed to watch, only he was allowed to touch.
His hands dropped from my face, and a tug at my waist told me he was undoing the sash on my robe. Cool air raced over my skin when it fell open, making me shiver, and then he was pushing it off, down over my arms, so everyone could see the barely there lace I wore beneath it.
A whistle cut through the crowd, and then Taylor’s familiar voice. “Yas, bitch!”
Everyone laughed, including me and Nic, and I was going to give her the biggest hug after this for keeping her promise to immediately break the tension. Perhaps most people wouldn’t have wanted their friends watching them with their partner, but Taylor and Ryan had already seen every part of me, had helped me nitpick my videos. To me, this wasn’t much different, and the thought of them out there gave me heart, reminded me that everyone in this room was here with good intentions.
Music filtered down from overhead, dark and melodic. The lights dimmed, and suddenly it felt like it was just Nic and me in the room. He guided me to the chaise and bid me to lie back on it. And then he was on me, hands braced by my ribs, lips trailing down my neck. He moved lower, tonguing and biting at my nipples through the lace until I was panting, digging my fingers in his hair to keep him there. But he had other destinations in mind and kept moving, gently pulling out of my grip to make his way down my stomach. He placed a single chaste kiss on the fabric covering my pussy, and then hooked his hands beneath my knees and pushed them up, so it looked like I was sitting on an invisible chair while lying down.
“Keep them there,” he said, voice rough.
I nodded, watching, waiting with bated breath to see what he would do next. He lifted the rope and uncoiled it, revealing that it was actually three separate pieces. Two, he dropped onto my stomach, and the third, he folded in half, creating a bend—more often referred to as a “bite” in bondage terms. He wrapped the rope around my left thigh, just above the knee, once, twice, three times, and then tied two simple square knots to secure it, leaving the bite sticking out. With a tug, he tested it to make sure it would hold, and then straightened that leg so he could kiss the inside of my calf.
His eyes, dark and smoldering with desire, met mine. “Not too tight?”
I shook my head, anticipation rising.
He grinned and slid his hand down my leg, smacking the side of my ass hard enough to sting. “That’s my girl.”
Several low sounds from the audience told me I wasn’t the only one who appreciated the praise and the reminder that we were being watched left me breathless, in a good way. This wasn’t much different than what I already did, but instead of getting my feedback through messages and tips, I got to hear it live, and knowing that we were about to get a room full of people off sent my desire into the stratosphere.
Nic dragged one of the spare ropes from my stomach, taking his sweet time trailing it between my legs, and tied it around my other leg in exactly the same manner as the first. I had no idea what he was doing. This wasn’t one of the bonds we’d practiced before, but I trusted him not to hurt me, to know my limits. And if things got out of hand, I could always use my safe word: taser.
He stepped between my legs when he was done, grabbing the end of the first rope. Then he leaned forward, hand around my neck, helping me to sit up just enough to wrap the rope behind it. He looped it beneath my armpit and pulled it to the front again, where he slipped one end through the bite on my opposite leg. Then he tied another simple square knot and tugged, tightening the bond, drawing my knee close to my chest.
Oh my god, he was going to bind me up like this? I wouldn’t be able to wrap my legs around him. I wouldn’t be able to grind against him. I’d be almost completely motionless from the waist down. No wonder he worried I would hate him; he knew how much I loved to move when we fucked.
But then I realized it also meant that he would have complete control over me, and my submissive little soul lit up with pleasure. If I’d been wet before, I was about to be completely soaked for him now.
He leaned down, kissing me, pressing my leg even closer to my chest, tightening the bond still more. His erection, hidden inside his jeans, pressed against my core. I squirmed against it, wanting him, needing him, but he chuckled and pulled back, and it left me wondering when our roles had reversed and I had become the impatient one.
“How’s that?” he asked, tying the rope off.
“It’d be a lot better if you were already inside me,” I grumbled, unable to stop myself.
Someone snorted in the audience, and while a few low chuckles rolled through the crowd, Nic got to work binding my other leg, jerking that one a little harder than the first. I gasped, and he grinned, securing it in place, and then his hands fell away, and I settled into the bond, finding it surprisingly comfortable. The ropes held the weight of my legs, so I wouldn’t have to strain to keep them aloft, and I could already imagine how good it would feel pressing against them as I moved. Plus, my hands were free, so I’d be able to—wait a second, where had those come from?
Nic dangled a pair of red wrist cuffs from a finger.
“Lift your arms overhead,” he said, moving out from between my legs.
I nearly whimpered at the loss of him, at the delay. I needed him inside me, now.
He went to the raised side of the chaise while I followed his order. It was then that I noticed a metal loop at the very top and realized he wanted me completely helpless. My mouth went dry. Him taking full control like this? Yes, Daddy.
His fingers were warm against the skin of my wrists as he bound them with the cuffs and then used the last piece of rope to tie them to the hook. Once done, he repositioned himself between my legs, looking down at me, admiring his handiwork his gaze lingering on where the ropes dug into my thighs. I could feel the heat rolling off him, see the need in his eyes. Oh, yeah, this was his favorite kink, all right. The sight of me bound like this was destroying him.
“Lo,” he said, deep, guttural. He placed his hands on the backs of my thighs, and I could feel them trembling. The man was about three seconds away from losing control, and he needed to know I was right there with him.
“Fuck me,” I begged. “Please.”
His hands left my legs. I felt a jerk, heard the sound of tearing, and realized he’d ripped the crotch of my panties. Moans and gasps sounded from the audience, but I could barely hear them over my pulse pounding in my ears. Nic spit into his hand, and I had no idea why the sight was so hot—maybe because he was too impatient to reach for the lube on a nearby shelf, or maybe because it wasn’t a “nice” thing to do. The longer I was with him, the more I realized that nice was overrated. His other hand went to his pants just long enough to free that big, beautiful dick, and then he was coating himself with his own saliva, fitting the head to my pussy, and shoving just inside.
I sucked in a breath, every muscle in my body tightening. Tied up like this, he felt huge, almost too big to fit, and as much as I wanted it hard and fast, I realized he was going to have to take his time to keep from hurting me.
So I gave up. I let my own wants and needs go, handed him all the power, and settled back against the chaise to enjoy the ride, my inner muscles loosening, making it easier for him to thrust deeper. He must have felt the change come over me, because his eyes lifted from where we were joined, and the look on his face was so raw, so full of need and devotion and possession that I fell in love with him all over again.
His hands landed back on my thighs, pushing down, stretching me even farther as he shunted his hips forward and fucked into me. The ropes tightened. My chest heaved as I sucked in a breath, and his gaze fell to my tits. I felt every glorious inch of him rubbing inside me as he pulled out. Another thrust, deeper this time. His jaw clenched, and I knew he was holding back, being careful, barely restraining himself. I loved it, because it showed how much he cared, how much he wanted this to be good for me, too.
My arousal eased his way, and with one last thrust, he bottomed out, pausing there, fingers digging into my thighs, breathing hard. Around us, the sound of others joining in echoed through the room, and I realized how good the acoustics onstage were, much better than out in the audience, every sigh and moan perfectly audible. It was fucking hot. Sex amplified, playing right into my ears.
Nic must have noticed, too, because he paused, his eyes locked on mine, and canted his head as if listening. A sly glance toward the crowd had his dick stiffening inside me, confirming that he liked being watched just as much as he liked tying me up. He and I were going to have so much fun performing together.
His gaze came back to mine, scorching, and I had just enough time to realize what was coming before his hold on me tightened and he thrust forward, hard and fast. All I could do was lie there, shifting my hips up to meet him and clenching my thighs around his waist as he started a steady rhythm. The ropes dug into me, not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough that I couldn’t forget that I was bound, restrained, at his mercy.
He leaned forward, bracing a hand on the chaise, his other gripping my hip, and, oh, god, that changed everything. Now he was hitting me right where I needed him, stroking a spot deep inside that made my eyes roll back in my head. His pelvic bone rubbed over my clit with every thrust as he tipped his head down just enough to tongue my nipple through the whisper-thin lace of my bra.
I met him stroke for stroke, reveling in every sensation, dragging the pleasure out for as long as possible instead of racing to the finish line. It was incredible, the ass shaking, titties bouncing, thighs clenching, toes curling, lip biting, stomach quivering, breath stealing, kind of fucking Nic did best, and suddenly I was jealous of everyone in the crowd for getting to watch him at work. If I’d thought ahead, I would have set a camera up somewhere so I could relive this moment over and over again for the rest of my life.
My pussy pulsed around him. I arched my back as much as I could, changing our angle so he slid even deeper. He pulled his lips from my breast, and I craned my head up. Looking down my body at him, seeing the ropes pulled taut on my thighs and his stomach flexing as he pistoned into me was so erotic that it made all the other scenes I’d watched pale in comparison. No wonder we had so many repeat performers at Velvet. The adrenaline of doing this was like a drug, and I flew higher and higher, never wanting the moment to end.
A moan hit my ears, and I finally turned my head, looking into the crowd. They were little more than abstract shapes at first, but as my eyes adjusted, I saw arms working, heads bobbing, even a full-on threesome in the back row, and the realization that Nic and I were the ones to put them in this frenzy pushed me over the edge, the orgasm I’d been holding off breaking through my defenses to slam into my body like a tidal surge breaching a dam. I cried out, shaking, shuddering, my muscles clenching as Nic continued to pound into me, drawing it out.
He came with a groan a heartbeat later, dick so rigid inside me that I knew he was riding the same high I was. Afterward, he half collapsed onto me, forehead resting between my breasts, lungs heaving against my bound thighs.
A cheer rose from the crowd, started by Taylor, and the scene ended the way it began: with love and laughter.
