Page 21 of Heartless Lord
Grunts.
The slap of bodies grinding against each other.
“Fuck,” I muttered.
“That’s right, sweetheart.” Cordelia’s guy spun around and a wolfish smile peeled back the corners of his lips. “You can join us while you wait for Mac if you’d like.”
My eyes darted to my roommate’s for help, but a slow smile spread her lips. “Yeah, I’d be okay with that,” she slurred. “What do you think?”
“Umm... I think I’ll just wait for Mac here.” I leaned against a silky curtained wall, taking in the wild scene. Theorgy. That was the only word for it.
A masked girl was on all fours on a crushed velvet settee, her mouth around some guy’s cock while another dude took her from behind. More groans filled the air, and heat raced between my own legs.
“You sure?” Cordelia asked. “I don’t want to leave you alone down here.”
“Yes, definitely. I’ll be totally fine.” Having a drunken threesome with my roommate was not on the top of my list of priorities for my first week at Stonewall.
She squeezed my hand and ran her tongue across her pouty lower lip. “Okay, we’ll meet up later then. Text me!” The guy tugged her behind a curtain, and the pair disappeared into the sea of moans.
I leaned against the wall, unable to keep my gaze focused. Stretches of ripped, naked bodies sprawled in every direction. Damn, some of these guys were gorgeous and the girls... Perfect. Breasts bouncing, muscled male asses clenching, cocks fully out on display. My breaths became more ragged every minute I waited, watching the show. The frothy champagne bubbles made my head spin, loosening my body and erasing my inhibitions.
What was in that drink?
Damn, it had been too long since I’d gotten any. That had to be it. Where was that Mac guy anyway?
Maybe an anonymous hook up was just what I needed tonight.
CHAPTER 7
MY VERY OWN DOLL
Killian
I left the masquerade party and took the narrow stairs to the basement two at a time, almost slipping on the last step. Maybe I’d had one too many shots of tequila, or maybe the alcohol had popped the cork on my fury.
A grim smile split my lips. Liquor did have the uncanny ability to turn some people into raging, abusive assholes.
As I stormed into the VIP lounge, hanging globes and fairy lights spilled a soft, dreamy glow over the ostentatious crimson and gold decor while fog pumped through vents near the floor. Ivy-wrapped shiny poles and silk drapes created archways.
But all the whimsical fantasy elements couldn’t mask the true debauchery held within these walls.
This underground room was much more than a secret hangout for the elite, and the reason someone manned the door all night. If the wrong person wandered down here, shit could hit the fan. So imagine my surprise when I found the door to the stairs unguarded.
My fists clenched. Charlie Dunlap was a dead man for leaving his post.
People relaxed on leather couches, sipping drinks or hooking up as sultry music drifted through the speakers as I entered. The Sigma Delta guys wore black suits while the women donned scandalous, flashy dresses that drew our attention like flies to honey.
Masks covered everyone’s faces, a mandatory element for the party above, but something you might find any time in the VIP area for anonymity or pure fun.
A girl straddled a frat brother’s lap, riding his dick. Plenty of people were already fucking, but the real depraved shit occurred in the rooms down the long hall on the left.
I strolled across the main room toward the bar where gold curtains lined the wall. When I yanked the fabric aside, the window into a small room revealed another scene of lust and sin. A guy screwed a woman bound in leather restraints while another male watched, waiting his turn.
Both were frat brothers, but neither was Charlie.
I moved to the next window where a girl, her hands bound behind her back, kneeled in front of a guy lashing her with a leather whip. A look of sheer ecstasy stretched across her face as she pleaded for more.
Where the hell was Charlie?
