Dominatrix Diaries

6. Beautiful Men

"Fuck, are you okay?" Elias pants, grabbing me by the waist and holding me at arms length.

"Get your hands off of her," my well-dressed rescuer lays a firm hand on Elias's shoulder in warning. "She's had enough heavy petting for the night."

Elias cuts a retort back at my new bodyguard, but I'm too busy taking in the fine tailoring of his black velvet suit to catch what is said. A chain mail tunic reveals a toned abdomen beneath, nearly distracting from the statuesque beauty of my bodyguard's face.

I tune back into the conversation as Elias is telling my assailant to kindly piss off while my bodyguard holds him back from starting a fight. The creep scurries off into the cesspool of grinding bodies, clutching the side of his head in pain.

"Excuse me, what's your name?" I interrupt the squabbling men.

"Raphael Fontaine, pleased to handle any more disgusting men that accost you further," he makes a point of glaring at Elias who rolls his eyes in response.

"Look, thanks for helping her out buddy, but I can take it from here," Elias moves to grab my hand, but I pull away abruptly.

"Look buddy, I think you've done enough for one night and I really don't need you taking care of anything at this point," I've remastered the cool tone in my voice and the iciness strikes just the way I intended.

Elias flinches, hurt. I fight the urge to soften and coddle his ego, maintaining eye contact to assert myself.

"Jules," he starts to plead, but then steadies his voice to sound unbothered. "I needed you tonight. My sister is in the hospital again, but clearly you have more important matters to attend to." His gaze flickers over Raphael who has been watching our exchange intently, probably trying to gauge our relationship.

My heart seizes in my chest at the hollow look in Elias's eyes. Before I can figure out what to say, he turns and fades into the swaying bodies.

"Damn babe, I'm still totally lost as to what's going on here, but I felt that deeply," Raphael cocks his head sympathetically and I wrinkle my nose at being called "babe" by a practical stranger.

"I really appreciate the rescue, but I would appreciate you calling me Julia for now. I don't think we've reached the pet name stage of our relationship yet," I keep my tone playful, not wanting to offend him after his efforts to help me.

"Julia, of course, I apologize. It's just a habit of mine to call my friends babe, but I will only call you by approved terms from here on out," a hint of mischief dances in his eyes, but his words are genuine. "Besides, my boyfriend would probably appreciate being the only one I call babe I suppose."

"Boyfriend huh? Is he here with you tonight?" I find my gaze wandering the club in an attempt to spot Raphael's lover, despite having no clue what he looks like.

"I think Deon would love to meet you. You've got that fire in you that he enjoys in a woman. He likes his men submissive," Raphael winks at me before taking my hand to guide me towards a roped off lounge area.

A plush maroon sofa encircles the obsidian table littered with martini glasses and packets of cocaine. At the center of the chaos is a strikingly attractive man, shirtless under a navy leather blazer paired with pristine black slacks. His elegant fingers glitter with thick silver rings that starkly contrast against deep umber skin. Platinum hair completes his Vogue-worthy look of sophistication.

"My love, allow me to introduce to you my new friend, Julia." Raphael keeps my hand proudly clasped in his. I try not to squirm as Deon's intense eyes connect with mine, drilling into me like he can see my desire for his partner.

I swallow. "If it wasn't for Raphael, I'd probably still be pinned beneath that sweaty excuse of a man. He really helped me out back at the bar," I gesture towards the scene of the crime.

A gentle smile graces Deon's beautiful face. "I'm so glad you could join us Julia," he pats the spot next to him. "The men out there can be quite barbaric. Anytime you visit Trinity in the future, you're welcome at my table."

I feel drawn to Deon's sensual aura, and eased by Raphael's open warmth. The three of us get to discussing the unsavory traits of straight men, and my concerns about Elias and his family drama slip away as I sip on a Moscow mule.

...

The warmth of alcohol has reached my cheeks and numbed my mind by the time Raphael and Deon start kissing. I find myself transfixed by the way their tongues tease each other and the trail of Deon's hand down Raphael's torso.

They pause momentarily to look at me. I feel the shift in energy igniting my body as I transform from a voyeur into a participant.

Raphael's strong hand cups my jaw and draws my parted lips to his. Our rhythm begins at a deliberately slow tempo, crescendoing into a lustful hunger. I feel Deon's hand on my thigh, the coolness of his rings tingling against my bare skin.

"Let's take this to my suite," his voice is low, dripping with the same desire I feel building inside of me.

"Yes please," I breathe against the nape of Raphael's neck.