Page 3 of Sweet Torture (Torture Games #1)

The striking red dress is not as tight as my companion's clothing but still hugs her shapely body; you still get the sense of her luscious lines begging to be acknowledged. To be touched by the feathery soft glide of aching fingertips searching for the insistent pulse of desire.

She’s wearing almost no jewelry except an extra-long chain that disappears below her plunging neckline to fall between her full, rounded breasts.

For some, she would seem ordinary from afar.

However, standing right next to her exposes me to her immense self-confidence.

It seeps from every pore like an intoxicating perfume hue that assaults your sense of smell. Her delectable, sweet scent brings forth notes of vanilla, deliciously wild desire, and unobtainable lust.

She casually folds her arms and places her hand under her chin as she awaits an answer .

My date is speechless for once.

Lost in her calm composure, I turn slightly to address the issue at hand.

"Most people regard successful artists as self-entitled and would expect them to be marketing their work in any way possible. Especially since he has gained such unwarranted popularity, if I understand it correctly." I stare at her directly, arms still folded.

I always need to be the most intimidating person in the room.

Knowing I am in control of the situation keeps me sane.

However, her belittling air makes that difficult for me.

Therefore, I add just a little jab.

"If I am not mistaken, a nymphomaniac is a woman, while a satyriasis is a male. I think, in general, they are all just called sex addicts." I turn fully to her with some arrogance, waiting to see if she dares contradict me.

A hint of a smile tugs on her mouth corners, and I was not expecting to be as disarmed by her casual question.

"What do you think of the art then, in your humble opinion?"

She bites off the last words.

I can hear the sting in them.

I can see that she finds me arrogant, but what do I care? I barely know this woman.

Besides, she gives me the same feeling I get when I need to head up a contentious negotiation for a new contract.

There is a lot of adrenaline mixed with aggression and a sense of proving myself. As always, I take full command of the situation.

"I would assume he is so popular because traditionally, women are objectified as sex objects more than men.

Judging by his work, both seem to carry the same weight.

He might be embracing a new outlook on sex.

Maybe he has other preferences if he finds all these things equally important enough to create these images.

And that, of course," I bite out the words in the same way she did, poignantly gesturing to the other patrons, "plays right into the leading paradigm of our time.

Essentially, he is just bowing down to the next trend in line to capitalize. "

She lifts her chin towards me. I am surprised to find a bright purple lock of hair whipping forward.

That was entirely unexpected. It looks like an arrow that points directly to her slightly moist scarlet lips below her delicate black lace mask.

The glare coming from her eyes could melt a lesser man.

But I feel the thrill of confrontation running down my spine.

I can't keep my gaze from roaming her luscious lips, even though they are now tightly pinched.

I feel a subtle twitch in my cock.

What must those lips feel like on any body part, especially around my cock ?

For fuck's sake. I barely know this woman, and here I am, having these indecent thoughts about her mere seconds after meeting her.

Not to mention that I am inches away from my so-called date.

She knows. The vision before me knows what she is doing to me. I can see it in her eyes.

"I would say women can appreciate both male and female bodies. Aren't they the ones who normally buy art to adorn their homes?" She coyly baits me.

Looking at it from a business perspective is much more familiar, especially if I want to form a valid opinion.

Since this woman is robbing me of common sense, I must tread carefully.

We are facing each other like opposing warriors, and it takes every ounce of self-control not to reach out and tuck the purple strand of hair behind her ear.

"You would presume it would be mostly women buying the paintings since you are a woman yourself.

However, it would be the man paying for it, and if he were anything like me, he would want value for money.

That is why I can only assume he would be more inclined to buy a naked woman painting than this. .."

I turn to the painting again and cannot describe what I see without being downright crude.

It looks like a woman in various shades of dark brooding colors, obviously on a lower level to accommodate the strong line of an erection as it enters her mouth .

Although abstract, the colors mix and swirl, creating an impression of motion or intense thrusting.

I have never seen it so openly presented.

When I realize what I am looking at, I feel electricity crawl down my spine toward my already swollen head.

Of course, this is the exact moment my date decides to chime in.

"It looks like she is giving a blow job," Viper says.

I turn to see a flash of a smile appear in the corner of the purple-streaked vixen's mouth before she fixes her intimidating stare on me again.

"And that is something a man would not want to look at? Never mind buy."

The note of victory in her tone doesn't go unnoticed. I am at a loss for words, but will not back down, even if I need to play dirty.

I point to the painting with uncouth abandon.

"What man wants to be reminded constantly of something that he can't get immediately or even regularly, for that matter?" I challenge her with my eyes because we have wandered far off-topic. We both know it.

Without wavering, she replies.

"Ever heard of delayed gratification?" She gently swipes her finger in the corner of her mouth, knowing what it must do to a man, considering the topic of our conversation .

"Do you honestly expect a man to sit and daydream about something as common as a blow job?"

I know my words are crass, but at this point, I don't give a single shit anymore. Her smile is openly mocking me.

The vixen casually folds her arms under her ample breasts, winks, and speaks.

"I guess that depends entirely on the blow job."

Before I can even think of gathering myself, another woman appears out of nowhere and whispers discreetly in her ear. She drops her hand from her chin for the first time.

I catch another glimpse of how delicious her breasts really are. Her nipples look to be pebbled and hard under the flowing material of her outfit. They are practically begging for my tongue to envelop them with warmth.

I force my groan back just in time. Could she be as turned on by our conversation as I am?

"I'm going to go powder my nose. Hopefully, we can resume our date when I get back," Viper says before walking briskly in the bathroom's direction.

"Your girlfriend is upset." She chews on her bottom lip.

I tear my eyes away from Viper's rigid back to regard the voluptuous creature before me.

"She is more of a new acquaintance, really. This occasion is the first and last time we meet, but yes, she does seem upset."

"Want a hand with that?"

She holds out her hand to me, and I take it without hesitation.

She leads us to the back of the gallery in a brisk walk, which is darker and quieter. We round a corner, and I feel her hands press into my chest and force me up against a rough brick wall.

"What are you doing?" I demand.

She starts unbuttoning my shirt, and her hands roam over my skin.

"Whatever I want. Tell me now if you don't want this," – she starts unbuckling my belt – "before it's too late."

I only find my voice when a growl escapes me as her hand curves around my hardness.

"I knew you would be big. Tell me, is this for me?" – she starts stroking vigorously – "or for your date?"

I bite my bottom lip to keep from calling out when she spits on my tip.

"Doesn't matter. Last chance. Do I stop right now, or can you give me what I want?"

I groan the words out when I feel her make twisting movements on my aching dick.

"Of course I can. Just tell me what that is," I say.

My hands find their own way to her ass and yank her closer. I need to feel her lips. It is the only way to convince myself that this is real.

Her mouth is willing and warm, while her tongue is playfully licking my top lip .

"You taste so good. I need more," I say.

Her smile is captivating and draws me in deeper.

"Not tonight." She produces a condom from somewhere. "I need you inside me."

I go to pull the mask from my face.

"No. Keep it on."

I react instantly to her directive. My hands return to her body after she rolls the condom in place and turns her back to me. She takes my hands and places them on her heaving breasts. I squeeze until I hear her gasp, and only then do I find her wanting nipple and roll it between my fingers.

I roll it until I hear her moan and wish it were my name that fell from her lips.

"Take me from behind. I want it rough and hard. Oh, and stranger," – she hikes up her dress around her waist and moves her underwear to the side – "better make it good," she demands.

I snake my fingers closer to her pussy and feel her gushing when slide my fingers into her folds.

"I am always good, baby. Just you wait and see."

She presses my hard cock to her opening and slides it in. Her needy moan reverberates off the dark walls. I give her a second to adjust to my size, and the whining tone in her voice is telling.

"Move, I need to come," she urges .

I spin us around, and my body presses against hers. I place my vixen's hands on the wall.

"Hold on tight, baby. Tonight, you are going to soak my dick and love it."

I grab her by the hips and start thrusting slowly. The mewling noises coming from her set the punishing pace that takes me deeper and deeper with every demanding thrust.

A sharp intake of breath shows she is as close as I am. A tingling sensation races up and down my spine, infusing me with warmth that spreads weightlessness to my every extremity.

I feel her pussy clench around my dick, and it forces my last thread of self-control to snap.

Gripping her hips brutally, I thrust deeper until my balls slap against her ass and empty myself into the condom.

I continue to thrust, allowing her to ride out the orgasm until she halts me with a hand on my arm.

Light-headed and out of breath, I gently remove myself from her and help her pull her dress down before I rip off the condom and tuck myself back in.

"Thank you, that was quite fun," she says while tucking her hair back.

"It wasn't the blow job you promised before."

I can't help myself. Lightening the mood feels right.

The smolder in her eyes negates this. "You haven't earned it."

She simply turns and walks away .

I fix my clothes, adjust the stupid mask again, and march to the hostess for a business card.

Tonight, I’ll drop my date off and give an acceptable excuse while thinking about another woman with a mocking smile and intimidating attitude.

Tomorrow, I’ll save my ass that was handed to me on a desirable silver platter.