Thank you Mel, thank you Steph & Cris 3
8. Isabella
"Keep them coming." I wink at Lauren, my favorite bartender. She gets me right away, telling me she'll take care of me. Lauren is a beauty: golden hair that's half up and a face like a movie star from the fifties. Where Jasper finds all these beautiful people to employ is beyond me.
I'm on the dance floor, beats low and seductive, bass vibrating through my entire body. Rose is gone, Jasper's busy, and I don't have a care in the world. I'm high on sexual frustration and a little drunk from my endless supply of vodka martinis. It's odd to indulge in alcohol here at Senses; I normally never drink when I'm here. But it's a fun party, there's hot people everywhere, and the smell of sex is in the air. All my inhibitions are gone. Vanished completely.
There's something different tonight, for sure. I notice it when there's a warm hand burning a hole through the lace panel of my bodysuit, a leg touching the back of my thigh. I gasp, barely able to hold back a moan at the contact. It's a man's touch. I just know it, but it's one I don't recognize. I close my eyes, swaying to the music, losing myself. I briefly wonder who the fuck dares to walk up to me like this, touch me, but remind myself it's not strictly a play party. It's a regular party now. At least, on this floor it is, but I still wonder who's willing to break my rules.
Just when I want to turn around to look at him, there's a firm hand on the back of my neck. His hold pulls at my hair and makes me hiss.
"Who are you?" I ask. My voice barely makes it over the heavy music, but I bet he's hearing me just fine as I tip my head back slightly until it hits his shoulder.
"Shut the fuck up and keep dancing," he barks.
I frown, resisting the urge to ask him who the fuck he thinks he is, ordering around a fucking Dominant, but I'm lost in the moment, in his voice, in the feeling of his strong hands on my waist. I want to turn around, order him on his knees, and to beg for my forgiveness, since he's being crass but I don't. Instead, I don't care and forget who I am.
"I asked you a question," I say. My voice betrays the state of my body. Whereas I'm normally calm and collected, careful, I sound wanton and whoreish. The way he treats me reminds me of my first few months on the scene—my sub time.
He chuckles darkly, a low, husky, incredibly sexy sound that sends my pussy into overdrive. "Princess, I told you to keep your fucking mouth shut." His whisper is menacing, but I'm fuming and start laughing, my movements stilling.
"What the fuck did you just call me?" I turn around and slip from his grip, almost gasp when I see his face. It's him. The ginger. The fuckhot guy with a voice to match.
He's got green eyes that rival the emerald pendant I inherited from my grandma, and they smolder dangerously.
"I called you princess, darling," he says, repeating himself. My eyes narrow and I down the rest of my drink, ready for a fresh one. I want to fucking crush his face against the wall, show him who's the princess here.
"Who the fuck do you think you are?" I leer at him.
"Do you know who you're talking to, buddy?" Jasper comes over, seeing the distraught look on my face. I'm pissed, and Jasper knows me better than I know myself. He's bracing one hand on the ginger's shoulder while he leans his chest against his back. It's like he's trying to show the stranger who's boss. And you never doubt who's running Senses. That's Jasper. Master J. Jasper chuckles before he talks again. The green-eyed dickhead looks confused. "That's Mistress Havoc, dude. Show some respect."
His green eyes grow wide as he sizes me up, and I grin wickedly.