Delicate Revenge: Breaking Belles

I nodded, half listening. If all he was going to do was order me around right before we were supposed to be on stage, he could go fuck himself. I needed to focus. He’d told me I needed to be perfect tonight. Well, things were starting to happen, and I couldn’t afford to miss a single detail.

One of the Elders stood in the center of the room and banged his cane once we’d all arranged ourselves. The doors the girls had entered through shut behind them ominously. In the corner, two violinists stood. One violin began, striking a slow, long, vibrating note. Then the second joined in, a searing note so that when the two instruments sang together, the song pulsated right through you.

I gasped a little, looking around to see if other people were affected or if it was the signal for something.

But the Elder with the cane in the center of the room spoke up again as the two violins continued to dance and entwine their music with one another, sensually promising what was to come.

“Women, bring forth your paint pots. Dance and paint one another for the delight of our eyes.”

I looked around and saw that half the women held little earthen pots full of silver paint. It was then that I finally realized what was different about the ballroom. The floor had been covered in panels that locked together to protect the marble floor. They’d prepared for things to get messy.

Those with pots paired up with those of us without. The music became more intense as the woman with shiny black hair reached her small, delicate hand into the pot and came out with fingers dripping silver.

Shit, there was nothing to do but pretend I didn’t know anyone here. I couldn’t think about Montgomery or any of the other guys I’d grown up with.

I took a bold step forward to the woman, and she smiled. I didn’t have to look behind me to know Emmett’s eyes were laser-focused on me. But he needn’t have worried. I’d gotten his message loud and clear.

Perfection. I’d put on a show for him. For all of them. Let them look.

I was Bellamy goddamned Carmichael, for Christ’s sake. I was no shrinking daisy. If we were to be objectified, well, I’d show I was the most desirable object in the room. I would revel in their stares. They would give me power. I’d feed off them like I always had.

So I arched my chest toward the raven-haired beauty. Her dripping silver hand landed on my breast. She wasn’t shy about massaging the paint into my skin, rubbing her thumb over my areola and puckered nipple.

I hissed from the cool of the paint and because I knew Emmett would be watching my every reaction.

Fortune favored the bold, right? So I reached my hand in her pot, shivering when my hand dipped into the paint. I pulled out my sopping hand and reached toward the woman. I slid my hand up her sternum, leaving streaks of silver in my wake. Then I curved my hand up to her throat and back around her neck, tugging her head down until her lips were inches away from mine.

Daringly, I slid my eyes over to the sidelines where Emmett stood, glass of brandy in hand, watching me just like I thought he’d be. I smiled at him as I slid my tongue out of my mouth and teased her lips open, then kissed her. And I didn’t miss the way he readjusted his stance and took a swallow of liquid.

My new friend was happy to play the game I was introducing. She gathered more paint and left a silver-handprint on my ass as she pulled my body into hers. She was all softness and curves in my palms.

Murmurs from the men on the sides of the room told us they liked the show we were giving them. I pulled away from the woman sharply. Getting fresh paint, I grabbed her plump breasts, then traced down to her belly button. Emmett said he wanted us to stand out from any other pair before us. So I would put on a show. And knowing his eyes were on me, I couldn’t say that everything happening right now wasn’t turning me the hell on.

After another dip in the pot, I reached between her thighs and pulled them open, forcing her legs farther apart. Silver paint dripped down the inside of her legs.

In return, she grabbed both of my ass cheeks, plumping them in her hand and then giving them a wet smack with her silver hands. Then she luxuriated in rubbing the paint around, up my back, and then down my ass crack.

Whistles and catcalls from the sidelines increased in volume until finally canes began to pound.

I lifted my eyes and looked around. The other women were covered in paint just like me and my companion, and the men were clearly losing their shit they were so anxious to touch us and join in on the debauchery. Some already had their cocks out, fluffing them in preparation.