The Lion's Den

Sarah stepped closer to the bar as Tom waved a bartender close. He continued staring at her, his eyes still grinning, as he ordered two superfluous cocktails for the both of them. Sarah turned and pressed her back against the bar's edge, casting a directionless gaze into the crowd and pointedly ignoring Tom. She could feel his eyes still on her as she fidgeted, digging around in her purse for nothing in particular. Her shoulders jerked as he touched the small of her back, and she instinctively spun around, glaring.

"Your drink, my dear." Tom announced, extending the crystal martini glass in her direction. His eyes crinkled in a smile again, though the smile never reached his lips this time.

"Thanks," Sarah mumbled. She looked at the peach colored drink still fizzing. Her tongue darted out to taste the pink sugary rim before tipping the glass to her lips. Her nostrils flared as the alcohol burnt her lips. It was a bit stronger than she liked.

"You don't like it? It's something I created. Just for this venue." He smirked as he dropped the hint. She knew what he was implying. He was part owner. So that explains it.

"No, it's fine. Just strong, is all. Thank you," she choked, politely. She turned to face the crowd once more, focusing on the throng of dancers swaying in the hazy smoke and light. She could feel his body pressing harder against her, the warmth of him making her hair stand on end. She shifted forward as his hand snaked around her waist, her heels struggling to find balance on the carpeted floor.

"Good. You're mine for the night, Sarah. I'll take good care of you." His whispered, his mouth close to her ear. His breath tickled her ear, and she shivered.

"Um, thank you." She raised the glass to her lips again and tilted it up, draining the drink in one gulp. Her stomach tightened, and the drinks from earlier suddenly hit her. She pushed herself forward, and spun around to meet his gaze head on. His grin widened as he made to reach for her, and she thrust the glass toward him.

"Here. Hold this. I'm gonna check out the dance floor." Sarah wobbled as she trotted away from him, making a beeline for the pulsing music and frenzied clubbers.

She dared a glance over her shoulder, checking if Tom would follow. He remained pressed against the bar, his face still frozen in a tight grin as her friend, Amelia, continued pawing at her date. She hesitated for a moment, debating whether to leave her friend behind. She'd be okay. She didn't look like she'd be too happy with any interruptions.

Sarah's shoulders hunched together as she squeezed her way into the edge of the crowd. She stumbled around couples blindly as the lights flashed black, leaving the crowd in a momentary darkness. She could feel the bodies pressed around her quicken their movements as they rubbed against one another, and her own pulse spiked as if to match the tension of the crowd.

As the lights flashed and darkness receded, she twisted to face the stage. She watched as the DJ, Dave, slipped records on turntables and rocked with the music. She waved as he caught her eye, and he gave a thumbs up in greeting. Good. Someone knew she was out here.

The music switched to an older tune-one of her favorites from college days. She yelped in excitement, and rocked her hips to the beat. Dave must've played this for her. What a throw back to their college days. He always was a good friend like that.

Sarah closed her eyes and drifted into the thrum of the music. Her hips rocked gently from side to side as her shoulders loosened and hands twisted to the the beat. She threw her head back as she rolled her hips harder to the heavy rhythm of the bass, and she relaxed into the crowd, her body mingling with the throng of sweaty bodies and slowly becoming a whole with the hedonistic tangle.

She thrust her hips backward again, her arms twisting and writhing above her, as she moved her body to keep up with the increasing rhythm. She squeezed her eyes shut tighter as she bent her knees, back arching and ass jutting out, before pressing her feet into the ground to draw herself upright again. As she pulled herself up, she felt her ass drag against a warm, solid frame, and her eyes flashed open. Spinning around, she found herself face to face with the Stranger.

He was the picture of elegant calm. His brown, casually coifed hair contrasted with the sleek, black suit that stretched across his tall, broad frame. His dark eyes flared as he caught her gaze and held her there, both of them still and motionless as the crowd of dancers writhed around them.

Sarah stepped forward mechanically, her eyes still fixated on his, as she dropped her arms to her sides. She felt his hands brush over her wrists as he pushed against her. She felt her pulse quicken as his head tilted, and she tipped her head back, not daring to break eye contact. His soft breath whispered against her skin as his hands tightened around her wrists, pinning them against her body, and her lips parted, her own breath heavy and ragged.

"Sarah...Hey." The deep, familiar tone of his voice rippled through her. "I'm Brayden, by the way." The corner of his mouth twitched, the hint of a grin breaking the frozen calm of his face.

"Brayden...Nice to meet you," Sarah whispered, her body leaning harder against his. Their eyes still locked as their lips grazed against one another. Sarah's body crackled with tension as his breath tickled her lips, and she gasped, his breath trailing past her mouth and mingling with her own.

His hands pressed harder against her wrists as he inched his face forward, the small space between them closing. His eyes flashed and then closed as his mouth pressed against hers suddenly, lips crashing and tongues lacing in wet, vicious hunger. Sarah's body went limp and her eyes flickered shut as she savored the taste of him-sweet, musky, and masculine.

His mouth ripped from hers and she gasped with the sudden departure. His hands released her wrists and he stepped backward. His eyes were fixed behind her. She spun around to see, and caught sight of Tom as he pushed through the crowd, shoving past angry dancers and grumbling.

"There you are. I thought you were never coming back, so I thought I'd come to you." He shouted as he made his way to her. He reached forward to grab her, and she jerked back. She twisted her head to glance back, looking to see where Brayden had gone. Vanished. He had a way of doing that.

Damn.

She turned to look at Tom again, and smirked. He seemed incredibly uncomfortable in the crowd. Her gut twisted, and the urge to relieve herself suddenly hit her. The amount of drinks she'd had seemed to catch up with her.

"Excuse me, please. I have to find the lady's room."

"By all means." His hand waved forward in a bowing gesture, before motioning toward the back of the club. "You'll find them down there. At the ends of the bar." There was a long line of prancing women trailing to the end. "Or you could use the more private room upstairs. No line."

Sarah opened her mouth to contest, but her stomach tightened again. Her body did not agree with her. "Alright...but no funny business." She wobbled a bit, her eyes squinting.

"No funny business. Of course." He laughed, throwing up his hands in a sign of armistice. He offered his hand in polite askance. "Follow me? I won't bite-I promise."

"Where's Amelia?" Sarah stood on tip-toes, searching across the crowd to the back at her friend, still tangled in the kiss of her beau.

"She's right where we left her," Tom purred.

Amelia wouldn't notice if the bar were ablaze, much less her absence. She shrugged and nodded a hesitant assent before taking his hand. She felt his grip clamp on hers as he pulled her forward, and her legs wobbled as she struggled to keep up with his quick pace as he led her through the crowd and up the stairs to the upper floor balcony.

The music still thrummed in her ears as they neared the top of the stairs, but the voices of the crowd seemed muted now. The space in the balcony loft was certainly private. There was a velvet swag of rope that barred entry, and two large men in black tees and matching slacks stepped from the shadows, faces stern and arms akimbo.

"Hello, Mr. Malocchio. Right this way, sir." The younger bouncer unhooked the chain and stepped backward to allow them through. "Affari come al solito?"

"Infatti," Tom cooed, winking at Sarah. She blinked, struggling to keep up. Italian? She should have guessed. The city had a strong Italian community, and it was common for even the younger generations to speak the language. She smiled and nodded in feigned comprehension.

They trotted down the length of the balcony, and her eyes scanned the walls of booths lining the walkway. The seats were leather and plush, curling around round mahogany tables illuminated by a single candle centered on each. There were fewer people here. An occasional rustle would alert her to a couple, coiled in a tight embrace as their bodies writhed against each other in the discretion of darkness.

Tom stopped suddenly, releasing her hand and motioning forward. A soft blue light emitted from the door of a tiled room, a wall separating the entrance of the bathroom to the main club.

"Your powder room, my dear." He grinned, hand still extended in front of him.

She managed a meek smile before gripping her purse and hurrying into the bathroom. Her eyes made a quick scan of the empty room, catching a glimpse of her reflection in the wall-length mirror set behind the marbled sinks and chrome handles, before darting into the last stall.

After adjusting her dress and smoothing her negligee, Sarah exited the stall, heading straight for the mirror. She wrinkled her nose at the sweaty reflection, and reached up to smooth the dark circles beneath her tired eyes. Her feet rocked unsteadily from the alcohol's buzz. She would have to pace herself. She thrust her hand in her purse to find her lipstick, and craned her neck downward, struggling to see in the dim blue light.

A firm hand pressed against her mouth as she felt an arm snake around her waist. A hard body pressed against her back as the arm tightened, slamming her against the tiled wall. Her nostrils flared with anger as she fought to scream. Her purse dropped, scattering its contents on the floor, as her hands flailed upward to claw at the arms pinning her.

"Shh, now, dear. It's easier if you don't fight." Tom's voice whispered in her ear as he pressed her harder into the wall. His weight pinned her there as his hands pulled at her dress, shoving the hem up and over her ass and jerking her panties down. His knees pressed between her thighs and shoved them apart as his hands fumbled with a zipper. "Though it's always fun if you put up a little bit of a struggle."

Her hands shoved against the wall and her foot stomped down, digging the spiked heel of her shoe into the toe of his leather loafer. Tom hissed as he stepped back instinctively before grabbing a handful of her hair and dragging her head level with his.

"That's the spirit." His mouth pressed against her neck, rough teeth biting into her skin as he held her there. He shoved his knee in the back of her legs as he pulled back on her hair. Sarah's legs buckled beneath her, and she struggled to balance as she flailed her arms around her.

"Fuck you, you mother fucker." She tucked her arm against her side and shoved her elbow backward, catching his rib. His weight shifted as he buckled over, freeing her enough to spin around. "Fuck. You." She swung her heel out to kick again, but he was too quick. His hand thrust out to catch her ankle mid-swing and jerked her to the floor. Her head slammed against the hard tile, and the air smashed from her body in a dizzying huff.

"Fuck me? Yes, dear. That's exactly right.," he gritted between ragged pants. His teeth gleamed in a devilish smile, and his eyes flickered, a dark anger replacing the previous apathetic calm. He threw his weight onto her again, smashing the remaining air from her lungs. His hands gripped the neck of her dress and yanked, tearing the thin fabric and exposing the tops of her breasts and hidden, black-laced bra. Her body grew rigid and she pressed her legs together mechanically, locking them against his prying knees.

Sarah struggled to regain focus. Her head swam with a foggy haze and a dull pounding echoed in her ears from the fall. She was trapped. She made to lift her hands, but he held her wrists in a vice-grip as he pressed his weight against her, shoving his legs up to pry her knees apart.

Tom wormed his way up between her legs as he freed a hand to jerk her panties down. She could feel his hard cock pressing between her thighs. He throbbed against her as it inched closer to her entrance. She kicked her legs out in a desperate struggle to free herself. He shoved closer, his weight pinning her firmer against the tile, and dug his nails into her wrists. She started to scream, and he pressed his mouth over hers, shoving his tongue down her throat and stifling her sound.

Sarah's eyes screwed shut as she waited for him to take her. She gulped a deep mouthful of air and held it. His cock probed at her entrance as he panted into her neck. And then, like a bang, she heard a thud, and his limp weight rolled off her in a slump.

Sarah's eyes snapped open and she scrambled to sit up. Her hands fumbled to jerk her panties up over her hips as she made a quick scan of the room. Him. Her stranger. Brayden.

He was standing before her, his face devoid of emotion. His chest was heaving, and his hand was still raised in a balled fist. His sleek coat was unbuttoned, revealing the crisp white shirt and gold clasp of his leather belt.

"Are you okay?" Brayden asked gently. She nodded a silent 'yes' as she stared in disbelief. He reached his hand to her, and she snaked her fingers around his rough palm, pulling herself up. Her feet shook as she struggled to regain balance, and she fell forward into him, their bodies pressing against one another. She grabbed hold of his arms to steady herself, and she felt his muscles tighten. Her head tilted up to meet his gaze.

"I'm...I think I'll be okay," Sarah said, her voice trailing into a trembled whisper. Brayden's own head dipped and his eyes darted across her face, searching. His mouth was inches from hers, his warm breath soft and gentle against her lips. Her exposed breasts heaved as she drew a sharp breath inward. She wobbled as she rose to her feet, and she felt her head spin in dizzy circles.

"Good." Brayden's hands clamped around her arms to steady her. He stood frozen, his face still fractions from her own. His pupils grew as he fixed his gaze on her. Her eyelids flickered, lashes fluttering as she felt herself slump. The dull pounding of her head clouded her thoughts.

"I've got you. I've got you." He whispered. His arms engulfed her, lifting her with effortless ease as he sat her on the counter. He pressed his hands on her sides to hold her there as his eyes still bore into her. She looked up at him in hazy disbelief. Her stranger had odd timing.

They both jerked from their gaze, startled by a low groan and a rustle of movement on the floor. Tom seemed to be coming to. The stranger snapped upright and spun around toward the semi-conscious Tom.

"What. the. fuck. is. wrong. with. you?!" He growled, punctuating each word with a swift kick of his hard leather shoe into Tom's stomach.

"I'm sorry, Brayden. I'm-" his voice halted in a sputter. "sooo-mmph!" His body doubled as the stranger kicked him harder. Tom whimpered, blood seeping from the corners of his mouth, as his body curled into a protective ball.

Sarah watched in fascinated horror. Her shoulders tensed and she averted her gaze as Tom wailed. His moans turned to soft grunts as his face was stomped mercilessly into the cold, unforgiving tile.

Tom's body twitched before falling motionless again. His swollen face pressed into a pool of his own blood, but Sarah could still detect a shallow rise and fall of his chest. He was still alive, though barely.

"We should leave." Brayden turned to her and held out his hand. She reached out and grabbed hold, and he pulled her down from the counter. "Can you walk?"

Sarah nodded, blinking away dizziness. "I think so."

"Here. Take this." He shrugged his coat off, and draped it around her shoulders, careful to hide her ripped dress and exposed chest.

A rough voice called from the entrance of the bathroom. "Mr. Malocchio? Is everything alright?" Sarah heard their heavy steps as they made to round the corner.

"Tom and I are fine," Brayden called out.

"Sounded like a scuffle. You sure you don't need any help?" The bouncers voices trailed louder as their footsteps neared.

Brayden looked at Sarah in hesitation before slamming her against the wall separating the entrance. His body pinned her against the tile as his mouth pressed into hers, his hands tangling in her hair as his lips shoved open against hers. Sarah sighed as her lips parted in response, shoving her tongue out to curl around his.

The footsteps of the bouncers rounded the corner, then fell short as they reached the two pressed against the wall, barring the entrance.

"Sorry, boss. We'll leave you to it." The older bouncer said in apology. He turned to leave, but the other stood gawking.

Brayden's hands gripped Sarah harder, fisting the hair at the base of her head and jerking back. Her mouth opened wider in response, and his tongue forced its way deeper, probing and sucking. His free hand reached to grab a rough fistful of her partly exposed breast. Her arms snaked out to reach under the hem of his shirt, and her hands trailed against the warm flesh of his stomach. She shoved her chest against him, swallowing his tongue and pulling at his lips in desperation as her fingers pressed harder into his body.

"Hey, Lou. Come on." The older bouncer shoved the other forward. He grunted before turning to follow.

Brayden's body tensed as he ripped his mouth away. He shoved his hands against the tile wall, his arms stretched and barring her head between them. His breath was ragged now. Sarah slumped against the wall, head still hazy with fog. Her body pulsed with heat, and her knees trembled as she shifted her feet for balance. She flattened her palms against the wall, and peered at him in dazed confusion.

"What do you want, Sarah?" His voice was husky, and his gaze darkened.

"What do I...want?" She stammered. His hand shoved down between her thighs and grazed a trail upward before stopping to press against her mound.

"Tell me what you want." His eyes remained fixed on hers as his fingers slipped under the fabric and probed her moist hole. "You're wet." His fingers shot up, shoving inside of her cunt. Her eyes flickered as she moaned softly. "Tell me, Sarah. Tell me what you want."

His fingers shoved deeper into her cunt, her slickness growing as he pumped harder. Her mouth parted to speak, but her voice groaned into a crackle.

"Oh...Fu-ck." Her hands slapped the tile as her hips rocked and grinded against his fingers. "Please. Fuck me. God. Yes. Fuck...ungh." She jerked against his hand. "...me."

Brayden wrenched his hand from between her legs and stepped back. His eyes clouded, and his face pinched with heavy reserve. His hands unfastened the belt from his waist and he pulled it free, snapping the ends together in a loop. He stepped toward her again and wrapped the leather around her wrists, tightening the belt in a looped knot. He shoved her toward the nearest stall and lifted her up toward the stalls frame. Sarah felt the belt loop itself around the top metal bar before he released her. Her arms strained upward and her feet struggled to touch the floor. She scraped the toes of her shoes against the tile, struggling to maintain balance, and the weight of her body swayed under her bound hands.