“Don’t worry, she’s getting ready for us,” Cam says in his deep baritone. “Relax. She was nervous, and I think we can wait a bit longer before we call the cops. Hell, I might have another bite to eat because we’re about to burn off a lot of calories.”
I nod curtly and follow Cameron over to the appetizer table as he fills up on more food, but I can’t eat at the moment because my Spidey sense is going off. Where the hell is Corrie? But I make myself be patient, and watch as the party unfolds for a few more minutes. The pretty girl Corrie was talking to earlier, Bridget something-or-other, is already completely nude just a few feet away and engaging in impressive acrobatics. She’s lying on the floor with her back propped up in the couch and legs spread as a man stands over her, gripping her ankles as he dips his cock into her waiting pussy. She’s moaning and twisting her nipples as he fucks her, and to be honest, the scene is getting me hot. Where is Corrie? I really need our girl to release the tension in my groin.
“I’m going to check on her,” I grunt. “I can’t take this anymore.”
Evidently, Cam’s also hard because he jerks his head with a stiff yes, and then we stroll down the hallway towards the restrooms. Some of the bedrooms are open, and there are plenty of people writhing on the mattress, one-on-one, two-on-one, or in even bigger groups, but I don’t really care. I just want to find my woman. We check two of the bathrooms, and to my surprise, both are empty.
“Okay, where the hell is Corrie?” I ask. “She didn’t come back to the party without us noticing, did she?”
Cam shakes his head.
“No fucking way. She wasn’t about to let another man touch her. It was about playing in public, and being an exhibitionist during this trip to New York.”
I nod.
“Well, where the fuck is she then? Do you think she got freaked out and went back to our hotel room?”
Cameron shakes his head, just as puzzled. “The only entrance in and out of this suite is the one in the common area, and it’s locked. We would’ve noticed if she left. Corrie couldn’t have climbed out the window either because fuck it, we must be at least five hundred feet in the sky.”
So where the hell is our woman? We check a few more rooms, our movements becoming more and more frantic. This is fucking weird and beginning to creep me out. Do girls regularly disappear from Sanctum events? Is there a dark underbelly that has yet to be revealed? Doom and gloom situations fill my mind and it’s like a horror movie coming to life.
As we move from room to room, there’s no sign of Corrie, and my pulse begins to spike with panic. Holy fuck. What do we do now? Finally, Cam and I enter the kitchen, breathing hard.
“So what’s the plan? She’s obviously missing so what do we do now?” I rasp, my hands gripping the counter with white knuckles. “Oh shit.”
Cam shakes his head.
“She has to be somewhere on these premises,” he growls. “There’s no way in or out except through the front door, and again, that’s locked.”
That’s when a muffled squeal greets our ears, and we stare at each other in confusion. What the hell? Where is that coming from? We dart to the back of the kitchen where there’s a locked door that must open to a pantry of sorts, and when I jiggle the handle, nothing budges. But then another squeal sounds out, and this time, we can tell that it’s Corrie and that she’s in distress.
Cam doesn’t hesitate. The athletic man takes a few steps back and then charges the door, using his body weight to slam it open. The thing is probably made of particle board because immediately, it breaks and falls to the floor, revealing Corrie on the ground with a rope leash around her neck. It’s not tight, but there’s a hairy man on top of her, groping her curves. He’s trying to kiss her as she sobs and pushes ineffectively at his shoulders.
“Get the hell off of her!” I shout. But the man doesn’t even hear me because he’s so busy sucking on Corrie’s right nipple as she screams again.
That does it. I rush forwards and grab the man by his waist before physically hauling him off my woman. He’s naked, but his cock dangles between his thighs limply. For some reason, this man is only three inches long and his tool is a bright red color, instead of dark pink or even a ruddy brown. Seriously, it looks like a dying goldfish.
“What the fuck?” he screams, squirming in my grasp. “She wants it! Don’t you know the rules of consent at Sanctum? You don’t interrupt someone else’s scenes!”