I don’t keep her waiting. I slip from the gala without a word, finding her waiting with Micha, “Get one of the guys to collect the car,” I tell him, “And take us to Crimson.”
He smirks, sends off the message and starts the car.
“We’re going to Crimson?” She asks.
“I told you we were going to play, love,” I pull her towards me and land a kiss on her mouth, tasting the sweetness of the champagne on her tongue. “So, play is what we’re going to do.”
“Are there, uh,” she breathes against my lips, “are there other people there tonight?”
“It’s not open night, but there are a few, no one will bother us.”
She nods slowly, nervously, “We don’t have to, love,” I brush a strand of hair from her face.
“No, I want to.”
“Good girl.”
_
It’s not the usual scene at Crimson, tonight is more intimate, not as crowded or loud. We look out of place in the formal wear we still have on, but no one really turns our way, too caught up in whatever it is they are discussing or doing with their partners for the evening.
Micha disappears into the crowd to find himself his own entertainment while I take Eleanor towards the stairs. Her dress flows behind her, the splits open to show me all that creamy skin on her thighs and my mouth waters with the anticipation of sinking my teeth into that soft flesh.
Her cheeks are flushed, her eyes bright and her fingers hold my hand tightly.
I stop us outside a door knowing what was waiting inside, it’s there I press her up against the wall and claim her mouth once more, sweeping my tongue through to work her up. She grips the lapels of my jacket, pulling me closer, curving her spine until her breasts press on my chest.
“You told me this was something that you wanted to try,” I whisper, “but at any point, we can stop, okay?”
“What is it?” She murmurs.
“Come on.”
I guide her into the room. It’s dimly lit by the lanterns on the walls and warm, but it isn’t the bed or the lights or the silk sheets, it’s the man that sits at the end of the bed that has her eyes widening.
This isn’t something new. We’ve done this before once or twice, and if there were anyone I’d trust to do this, it would be him.
“Ace?” She squeaks.
He grins and quirks a brow but doesn’t say anything or move. This is her call, not mine, not his. It’s all well and good fantasizing or desiring, it’s a whole different story to actually do it. I’m giving her the option for it, and she can leave it should she wish to.
And if she chooses to do it, it’s at her pace.
“Is this?” She stutters, “are you?”
“Yes, love,” I whisper to her, “but it’s up to you.”
I run my hand down her face, over her throat, stopping at the hammering pulse point that beats against my fingers. Her breathing is chaotic, but she doesn’t appear afraid. Curious.
“I don’t know how,” she breathes.
“We’ll show you,” I confirm, “do you want this?” My hand continues down her body, fingers trailing over the mounds of her breasts, her nipples straining at the material. No bra. Good.
Ace watches her with barely restrained lust.
It makes me want to kill him, and yet I understand. And I know it’s all it is. Lust.
He stands slowly, cautiously and comes towards Eleanor as I back behind her, pressing her to my chest, and then he stops, staring down at Eleanor.
“You want this?” I whisper again.
“Yes,” she breathes.