**this is what happened between Perchance 2 and 3….why Tony and Kayla never managed to “hook up” on New Year’s Eve at the BDSM club…..
He wanted her. He knew she wanted him. Her gaze, a challenge. Her idly swinging foot amused him, as he could see how hard she was working at her nonchalance. He could see the pulse beating wildly in her throat, nearly in time to the throbbing beat of the rock music beating its way towards the New Year.
She stared at him. Dear gawd, he was handsome. She could see he was completely confident. In a boardroom, or here in the noisy club with all the writhing bodies, he was composed. The half-smile on his face could have been a smirk, yet on him, not. He drew her in. And it gave her the willies.
He imagined fucking her. Her tits bouncing under his hands as he drove into her hot and wet cunt. Oh, he had no doubt she’d be a tigress in bed, one that he’d have his hands full of. One that would be full of his cock, too. He grinned at her, teeth flashing, imagining her response at his fantasies.
Her gaze wavered under that smile. He wanted her. He would dominate and control her. She had never felt the need to submit so completely before, even with Rubierto. He had been too wishy-washy, to effeminate, she could say that now. He had not attempted to boss her, and frankly if he had, she would’ve stomped all over him. Not this guy, taj’s dom friend. Still, and it would behoove her to remember, he was wearing taj’s pussy juice on those fingers, at least the ones taj had missed when he’d made her clean them in the middle of the dance floor. She looked down at her feet, jiggled her toes.
He wondered at her sudden capitulation. He began to move up to the bar, planning to talk to her from very close. As his leg came up to her jiggling foot, he felt a hand grab his arm.
“M A S T E R!!!!” He groaned, mentally. Oh. Fuck.
The giggling blonde was obviously well on her way to being totally shit faced, he concluded, as she clutched his sleeve as much to keep upright as to greet him.
“Hello, slut” he said to her, his voice hard, his gaze harder.
“Ooooh, are you mad at me for beeeen’ a teeeensy weeensie bit …” he winced as she giggled again, high-pitched ” drunk?”
“You are far more than a teensy bit drunk, slut, and in no condition to be driving”. This, as he observed her keys in her hand. “Where are you going?”
“Oh, my NEW Master” she winked, attempting coyness, at him, “he wants me home, like now. I’m supposed to be computer chatting but i did tell him i wanted to check out the party here, and i kinda um…” she trailed off, obviously lost.
“So, you disobeyed your Master, a recurrent theme, i see, and he’s calling you to go home. Does he know how plowed you are?”
“nope,” more giggles. “we TEXTED” She hiccupped a bit, putting her pink gloved hand up to cover her pink-slicked mouth. “oops, ‘scuse me”.
Frustrated, he ran his hand through his hair. Damn! He’d been…he sighed. Took Pinkey’s keys from her, and scooped his arm around her.
“I’m driving.” His tone brooked no arguments from the pink clad slut reeling before him. He guided her outside into the night, the pulsing of the band following them out. He glanced at the stars that still twinkled merrily.
“Happy fucking New Year,” he muttered up at them, as he all but shoved the drunk girl into her car. Be damned if she’d ralph in his Lexus!