Seven Nights of Sin - Lacey Alexander [90]
And she realized that it was impossible not to start feeling more aroused with each passing second. For everywhere her eyes fell, something sensuous took place.
In the pool nearest her, a naked woman with a perfect hourglass body floated on her back while a nude man began to lick between her legs. A shapely woman in a toga emerged up the pool’s steps, water sluicing off her dress to leave her ample breasts clearly visible, and her ass, as well, through the thin fabric. She lay down upon an empty bed, then motioned toward a toga-wearing man who stood nearby holding a tray of grapes. He went to her, dangling a clump of purple grapes just above her mouth, allowing her to bite one off.
In the room’s center, the lovely blonde now positioned herself on her hands and knees on a plush divan as one man’s cock entered her from behind and the other fucked her mouth. Brenna had never seen anything like it.
And although Roman-esque music could be heard—making her imagine a few of Caligula’s subjects off playing lyres and lutes in some distant corner of the room—the melody was punctuated with the sounds of sex: moans, sighs, labored breath.
Brenna was—slowly—becoming more fascinated than stunned.
She leaned back to ask Damon, “How does this work? What are the rules?”
She turned to see a scolding grin. “I guess you didn’t read what you signed.”
Well, not closely, no. She’d seen the part about confidentiality and grabbed up her “quill,” too uneasy to think very clearly. “Maybe not. So tell me.”
“You can just watch if you want—or fuck whoever you came with. But the people who work here will do whatever you like—feed you fruit, fool around with you, or fuck you if you ask.”
“Wow,” she said on an amazed sigh at the “feast” of choices here. Then she looked to Damon again. “How do you know the people who work here from the ones who don’t?”
“The armbands.” He pointed toward the guy still dropping grapes in the mouth of the woman who looked like she was competing in a wet toga contest. A gold metal band circled his forearm and, scanning the room, Brenna realized many people wore them. The woman whose pussy was being eaten in the pool, for instance. And all three of the lovers on the dais.
When Damon saw her gaze resting there, he said, “Only the employees fuck on the center stage. They take turns all night to keep everyone entertained.”
God, she thought—nonstop sex. All night long. What would it be like to work here? To fuck on that divan for a living? Up until this moment, she’d imagined every aspect of the sex trade as something dirty and debasing and undesirable, but for a split second, watching the woman being so thoroughly pleasured by two handsome Roman men with their muscular bodies and big, stiff cocks, Brenna thought maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.
“What about…diseases?” she couldn’t help asking.
“There are rubbers under every bed,” Damon informed her. “And brand-new sex toys, too.” As her eyes went wide, he added, “It’s kind of like a minibar in a hotel—whatever’s gone when you leave is added to your bill.”
Unable to resist the temptation, Brenna leaned over the edge of the bed and pulled back the white covering. Indeed, beside a shallow bowl of condoms lay an amazing array of vibrators and other penis-shaped instruments—and a few things she didn’t even recognize!
“Like what you see?” he asked when she rose back up, probably looking dumbstruck.
She bit her lip and answered honestly. “I like what I’ve got up here a lot better.”
“Come here,” he said, then pulled her into a kiss. Around them, sensual notes from the lyre still wafted through the room and more moans and groans echoed, creating their own erotic symphony, but in that moment, all she could see was Damon. And when his hand rose to her breast, caressing her as his kisses dropped to her neck, she didn’t even care if anyone saw.
That quickly, somehow, she’d acclimated.
“Is this as horrible as you feared?” he whispered in her ear, his breath warm on her neck.
She found her gaze planted back on the threesome