“This is incredible,” Charley said. “Is this where you do your product testing?”
“One of the places, yes. I’ve got an entire floor of virtual gaming rooms in our office. We do beta testing for developers looking to launch new games and gaming technology on the FierceConnect platform.”
“So you don’t make the actual games?”
“No, we make the distribution and social platform for them. Gamers in every country can sign up, friend each other, buy games through our network, set up tournaments, design and test new games and modules, and play together in real time. Partnering with developers allows us to offer our users a huge selection of games, and it gives the developers access to our millions of users, which makes everyone happy all around.”
Charley was beyond impressed. “I had no idea you were such a nerd, Mr. Redthorne.”
“Believe it or not, video games are one of the few things I actually love about this era. Besides…” Dorian grinned, eyes sparkling with new mischief. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you gamers make the best lovers? Excellent manual dexterity and control, not to mention our dogged persistence in the face of a worthy opponent.”
He ran a hand over the curve of her ass, but Charley sidestepped him. She’d been wet since she’d stepped out of the limo; at this rate, she’d never get to see the actual games.
“Less flirting, more gaming,” she scolded.
Dorian hit a button on the wall, and two round platforms rose up from the floor in front of the screen, each about eight feet in diameter, with waist-high control panels that looked like something out of Star Trek.
Before she could make another nerd joke, the screen lit up with a logo written in bloody, obnoxious lettering, brightening the entire room.
MIDNIGHT MARAUDER… TIME TO GET HOUSED!
“It’s a virtual reality, supernatural street fight,” Dorian explained. “Each creature has different powers—for example, vampires can blur, demons can conjure fire, shifters can alternate between human and animal form—so choose your avatar wisely. Anything you do with your body here will translate onto the screen, activating your avatar’s different abilities. The more brutal you fight, the more entertaining it will be.”
Charley laughed. “I see we’re playing in full testosterone mode.”
“It’s the only way to play, love.” Dorian helped her up onto one of the platforms, then stepped onto the other one. “Care to place a wager?”
“Hard pass.” Charley touched the control panel in front of her, and a series of white lights illuminated the dashboard. “I’ve never played. And you basically invented this stuff.”
“I’ve only played a few times.” Dorian took a pair of fingerless gloves from his center console, nodding for Charley to do the same. They were covered in electrodes and sensors, and the moment Charley put them on, her heart rate monitor lit up in tandem.
The game finished loading on the screen, and a voice boomed through the speakers, rattling through her bones. “Welcome back, Bone Crusher. Are you ready to brawl?”
“Bone Crusher? Are you serious?” Charley scanned Dorian’s stats. His avatar was a wolf-like creature with massive jaws and clawed fists the size of wrecking balls. “Twelve hundred forty-three hours of game play. You call that a few times?”
“It’s a demanding job,” he teased, securing his helmet and flipping the face shield down.
Charley did the same. The game sharpened before her eyes, so crystal clear it looked real. “These graphics are incredible. I can’t even imagine the time and talent that goes into something like this.”
“A whole team and then some.”
She waved her hands at the screen, watching as her temporary avatar’s hands mimicked the movement in real time.
“What do you think?” he asked.
“I think I’m about to get my ass kicked.”
“Don’t worry,” Dorian said, his maddening laugh doing nothing to alleviate her concerns. “I’m an excellent coach.”
After Charley set up her avatar—a horned demon princess she named Miss Demeanor—Dorian gave her a crash course, showing her how to work all the controls on her gloves. The game was incredibly detailed and accurate; every time she punched, kicked, or dropped to a crouch, her onscreen likeness followed suit, flashing her heart rate and game points as she did.
After a few practice rounds, “Miss Demeanor” finally started to get the hang of it, incorporating some of her special powers, like conjuring balls of hellfire and “smoking out” of her body when she was in danger of dying.
Charley had never been in a man’s sexual playroom, but she had a feeling this was even better. Fifteen minutes into the game, she was hooked, and she loved seeing this unexpectedly playful side of her stern, commanding vampire.
“Okay,” she said after she’d landed her first surprise hit, knocking Bone Crusher on his ass with a fireball. “This is kind of awesome.”
“I’m glad you think so.” Dorian paused the game and flipped up his face shield. “Time to up the stakes.”
Charley knew that look. It flooded her core with molten heat. “You’re so transparent, Bone Crusher.”
“Option one,” he said. “We shut off the game, head upstairs, and have dinner like civilized people.”
“And option two?”
“Winner takes all… of the loser’s clothes. One piece for every knockout. And the loser must do the winner’s bidding for the rest of the night, no questions asked, no talking back, no disobedience.”
“Tough call, Bone Crusher,” she teased, flipping down her face shield. “But I’m gonna have to go with option two.”
They sparred back and forth, trading hit for hit, until a quick error in judgment left Bone Crusher wide open. Miss Demeanor dropped to her knees and lunged forward, catching her opponent around the legs. The unexpected move sent him skittering backward, tripping over the curb, and landing on the sidewalk, flat on his back.
The announcer’s voice boomed through the speakers. “Oooh, Bone Crusher! You got housed!”
Charley laughed. “Lose the shirt, Bone Crusher.”
“I hardly think that’s fair,” he said, his avatar struggling back to his feet. “We’re just warming up!”
Taking advantage of his lapse in attention, she launched another fireball, knocking him back on his ass.
“Housed again, Bone Crusher!” the speakers boomed. “Your game is off tonight.”
“Your game isn’t the only thing I want off tonight,” Charley said. “Lose the pants.”
“I don’t think so, love.” After all his tough, winner-take-all talk, Bone Crusher abruptly turned off the game, stripped off his equipment, and leaped onto Charley’s platform, sweeping her into his arms and bringing his mouth to her ear. “Since you have a fondness for playing dirty, Miss Demeanor, I’ve got a new game in mind.”
Chapter Forty-Four
Charley had won the game fair and square, yet minutes later, she was naked and blindfolded, flat on her back on the polished oak bar.
Behind it, Dorian fussed with glasses and drinks, ice cubes clinking into a bucket, liquid sloshing from bottles. Without her sense of sight, every sound took on a mysterious, erotic subtext that filled her with red-hot anticipation.