Bender (Vegas Venom Book 4)

Everything about the night has been perfect so far: the meal, the conversation, the walk past the Bellagio fountains, even the way Marco’s hand fits in mine. As if I can’t control it, my gaze keeps sweeping over his body as chemistry sizzles between us. It’s like something out of a movie.

For a moment, right when we were finishing dinner, I thought Marco was going to pull the old ‘I bought you a nice dinner so now you owe me a BJ’ card, but I think Anders was right. Marco’s English is dubious, but his intentions don’t seem to be. He has an endearing attention to detail that indicates he just wants to please me.

And to be honest, I won’t mind a little grinding, provided that it doesn’t feel like I’m paying off a perceived debt. As somewhat of a free spirit, I enjoy pleasurable things for the sake of them. But when I’m pressured, the spontaneity wanes and I’m just left feeling empty.

My mind wanders in a decidedly spicy direction when Marco stops in front of a plain concrete building. “We are here!”

I stare up at the blank, windowless walls, without signage or neon lights or any of the usual hallmarks of a club.

“Are you sure this is it?” I ask, pressing my lips together. “I don’t hear any music.”

Marco holds out his phone so that I can see the directions, which reveals the name of the club on his map: the club is called Ball and Chain.

Oh. My. God.

Marco Rossi has brought me to a kink club for our first date.

“Marco,” I say in my most reasonable voice, “where exactly did you hear about this club?” I wouldn’t put it past his friends to mess with him by extolling the virtues of this place as a prank. “And if you say, Latham Newberry, I’m calling my brother.”

Marco beams at me, utterly pleased with himself. “I am coming out of Caesar’s Palace, and I am seeing this beautiful brochure. It says that this club has many good things to entertain adults! And we are adults who want to be entertained. It says it is classy, like us. Says it is an adventure. With that in mind, it is perfect.”

Heaven help me, he seems genuinely clueless. “And you believed a brochure?”

Marco’s eyes bounce from the building to my face and back. “Something is wrong.”

“Oh, sweetie.” I pat his arm. “Never trust the literature you get handed on Las Vegas Boulevard. This is a BDSM club.”

“What is bee-dee…?” Marco begins.

“It’s a sex club,” I blurt. “For people who are into specific kinks. Impact play, restraints, that kind of thing?”

Marco’s mouth falls open, and he glances at the screen on his phone again. “Oh. Oh, non. Oh, Dio. Silas McKay will pound me into the ground like a tree stump. I am not knowing this before, I promise…”

“Yeah, I gathered that.” When I see the gamut of tragic expressions flicker across his handsome face like a movie reel, I start giggling and can’t seem to stop.

“Non!” Marco wails. “I am so sorry, Madison, this is not what I am thinking. I only wanted to grind on the dancing floor. Not grind… you know. I would never disrespect you in this way. Per favore, you must understand…”

The more I laugh, the funnier this seems. I feel terrible for Marco, and I want to reassure him that I understand the mistake, but this is too good. It’s like something out of a romance novel. The five-chili-pepper kind.

“If Silas knew…” I start, and then I bust up all over again. I can’t wait to tell Sienna about this. And possibly Phoebe. Phoebe would be down for a little peek inside. Not that I want to think of her here with my brother doing things.

“There is nothing to tell!” Marco insists. “I am a fool. Confused. We can go back to Velvet, in the Armónico. Or I will take you home.” The poor guy looks like he’s about to get even more emotional. “Not that I want to take you home.”

I wipe my eyes as I straighten up. “You want to leave? No, Marco, come on. We’re here. We’re adults. Classy adults. Let’s at least go in and check it out.”

“In?” Marco recoils. “Non, that is a bad idea. Let us make like a dick and hard.”

That gets me going all over again. I’m not imagining his dick. Hard. His hard dick. I’m really not. Between bursts of laughter, because I am so fantasizing about it, I manage to say, “I think you mean, make like a dick and head.”

“Maybe.” Marco backs away from the building. “Cash Denaro confuses me with his speech. Could be cock and balls. Oh, that is what the ball is for!” He slaps his forehead, but then his palm drifts down to the bulge in his crotch. Which only makes my gaze follow and I’m not upset about what I’m seeing when I really take the time to look. “And the chain is for beating the balls with? No, that is not for me.”

“Nobody’s going to beat anyone’s balls. At least not without consent. And a proper, leather dominatrix outfit.” I snort as I remember our conversation at the fashion show. “Although, who knows, maybe we could put bush-beating back on the table?”

“I am already on the thinnest of glass, principessa.” Marco shakes his head and clutches his phone to his chest like a shield. “I am not trying to trick sex from you. I have nothing but admiration and value for you and of this, you must know.”

I raise one hand and lift my index finger toward the sky. “One, I think you mean thin ice.”

He gives his head a violent shake. “No, I am saying glass correctly. I am not afraid of ice. Now glass? It breaks. What a mess. And it cuts you.”

“Nobody’s getting cut, either.” I lift my middle finger as well. “And two, you’re not tricking me. This was a mistake, right? But now we’re both on the same page, and I’m telling you, I want to go inside.”

Marco gulps. “You do?”

“I want to go inside,” I repeat for emphasis, “and not just because I’m curious about it. I want to go inside with you.”

He squeaks and leans toward me as if drawn by some sort of magnet. “I am wanting to go inside with you, too,” he murmurs, never taking his eyes off my mouth. “Even though I make a big, big mistake.”

“Great, then it’s decided.” I hoist my purse higher on my shoulder and walk him toward the door. “And, Marco? An adventure undertaken by two consenting adults is never a mistake.”

* * *

I’ve never been to a kink club before, but I like to think that I’m in the yes, anding phase of my life where I’m down to try new things just for the sake of the experience. I’m sex-positive, and I wouldn’t want to yuck anyone’s yum, provided that all parties are down for whatever happens. I’m also curious and willing to step outside of my comfort zone, especially if it’s going to make me feel good. And judging from Marco’s reaction so far, he’s not the kind of dude who would try to make me feel bad about myself afterward. I remember hearing somewhere that Europeans are much more open about their sexuality.

According to the woman at the front desk, everything about this place is consensual. We get the run-down on a list of rules: if we touch anyone without permission, we’ll be asked to leave. If we make unsolicited, suggestive, or rude comments to anyone, we’ll get the boot. We can either find an open play room with all the trappings and equipment and put on a show, or we can find a free side-room and watch one of the scenes in private through the two-way glass. We can deadbolt the door, or not, our choice.

Basically, anything goes as long as it’s respectful and everyone involved is on board.

“You have the option of removing your masks if you’d like,” she explains as she hands over ours which look like the ones people wear when they attend masquerade balls. “But you’re not under any obligation to do so. Cleanup rules are posted in the individual rooms, and if you have any questions, our dungeon staff will be happy to help answer them. No question is bad or dumb. We get a lot of first-timers here, so there’s no need to be embarrassed.”

“I am having so many questions,” Marco murmurs.

“And we can talk about those inside,” I promise. I’m not sure this woman is prepared for the Italian inquisition. “Thanks for the help!”

I take Marco’s hand, and only then do I realize that he’s sweating.

“Are you that uncomfortable?” I ask as we make our way into the dungeon.

“This is not my normal,” he confesses, making a sweeping gesture with his hand. The man has gorgeous hands. Big and powerful. Suppressing a shiver, I imagine them all over me. Holding me with purpose much like he might do with his stick.

I squeeze his fingers. “If I pushed too hard to be here, we can leave. Consent goes both ways. I’d never want you to feel pressured by me for any reason to do something that makes you uncomfortable.”

“No, I am ready for something new. With you.” He squeezes back. Under other circumstances, that confession would be sweet. Given the setting, however, it takes on a spicy note. I’m glad I get to be his first kink partner and he gets to be mine. It’s not lost on me that even though this is technically our first date, we’re creating a core memory together.

When I think about what we might do before we leave this place, my heart gets so swollen it puts pressure on every other organ in my body.

Maybe we’ll get around to grinding after all.

We’re not the only people in the dungeon who seem out of place, but it’s a weeknight, and it’s still early. Or maybe this is the normal time for people to show up at a sex club—I wouldn’t know. I cling to Marco’s hand as we explore, but I’m definitely taking more interest in our surroundings than he is. He keeps fidgeting, so I pull him into one of the rooms marked Private: Two-Way Mirror Access Only. I just want to see what this is about, and then we can go if he’s gonna be feeling this anxious about staying. I just wish I knew if his nervousness stemmed from the actual place and what’s going on inside, or because he thinks he’s disrespecting me in some way and my brother will be angry about it. From my perspective, all the pressure is off because it wasn’t really his idea to come here.

Within the room, there’s an array of equipment against one wall, a single chair, and a laminated set of instructions on dungeon etiquette.

“What is a two-way mirror?” Marco asks as I close the door behind us and slide the deadbolt into place. I have no desire for strangers to happen upon us and ask to join. “That is just glass, non?”

“It means that we can see out, but they can’t see in.” I point to the couple on the far side. “So we can see what they’re doing, but we have privacy.”

Marco frowns at the glass. “And they are doing what?”

“Well, that depends—” I turn to the glass and stop cold.

There are two people on the other side of the glass. A woman stands with her hands held over her head, attached to a large X-shaped structure. A St. Andrew’s Cross, I think they’re called. Her legs are spread, attached to ankle restraints on the bottom of the cross. Other than a blindfold, she’s completely naked. Her partner is still wearing one of the masks, like ours, and a pair of leather pants. He’s standing off to one side, whispering something in her ear as he uses a wand on her.

They don’t look like the kind of couples you’d see in porn. They’re both a little heavyset, and the man has a bit of a gut on him that folds over his waistband. At a guess, I’d say they’re both in their early forties. I find it amazing. Lovely even. Socially acceptable beauty standards mean nothing here. They’re intently focused on each other’s pleasure.

For pleasure’s sake.

And the woman is right in the middle of what appears to be a truly magnificent orgasm.

“They are having a great fucking time,” I say as every muscle in my body tightens like a bow string. Including all the ones between my legs.

“I think you mean,” Marco corrects, “that they are having a great time fucking.”

For once, he’s exactly right.

I can’t hear anything inside our private room, but I can feel the woman’s relief when she collapses back against the cross. Her chest and neck are flushed, and her small breasts are on full display. She’s pear-shaped, like me, although her figure is a bit less generous. I can’t even express to myself how liberating it feels to watch kink play with a woman who looks more like me than some rail-thin porn star with injected lips, fake boobs, hair extensions, and editing so generous not even she knows what she really looks like.

The kind of woman I assume a man like Marco Rossi would normally be seen in public with.

Instead, he’s here, trying something new.

With me.

Through the illusion of the glass, I can imagine exactly what she’s feeling right now, and it leaves me breathless. A rush of wetness surprises me, but not the pulse that takes up residence in my clit.

Marco lets out a huff of excitement as he watches me get excited by watching them. His eyes caress me, but he doesn’t come closer. At least not yet. “You like this, bellissima?”

“Apparently I’m a voyeur,” I murmur, completely entranced. “Who knew?”

The man has set the wand aside and traded it for a small whip. He uses it on his partner’s thighs, then drags its soft cords across her breasts. Judging by the way her nipples perk up, she likes it.

I’m suddenly much too warm. My palms flutter to my cheeks of their own accord as if to test the temperature. The low lighting ripples over Marco’s expression, casting him in shadows. His gaze burns so hot I feel like I’m being branded.

“You like to be seeing them. These strangers fucking.” Marco isn’t paying attention to the couple at all. Through his hooded lids, I wonder if he can see how hard my nipples are through my bra. My mouth is dry, and my breath hitches in my throat.

“We can go if you want.” I rub my thighs together as if that simple action will hold my sexual desire inside me. It feels like if I let it bust loose, it might not ever stop. And with my next strangled inhale, I know. I will always associate this feeling with Marco Rossi. The heat rolling off his big body in waves resembles an electrical current, popping and buzzing like a neon sign down on the Strip.

As I struggle to fill my lungs with the suddenly tepid air, he steps closer. So close I swear our souls are melding together. I yearn for him to swipe his fingertips along my fevered skin—to claim me before I explode. “You want to stay?”

I nod.

“Can I—” Marco clears his throat. “Can I touch you?”

“Yes,” I say, still nodding. “If you want to. I’m not sure about all that, though.” I wave to the wall behind me.

“None of that,” he says, his voice low, gritty, and about to shatter my remaining resolve. “Just my hands. I feel like I might die if I can’t touch you, bellissima.”

Marco steps around behind me, and I shiver. On the other side of the glass, the man has picked up the wand again and is teasing his way up his partner’s thighs. He kneels down in front of her and uses one hand to spread her open, revealing her wet folds for their little audience, almost as if he knows we’re in here… watching them all the while only wanting each other. At the same time, one of Marco’s hands slides up my thigh. I lean back against him, and when the curve of my ass presses against the bulge in his silk slacks, he groans.

“Madison,” he hisses. “You do the strange things to me. It is too much. And yet, it is not nearly enough.”

His breath is warm against the back of my neck. His free hand caresses my breasts through the fabric of my dress. As if they have a mind of their own, my hands flutter to my dress and pull the neckline down, taking the cups of my bra with it so I can grant him greater access. My nipples turn into ice picks. As the man in the next room licks his partner’s clit, Marco’s fingers slip into my panties to caress mine.

“So wet, cara mia,” he groans, sinking his fingers into me as he exhales sharply against the nape of my neck. “Ah, it is strepitosa. And all for me.”

“Oh, fuck.” I brace my hands against the wall below the window as he strokes and caresses me. He’s perfection. As I arch into him, I realize it’s like we’ve done this before in another life. He’s using the exact amount of pressure and speed to set me off like a rocket. Usually, I need a decent amount of foreplay to warm up, but between the scene in front of us and Marco’s softly whispered words and bold caresses, I’m already halfway there.

“Tell me what you like, principessa,” Marco growls. “About what you see.”

“Um.” I roll my hips against him, caught between his hand and his cock. This is all happening so fast. I pant against the glass. The man in the next room is using the wand again, teasing his partner with his tongue. “I, um, it’s like I feel what she’s feeling.” I turn my head to one side to catch a glimpse of Marco’s profile. His eyes are heavy and lidded as he rolls his hips against me. “He’s going to make her come again, I’m sure, and—Oh!” Marco’s fingers thrust deep, while his thumb sweeps over my clit again and again. My eyes drift back to the woman, whose mouth is open. Her whole body shudders, and I can see how her thighs twitch as she comes a second time, even harder than before.

My body tenses, too, and Marco quickens his pace. His fingertips find a soft, sensitive place inside me that feels just as good as what his thumb is doing.

“You like watching her finish?” Marco purrs.

“Holy shit, don’t stop don’t stop don’t stooooooop!” I whimper, and all of a sudden, I fall apart, clamping down on his fingers and leaning against him for support as every muscle in my legs turns to jelly.

“Ah, cara mia.” Marco shivers, too. “Listen to you. Like the sweetest symphony.”

I’m so turned on, I feel drunk. Instead of satisfying me, that first orgasm has only made me hungry for more. My eyes are already closed again, my body lost to the sensations Marco so easily teased from it. I want to come again. I want to make him come too.

The man unclips his partner from the upright supports, and I think that perhaps they’re done, but instead, he leads her over to a bench, where he has her lie on her belly. The bench has an A-shape that keeps her thighs spread and puts her at just the right height for penetration. Marco is still touching me as if he knows I’m not even close to being done either, but fingers aren’t enough now. I imagine myself lying on that bench, spread out before Marco like a course of the meal we just shared. Inside the depths of my mind, he’s strong and rock hard and a little rough.

“Marco,” I purr, “do you want to fuck me like that?”

He breathes deep and presses his chest against my back until there’s no space between us, only the inconvenience of clothes. When I close my eyes, the sights and sensations of the dungeon blur into a single confused event. I am on that bench, baring myself to Marco, completely helpless while he decides what he wants to do to me. Does he want my mouth? Does he want to put his hands gently around my throat? Maybe a little swat on the ass? Does he want to fuck me hard and fast until he comes inside me? Or will he be content to make me come again and again until I’m a quivering, creamy wreck?

“You could do it right now,” I whisper, rubbing against him. “You could push my skirt up and my panties down. Would you like that?”

Marco is practically panting for breath as he holds me. “Would you?”

“Mmmhmm.” My voice isn’t working right.

He pulls away from me and tugs my hand, leading me over to the heavy chair in the middle of our private room. I squeal when he hoists me into the padded seat. Holy shit, I am sitting in a sex chair about to be devoured.

Marco looms over me as he braces his hands on either arm of the device and lowers his mouth to mine. It occurs to me only then that I’ve never kissed him before. I let a man finger me to the most explosive orgasm of my life before his lips ever touched mine. His mouth is smokey-sweet, like the wine from dinner, and his tongue slips between my lips to savor me the same way he savored his meal: carefully, thoughtfully, and with indulgence.

I moan into his mouth as my body seeks his. It’s by far the best kiss ever. It’s hard and soft and slick all at the same time as it creates chaos inside my body. It’s like I can’t get close enough even though the heat of it singes my insides. My hands grasp at his hair and then at his shirt, searching for anything to ground me so I don’t feel like my body is turning inside out. No matter what I do, there’s not enough pressure to satisfy me.

I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him closer, and he sighs against my lips.

“I want to see you,” I tell him when I finally pull away. “Let me see you.”

“Yes?” He nuzzles my cheek. “You want me putting on a show for you? You like to see?”

“We eat with our eyes first,” I remind him.

He laughs as he pulls away, then pops the button on his slacks and shimmies the zipper down. When his dick pops free, my eyes bulge.

“What,” I yelp, “is that?”

Marco reels back. “Have you never seen such a thing before?”

“No.” I sit up a little straighter, a bit mesmerized. “Not in person.”

“This is first? I am first?” Marco looks horrified.

I realize the disconnect. “It’s not the first penis I’ve seen, you goof. But that is not standard equipment.” I nod to the silver barbell on his junk, seated just under the tip.

“Oh, oh.” Marco relaxes. “Si, this.” He moves his hands aside, giving me a better view of his dick. It would be impressive enough without the jewelry.

“Yes,” I agree. “That.” I squirm with excitement, eager for his touch. I want him inside me right now. I want to know what that feels like.

Marco smiles and sinks to his knees in front of me before I can touch him. “You like what you are seeing, principessa?” He tugs my panties off and kisses along my inner thighs. “This makes me feel a certain kind of joy.”

While I was distracted, the couple in the other room got out a rabbit of some kind.

Marco’s eyes meet mine. “Open yourself for my tongue, bellissima. Show me how hot and wet I make you.”

I don’t break his stare as my hand slowly travels down my body to part my pussy lips to his hungry gaze. I’ve never been this bold in my life, but this man makes me feel like a goddess. As he inhales and smirks, he makes me wait, teasing me with nothing, until he gives me everything. After he dips his head, I first experience the gentle warmth of his breath. My pussy contracts and my clit throbs in a steady rhythm. My body begs him even before my words do. Just when Marco runs his tongue over my swollen nub, the man brushes the new toy against the woman’s inner thigh and she jerks.

I’ve heard of electro-play, but I’ve never seen it in action. Tonight is just full of firsts. As Marco hooks my knees over his shoulders and licks me more vigorously, I reach up to massage my half-covered breasts, plucking my own nipples into erect peaks.

“Marco, oh my God, please!” The words are hard to say through the whimpers that seem to have taken over as my body pitches and trembles.

Kissing Marco was great, but whatever he’s doing with his tongue is a cut above. I reach up to push the mask aside, but he shakes his head and pushes my hand away. Fair enough. Being seen here could be a problem for the morality clause in his contract with the Vegas Venom. Even though I trust that no one can see us, this will have to be enough for now.

The anonymous woman on the other side of the glass bucks and shivers under her partner’s ministrations. I’m feeling dizzy with pleasure again already, but as I watch, she twists around—as much as her restraints will allow—and says something to her partner. He sets the electric wand aside, unzips the front of his leather pants, and uses his hands to spread her open.

I cry out when he thrusts into her and let my eyes fall partway shut. I imagine Marco behind me, entering me, taking his time with me, filling me inch by inch with that huge dick until I can feel his piercing deep within me. The real Marco moans against my clit and uses his fingers again, in time with the rhythm of his lips and tongue.

The woman on the bench cries out. I’ve lost count of her orgasms—three? Four? I can see her mouth moving, and although I can’t hear what she’s saying, I run my fingers through Marco’s hair and tug.

“Come on,” I say. “I want you inside me.”

He pulls away and shakes his head. “Not yet, cara mia. Not tonight. Another time perhaps. Tonight I make a mistake, and I make up for it by pleasing you.”

Another time. He’s clearly turned on, so what’s the problem?

And then it clicks. It’s true. He wants to see me again more than he wants to get off right now. With that knowledge banging around inside my head, I lose myself to Marco and his lips and tongue all over again.

I soar. I fall.

Dropping my eyes from the couple, I focus on Marco’s big hazel eyes, where he looks up at me from the apex of my thighs. He makes a little sound, almost a hum, and awareness shoots right through me. Holding his gaze, I completely surrender to the sensations rioting through my body.

I let out a gust of breath that anoints the air between us almost like a benediction.

With his mouth and hands all over me, but even more importantly, his possessive gaze, I call his name as I come as hard as I ever have in my life.

* * *

“I feel kind of bad,” I admit as we pull up to my apartment building.

Marco’s shoulders slump. “Bad how?”

“Guilty,” I clarify. “I kind of dragged you into that club, and then you didn’t even get off. It makes me feel like a cocktease or something. Please say that you don’t hate me.”

“Ah.” Marco leans toward me, and his eyes sparkle as he presses a gentle kiss on my lips. Damn, he’s sexy. How did I not see that the moment he called me round? Like why did I, of all people, focus on the actual words and not the intent behind them? How did I ever doubt him? “This is nothing for me, principessa. Your needs come first always. I promise another time. I am still feeling guilty for my own.”

“Oh, no,” I deadpan. “How dare you take me out to a nice meal and then make me come twice? Who would want that on a first date? Best first date ever, by the way.”

“So you are agreeing that there must be a second date?” He waggles his eyebrows.

I tap my fingers against my mouth. “I don’t know how you’re going to top that one, but I can’t wait to find out. You’ve set the bar pretty high.”

He flaps a dismissive hand toward the windshield. “Then I just go under the bar. Like the game with a chicken song.”

“Limbo?” I pat his knee. “Okay. We’ll give that a shot.” I unbuckle my belt and reach for the handle.

“I will be getting the door!” He reaches for his seatbelt and scrambles out of the car so that he can rush around to my side and open the door for me.

“I’m perfectly capable of opening a door,” I point out.

“Yes, but I am walking you to your door, for safety. Nobody is messing with you when I am here.” He pats his chest proudly. “No one bothers my principessa on my sight.”

True. I can’t think of many people who would want to go toe-to-toe with a beefcake like him. Not in a fighting sense, anyway.

I’m tempted to invite him up, but he’s right. If we’re going to be more than a hookup, we should take things slow. Slower than this, anyway.

At the door to my building’s lobby, I stand on my toes and pull him down for another quick kiss. “Thank you again, Marco.”

“Be seeing you, bellissima,” he replies. “Just so you know, all I’m thinking about now is how your taste lingers on my lips. This will be my imaginings until we meet again.”

As my legs struggle from going into full swoon, he waits until I’m inside before returning to his car. I’ve never been big on the whole macho-man schtick. I don’t need a man to take care of me. But I’m also not going to complain about having a man in my life who wants to take care of me. My heart skips a beat as my gaze follows him. Marco Rossi is managing to make me feel more than I want to.

I’m already looking forward to date number two.