I haven’t had a single bad experience at Alchemy. Not since Gen allowed Belle to bring me along as her emotional support friend for her first Unfurl session, and I skipped off happily into the carnal playground as Belle submitted to her own dark desires.
And definitely not since I joined the team and got my very own shiny gold membership card, thank you very much. It really is the perkiest of perks.
But some nights are pretty run of the mill, and some nights are special.
Like my first time there, when I got myself all tangled up with a few hot-as-fuck Italians.
Or the first time I had someone truss me up on the St Andrew’s cross. Now that was hot.
I know next week’s Slave Night will be special too. Alchemy will pull out all the stops to make it delicious and intoxicating and memorable.
Last night was up there. Not because I did anything out of the ordinary. I’ve unspooled myself across that ottoman probably half a dozen times. I love lying there, bent over and cuffed and waiting for someone to sample me. Usually it’s a feeding frenzy, and last night was no exception. Except that the guy who went down on me was fucking amazing.
Pascal touched me first. I saw him in The Playroom as soon as I got inside, and one of the hosts spread the word that he was looking for a few girls for him and his mates to enjoy.
I’m always up for that. Always up for being inspected, and prodded, and poked. That first moment when I’m lying there and someone shoves my dress up around my waist and exposes me for everyone to see and begins to touch me like I’m theirs, like I’m an anonymous plaything, there purely for their entertainment is always magic.
Pure magic.
Pascal had a little feel. He tends to do that. He likes to have his fingers in every pie, as it were. But then I heard him laughingly pass me off to someone, and it was one of the rare times I would’ve liked to be able to see who it was, because I’d put money on this guy never having gone down on me before.
You’d be surprised—or maybe you wouldn’t—at how many men grab a condom and go straight in. They see a hole and they plug it with their dick. Firstly, this guy didn’t do that at all, which flummoxed and infuriated me all at once. I heard the desperate, hungry, male sounds he made against my pussy as he ate me. It was pretty obvious he was getting himself off at the same time as he got me off.
But still. How was his hand better than me?
Secondly, something about his general demeanour felt very un-Alchemy-like. It’s not a place known for subtlety. For languor. For the unhurried art of seduction. I mean, I was bent over with everything on show, thanks to Pascal’s handiwork with my dress. I was a sitting duck. That’s the whole point of Alchemy—it’s a sexual smorgasbord with an irresistible spread laid out for you. Nobody has to work for it.
And yet, this guy took his time. Not in a disinterested way, but in a sensual way. Like I wasn’t just a set of great pins and willing holes. Like he couldn’t get enough of me. Like he wanted to devour me. Not just my pussy, but my boobs and my hair and my legs and the skin of my upper back.
His entire demeanour was worshipful.
And that made him memorable.
Dammit. I really wish he’d fucked me. Thankfully, someone else did come up shortly after he’d left me there, a quivering, post-orgasmic mess in need of a good bang, and filled me up nicely. He gripped my hips really fucking hard and drove into me in a way I badly needed, delivering exactly the quick fuck my pussy required after Mr Lick ‘Em Slow had warmed me up so well.
I asked Ben, who was one of the hosts on duty last night and who came to uncuff me after Mr Quick Fuck, if he’d seen who the first guy was.
He hadn’t.
Oh well.
Plenty more fish in the sea.
It doesn’t really matter, anyway. No point in wasting a single lingering thought on a guy who couldn’t be bothered to finish the job. All that matters is that my body got what it needed last night, I was sober and asleep by midnight, and I feel well used but well rested this morning. Hence I’ve made it into work twenty minutes earlier than usual.
I sit on the edge of Cal’s desk, swinging my leg. I’m wearing skintight jeans and a sleeveless black polo neck that’s sleek enough to offset the casual vibe of the jeans. Also burgundy suede stilettos. Just because.
I’m still amped up over last night, so I’m annoying Cal by peppering him with questions.
‘Are you volunteering as a slave?’ I ask. I really like Cal. He gets it, and he humours me. He’s not prissy or judgemental, like some people around here. He’s the only one of the four founders I really open up to. Rafe’s my best friend’s boyfriend, so it would be creepy of me to get too close. Gen’s lovely but a master at deflection, so I end up vomiting out all my darkest thoughts and getting little back from her aside from her trademark sound advice, and Zach…
Zach is Zach. Obviously.
Which means Cal has to bear the brunt of me. In the office, anyway.
‘Nope.’ He grins and takes a sip of his coffee. He’s made himself an enormous Americano, and he’s cuddling the mug with both hands like it’s his best friend. It’s sweet. And he’s cute. He’s looking gorgeous today in a crisp white shirt and jeans. He’s fun, he’s uninhibited, and he has a very big dick that he’s not afraid to use.
It’s a shame neither of us can actually be bothered to take it further. And why would we, when we have an entire stable of would-be fucks down the corridor most nights?
‘Why not?’ I demand. ‘You’ll look hot in some little leather Y-fronts.’
He rolls his eyes. ‘Not my kink. I’ll be bidding. I’d much rather be the one doing the bossing around than doing someone else’s bidding.’
‘Makes sense,’ I concede. I mean, I get it. He has the opposite kink to me, which is why we had such hot sex that first time, because he totally bossed me around. He was a very hot, very domineering priest, if I recall correctly. I shiver with pleasure.
‘What?’ he asks.
‘Nothing.’ I shrug and go to take a sip of my tea, but it’s cooled down just enough to make me feel icky. I reluctantly abandon it on Cal’s desk. ‘I was just remembering that you made a good little priest-slash-Dom.’
He grins. ’There’s nothing little about me.’
I pout in a way I know looks adorable. ‘Fair. Still, it’s a shame. I bet you’d raise a lot of money if you put yourself up for it.’
‘I’ll bid a lot of money,’ he corrects me.
‘Are you going to bid on me?’ I ask coquettishly, because with Callum it’s just banter. ‘I’m wondering whether to go for the virginal look on the night. Get the bidders excited.’
He snorts. ‘Mads, anyone who bids for you thinking you’re a virgin is going to be demanding their money back pretty fucking quickly.’
I open my mouth in mock horror. ‘Rude.’ Also, you know, true.
‘You do you,’ he says. ‘And no, I think I’ll bid on someone I haven’t already fucked for free.’
We’re making childish faces at each other when Zach comes in with Norm, as usual, trailing faithfully behind him. Norm has a filthy tennis ball in his mouth, while Zach has a lightweight navy v-neck sweater on over a deep blue shirt. The strap of his leather man-bag is slung across his body. He looks nerdy, and conservative as hell, and annoyingly hot.
And absolutely fucking appalled.
He stops dead in the archway between the meeting room and the office when he sees me and shoots me a look of utter horror. His hand goes to rake through his luscious dark hair as he stares at me.
‘What?’ I ask, confronted.
‘You all right, mate?’ Cal asks him, less rudely. Which is easy for Cal to do because he’s not the one withering under this guy’s death-stare.
It’s Cal’s voice, not mine, that lulls Zach out of his stupor.
‘I’m fine,’ he says, and, regaining the use of his legs once again, strides off towards his desk at the back of the room. I reach down and try to pet Norm as he plods past, but he trundles out of my reach with uncharacteristic agility.
Looks like he’s Team Zach today.
Cal and I make confused faces at each other.
‘Weird,’ I mouth. He shrugs, and I know his loyalty lies with Zach, too. Which it should.
The Hot but Weird Nerd has kind of put a dampener on my and Cal’s harmless banter, but we continue to discuss Slave Night for a few more minutes, namely the number of sign-ups we’ve had so far and my plans to drop teasers on social over the next seven days.
According to Cal, I’d be surprised how many more membership requests we get on the back of events like this that pique widespread interest, even if the interested parties have zero chance of getting their application processed in time for next Friday.
I’ve clambered off Cal’s desk and am stretching when Zach steals up behind me.
‘Um.’ He clears his throat. ‘Guys—anyone need a refill?’
‘All good, thanks mate,’ Cal tells him.
Zach glances down at my two-thirds-empty mug of tea. ‘You still going with that?’
‘Nope.’ I pick it up and hold it out to him. ‘It’s dead. I’d kill for a fresh cup, thanks.’
He accepts it and stares into its depths. ‘There’s loads left.’
‘But it’s gone tepid,’ I explain, like he’s an idiot. ‘ And I can’t drink tepid milky tea. It makes me want to barf. Herbal tea, fine, but tea with any kind of milk in it has to be hot. And I know this is weird, but even if it’s hot, I can’t drink all the way to the bottom of the mug. The dregs make me gag.’
I’m rambling, but he’s looking between me and my mug with the weirdest expression, and it’s making me nervous. I honestly think the poor guy has lost the plot. He looks up at me as though he’s seen a ghost, and I’m equal parts freaked out, hypnotised by the spectacular, improbable blue of his eyes behind those Clark Kent glasses, and pissed off at the unfairness of lashes that dark and thick and long being wasted on a guy.
I raise my eyebrows at him. ‘I can feel the silent judgement literally radiating from you,’ I tell him.
He blinks. ‘No. It’s not that. I—um. My wife was exactly the same. She used to leave half-drunk mugs of tea all over the fucking house. Drove me insane.’
‘Oh my God,’ I whisper. I press my palm to my heart. ‘I had no idea. I’m so sorry.’
‘Nothing to apologise for,’ he says in a clipped manner. ‘Just took me by surprise, that’s all.’
‘Okay then.’ I slide off the desk. ‘Well, thanks.’
I swear I feel his eyes fixed to my arse as I stroll back to my desk, humming Movie in my Mind as I go.
