A moment later, another strange set of hands touched her back then slid underneath her dress to stroke her breasts. Before she could yelp and pull away, a familiar voice spoke low in her ear.
“Miss me, baby? Because I definitely missed you.”
She relaxed at Damian's voice. One of his hands left her breast and moved around to her front, fighting to get underneath the gown. When he'd managed it, he slipped his hand under her panties and began to stroke between her legs.
“I see fellating strangers in public gets you wet. Noted,” he growled in her ear as the man in front of her came with a final groan of pleasure.
Lindsay held her in place. “Swallow, kitten,” he said, never losing focus of the situation.
She swallowed the man's spendings, moaning as her hips bucked against Damian's hand.
The man's cock went soft in her mouth and Damian pulled her away, removing his hands from underneath her dress. She stumbled off the platform into his arms and stood unsteadily looking around. A silent crowd had formed around them, watching the show she'd just put on.
Hunter stood off to the side, watching her with amused interest. He nodded at her as if he appreciated that bit of performance art, as if he couldn't have come up with better entertainment for the opening himself.
Then he turned and disappeared into the dispersing crowd.
68
Shannon sat silently in the passenger side of the car. It was only nine-thirty. When the show had closed for the night, there had been a long lull where the participants quietly met up with the others who'd been on display, rubbing kinks out of shoulders and soreness out of wrists, searching for chafing or other damage. The care for each other, the focus only on the others that had shared this experience with them was somehow strangely erotic.
Shannon had felt like a voyeur watching this private exchange in the open space.
She'd blushed in the darkness when the man she'd given the blow job to was free to look around the room, his eyes briefly meeting hers. He couldn't have known it was her, but she felt exposed anyway. She felt like he somehow knew.
“Are we going home now?” Shannon asked.
“No. We're going to a little after party,” Lindsay replied.
“Who will be there?”
“The art. The artist. His pet, Saskia. Us. And Damian.”
Shannon tamped down the thrill she felt at the guest list and instead changed the subject. “I'm starving.”
Lindsay chuckled. “There will be food. Damian brought in a catering team. They'll leave as soon as everything is set up.”
She didn't want more fancy food. She wanted something normal. But she didn't want to be rude.
So they were going to Damian's house? Had Lindsay already made these arrangements? She found herself nervous at the prospect of seeing Damian again. Wetness flooded between her legs thinking about the way he'd touched her at the gallery—the proprietary way he touched her. The way Lindsay let him touch her. There had been no awkward vibe, no hostile static seething between the two men, no posturing like with Lindsay and Mr. Graysen.
It seemed understood that Damian could touch her however he liked, whenever he liked. The thought should unsettle her, but it only excited her. The bank president may have stroked her back but he wouldn't have dared to touch her as intimately as Damian had.
When they got near the coast, Shannon lowered her window to breathe in the salt air. And then she started to cry.
“What's wrong?” Lindsay asked not taking his eyes from the road.
“I just haven't seen the ocean in so long,” she said softly.
He placed a hand on her knee. “You could have gone to the beach on your day off. You had plenty of time. You should go next Friday. Spend the afternoon. There's a public beach about 3 miles back. You could get one of those tropical fruity drinks with an umbrella and ogle the lifeguards.” He turned and winked at her.
“Okay.” She smiled weakly and wiped the tears off her face, feeling foolish for the outburst.
Of course she could have gone, but for some reason it hadn't occurred to her. Being at the house so long she'd forgotten the real world. She'd forgotten the city. It was only being inside the city that had brought it back into existence. Even then that was the only place that seemed real. She was embarrassed to admit she'd forgotten the edge of the city sat twenty minutes from the coastline.
They'd left the main highway several miles back, moving to increasingly intimate side roads until they were driving down a long private drive lined with tall trees hovering above them on either side.
After another mile, they came upon a high stone wall with flickering oil lamps attached at the top to light the way. A large reinforced steel gate stood open to let them pass onto what was clearly the property and their destination. Finally the path opened out to reveal the most magnificent thing Shannon had ever seen.
“What is this place?”
“Damian's house,” Lindsay said. “What do you think?”
She wasn't sure she could form full sentences. It was such a stark contrast to the white columned and somewhat old-fashioned mansion she'd lived in for the past eight years.
Damian's house was a mansion just as grand, but it seemed to be made entirely of glass. The impressive structure stood at the edge of a rocky cliff overlooking the sea.
Before she could say anything, Lindsay had parked the car and came around to her side, opening her door and helping her out. She didn't take her eyes off the house, her mouth gaping open.
Damian greeted her at the door with a kiss on each cheek, holding both of her hands in his as if she were a long-lost friend. He stepped back still holding her hands.
“Let me look at you.”
Shannon blushed under his scrutiny as the wrap fell from her shoulders onto the floor. Lindsay bent behind her and picked it up. She was grateful when she felt the silk caressing and covering her back once more. Damian let go of her hands, and she gripped the wrap tightly around her.
He didn't comment on that. He just led them into the house. The other guests had already arrived. They all stood in a large industrial-sized kitchen, eating what looked like mini cheeseburgers and fries with all sorts of different dipping sauces—not the snotty pretentious food Shannon had dreaded having more of tonight.
Everyone drank soft drinks out of plastic cups. It looked like a combination between a frat party and a Sunday afternoon luncheon.
Damian filled a plate of food for Shannon. “Here, sit,” he said, guiding her to a chair at the end of a table that was just out of the way of all the activity, like she was the only one who rated the privilege of sitting. Soon Lindsay joined her at the same table with his own plate. Damian got them both soft drinks and then went to mingle with his guests.
It was strange seeing all the people from the art exhibit wearing normal clothes and acting like regular people, as if they hadn't just spent three hours naked and bound under black lights being touched and licked and kissed by people they would never see.
Most of them had several orgasms over the course of the evening, and yet now they wore jeans and T-shirts of various types and styles, looking like theater majors and eating mini cheeseburgers like none of it had happened. And like it wouldn't continue to happen day-after-day for an entire month.