Maybe she had begun to form some picture of what took place here—a hedonistic feast, which surely included hedonistic sex. But she couldn’t have imagined the elaborate scene that awaited her when the palace door opened. Damon again placed his hand at the small of her back to usher her inside the expansive room.

More murals framed every wall, making it appear as if they were indeed inside a grand palace, in a hall lined with large windows revealing well-manicured Roman gardens complete with fountains and the occasional horse and chariot passing by. Between the “windows” stood large tables laden with grapes and cheese and jugs of wine.

But the paintings and food were—by far—not the main attraction. In the middle of the space, Roman columns created a large circle. Between each rested a bed covered in white, strewn with metallic gold pillows, and most were occupied by people dressed as she and Damon were. In the circle’s center were two small rectangular pools sprinkled with water lilies—and people, some immersed in their togas, others swimming naked. Between the two “baths” stood a grand dais on which a gorgeous blond woman took turns kissing two men, all three of them naked but for the golden laurels atop their heads and looking ready to do far more than just kiss.

Brenna wanted to stop, try to absorb it all from a distance before getting too close, but yet another toga-clad girl was leading them to an empty bed.

Looking around, she realized most of the beds’ inhabitants watched the people on the center platform, but some were indulging in their own pleasure. One couple kissed, their hands between each other’s legs beneath their togas, and she witnessed one girl seated behind another, reaching around to cup the second girl’s breasts as a guy knelt between the same girl’s legs, bending to eat her. On another, even two handsome, muscular guys made out.

“Relax and let yourself enjoy this,” Damon whispered as they settled on the bed together. Not quite sure what to do, Brenna sat with her knees bent slightly before her, unable to deny how good—even comforting—it felt when Damon eased his arms around her waist from behind.

And for the first few seconds, she couldn’t believe she was openly watching so many people have sex in a brightly lit room—and a stark embarrassment that bordered on shame bit at her.

But then something happened.

She realized that no one else was embarrassed.

They were simply enjoying the fantasy, the bacchanal, as the club was designed for them to do.

And she realized that it was impossible not to start feeling more aroused with each passing second. For everywhere her eyes fell, something sensuous took place.

In the pool nearest her, a naked woman with a perfect hourglass body floated on her back while a nude man began to lick between her legs. A shapely woman in a toga emerged up the pool’s steps, water sluicing off her dress to leave her ample breasts clearly visible, and her ass, as well, through the thin fabric. She lay down upon an empty bed, then motioned toward a toga-wearing man who stood nearby holding a tray of grapes. He went to her, dangling a clump of purple grapes just above her mouth, allowing her to bite one off.

In the room’s center, the lovely blonde now positioned herself on her hands and knees on a plush divan as one man’s cock entered her from behind and the other fucked her mouth. Brenna had never seen anything like it.

And although Roman-esque music could be heard—making her imagine a few of Caligula’s subjects off playing lyres and lutes in some distant corner of the room—the melody was punctuated with the sounds of sex: moans, sighs, labored breath.

Brenna was—slowly—becoming more fascinated than stunned.

She leaned back to ask Damon, “How does this work? What are the rules?”

She turned to see a scolding grin. “I guess you didn’t read what you signed.”

Well, not closely, no. She’d seen the part about confidentiality and grabbed up her “quill,” too uneasy to think very clearly. “Maybe not. So tell me.”

“You can just watch if you want—or fuck whoever you came with. But the people who work here will do whatever you like—feed you fruit, fool around with you, or fuck you if you ask.”

“Wow,” she said on an amazed sigh at the “feast” of choices here. Then she looked to Damon again. “How do you know the people who work here from the ones who don’t?”

“The armbands.” He pointed toward the guy still dropping grapes in the mouth of the woman who looked like she was competing in a wet toga contest. A gold metal band circled his forearm and, scanning the room, Brenna realized many people wore them. The woman whose pussy was being eaten in the pool, for instance. And all three of the lovers on the dais.

When Damon saw her gaze resting there, he said, “Only the employees fuck on the center stage. They take turns all night to keep everyone entertained.”

God, she thought—nonstop sex. All night long. What would it be like to work here? To fuck on that divan for a living? Up until this moment, she’d imagined every aspect of the sex trade as something dirty and debasing and undesirable, but for a split second, watching the woman being so thoroughly pleasured by two handsome Roman men with their muscular bodies and big, stiff cocks, Brenna thought maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

“What about…diseases?” she couldn’t help asking.

“There are rubbers under every bed,” Damon informed her. “And brand-new sex toys, too.” As her eyes went wide, he added, “It’s kind of like a minibar in a hotel—whatever’s gone when you leave is added to your bill.”

Unable to resist the temptation, Brenna leaned over the edge of the bed and pulled back the white covering. Indeed, beside a shallow bowl of condoms lay an amazing array of vibrators and other penis-shaped instruments—and a few things she didn’t even recognize!

“Like what you see?” he asked when she rose back up, probably looking dumbstruck.

She bit her lip and answered honestly. “I like what I’ve got up here a lot better.”

“Come here,” he said, then pulled her into a kiss. Around them, sensual notes from the lyre still wafted through the room and more moans and groans echoed, creating their own erotic symphony, but in that moment, all she could see was Damon. And when his hand rose to her breast, caressing her as his kisses dropped to her neck, she didn’t even care if anyone saw.

That quickly, somehow, she’d acclimated.

“Is this as horrible as you feared?” he whispered in her ear, his breath warm on her neck.

She found her gaze planted back on the threesome in the center of the room. The blonde now took turns sucking the men’s cocks, and whichever one wasn’t in her mouth was being worked by her hand.

“It’s horrible, and it’s…arresting,” she said softly, trying to analyze her emotions. “How is it possible that I’m both appalled and…utterly captivated?”

“Because you think too much?” he suggested between kisses that now spanned down onto her chest.

She cast him a sensual smile in reply. “It must be great to be a man, to not have to feel so much and think so much.”

“You’ve done pretty good at that this week, babe—and you should go back to doing it right now.”

He was right, of course. She’d managed to discover a whole new sexual world with his guidance and her ability to turn off old Brenna this week. But being immersed in something so wholly shocking had threatened to take her back there.

Until this moment.

Because she wasn’t going to let it.

Instead, she was going to close her eyes. Drink in the sensation of Damon’s kisses across her chest, his thumb stroking her distended nipple. Soak up the sounds of pleasure all around her. And…eat a grape. That’s what she wanted. To let a man feed her a grape while Damon kissed her. She wanted to be that daring. Take that step.

And it was just as she lifted her hand to wave over a darkly handsome guy wearing a gold armband and bearing a tray of grapes that Damon slipped the gauzy white fabric over her breast, baring it—and she didn’t stop him.

She couldn’t.

She had to keep going.

She held eye contact with the good-looking guy even as Damon’s mouth closed over her nipple—and her cunt spasmed.

Oh God, she was doing this, really doing it. It somehow felt infinitely more wanton than anything else she’d indulged in this week.

The grape-bearer—who even looked Italian—approached, and she licked her upper lip, pointing toward a pile of green grapes. Lifting a small bunch, he held them over her parted lips, allowing her to pluck one free between teeth and tongue.

As the grape squashed in her mouth, the sweet juice flowing free, Damon suckled her harder and her pussy nearly exploded from the rush of pleasure, making her moan.

“More?” the handsome Roman asked.

It made Damon look up, realize what she was doing. His eyes went glassy with lust and she felt beautifully, thrillingly exposed with her breast glistening and naked between the two men. Being on display made her wetter still, made her feel hot and swollen beneath her tiny toga.

She was about to say yes—to more grapes, and maybe more everything—when Damon glanced up at the guy once more, and this time said, “Anthony?”

Oh God.

The Roman lowered his chin, looking confused at first, but then he grinned. “Damon—I’ll be damned.”

“I haven’t seen you in forever, man.”

“Whisky a Go Go in 2002, probably—because I’ve been in Vegas since then.”

Brenna sat up a bit, pulling the fabric back over her breast. Her heart still beat between her thighs, but her sense of passionate abandon had been pretty much extinguished and she felt a little weird.

“Shit—I’m sorry, babe,” Damon said then. “This is an old friend. Used to work at a couple of the clubs on Sunset and let me know about new bands.” Looking up to Anthony, he said, “This is Brenna.”

“Um, hi,” she said, thankful—under the odd circumstances—that Damon hadn’t mentioned her being Blue Night’s newest A&R rep, even if it would remain confidential.

Anthony glanced down at her chest and smiled warmly. “Don’t worry about covering up on my account, hon. When you work here, you see a lot of tits.”

He spoke so sincerely that the comment actually succeeded in putting her somewhat at ease. “I can imagine.”

“So,” Damon said, “working at the most notorious sex club in Vegas, huh?”

Anthony shrugged in his toga. “What can I say? I started here a few months back, a couple nights a week. The money’s good and the work’s fun.”

“I’ll bet,” Damon said.

Anthony glanced back to Brenna. “I’ll let you two get back to what you were doing. But if you need anything, let me know and I’ll take care of you right.”

She understood that he meant food and drink, but knowing what he did here, she couldn’t help hearing the offer a different way and letting the promise pool between her thighs.

“Sorry,” Damon told her as Anthony walked away, then he lay her back on the gold pillows adorning the bed, letting his eyes fall half shut with lust. “Now, where were we?”

She thrust her breasts upward toward him, discovering, thankfully, that maybe the conversation with Anthony hadn’t squelched her arousal as much as she’d thought. “We were here.”

In one swift move, Damon pushed the fabric from her breast again, closing his palm over her aching flesh. “I love that you called him over,” he murmured between more neck kisses.

They trickled down through her so hotly that she could barely answer. “It was only…for grapes.”

A sexy smile unfurled on this face. “Still…you got me even hotter than I already am.” His hand shifted to her bent knee, gliding up her thigh as he bent to rake his tongue over her nipple. And in the center of the room, the blonde cried out her pleasure, and Brenna shifted her gaze to see one of the men pounding into her from behind, the other from underneath, and she was just comprehending that it meant one of them must be fucking her ass!—when Damon’s hand slid between her legs.

“Ohhh…” she moaned, needing his touch there so badly now.

“Jesus God,” he muttered, then pulled his hand back to flip up her skirt.

That’s when she remembered—she’d shaved her pussy for him, and he’d just discovered it. In a far different setting than she’d envisioned.

Glancing down, she saw her smooth, pale flesh, the pink nub of her clit protruding from the bared slit.

“Oh babe,” he said, sounding utterly in lust with her, “look at your sweet little cunt. Look what you did for me.”

“Do you like it?” She even spread her legs a bit so he could look—and just like with her breast, realized she no longer cared about the other people in the room.

He let out a low groan in reply, then growled, “I have to lick you. Now.”

“Oh…” she said, suddenly breathless—and ready. Meeting his gaze, she didn’t hesitate to part her thighs farther.

After another ravenous look into her eyes, he refocused on her pussy and went down on her.

Leaning back into the pillows, she spread her legs still wider, wider, as far as she could, to welcome his hungry, wet tongue. She watched each long lick he made, fresh pleasure erupting inside her at every stroke. And she watched the trio still fucking on the divan, too. And she grew aware that some eyes in the room even watched her now. Watched her having her pussy eaten.

It should have horrified her, all of it—but it didn’t. It only amped up her arousal, turned her crazed with lust, as she ascended to a sexual high that felt almost unreal.

Following her urges, she freed her other breast from the white fabric and began to massage both with her hands. Damon licked her deeper when he saw—and just over his head, on the dais, the scene had changed: yet another man had joined in.

The blonde straddled one of them cowgirl style while another fucked her ass from behind. And standing by the reclined head of the first guy was…Anthony! Thrusting his dick into her eager mouth.

Brenna had never seen or even imagined such a sight. And she couldn’t have envisioned desiring that—so many men, inside her, at once—but the blonde appeared intoxicated with pleasure.

Brenna kept watching them as Damon’s ministrations moved all through her, and she lifted to meet his mouth. “Yes, baby. Yes,” she whispered, still molding her breasts in her palms and feeling the eyes in the room upon her, and—dear God—liking it.

At the same time, she let her own eyes wander farther, to couples and threesomes and foursomes all around the room. The place echoed with sobs and moans and immersed her still more fully into that sense of utter abandon. She yearned to shed her inhibitions like never before, and she fucked Damon’s mouth harder, moaned louder, and returned her attention to the scene on the platform.

What was it like to have that many big, sturdy cocks inside you, pumping? How did a body take that much sensation? How did it feel to be the very center of an all-out Roman orgy?

Her pleasure multiplied, and she knew she would come soon. “Oh baby, lick me,” she begged Damon, loving the sight of his beautiful dark eyes between her legs. “Lick my pussy.”

Damon responded by latching his mouth around her swollen clit, making her cry out and squeeze her breasts harder. He sucked, pulling the hot nub deep, deeper, and just as the woman on the dais released Anthony’s penis from her mouth to cry out in orgasm, Brenna’s hit, too.

She heard her own hot sobs, not caring if she drew attention, only responding to the heavy pulses of pleasure arcing through her, again, again. And on the dais, two of the men came inside the blonde, thrusting and groaning, the three of them now undulating together in waves of flesh as Brenna’s climax slowly faded.

As for Anthony, he didn’t come. His cock was long, hard—almost pretty in that way a perfectly shaped phallus could be. And at first, Brenna wondered why he didn’t finish, but then it occurred to her that most guys could only muster so many hard-ons a night and that maybe he needed to save it for the good of his job.

“How ya doin’?” Damon asked, crawling up beside her in the bed.

She felt positively dreamy, even with all the other sex acts still taking place around them. “Mmm—very well, thanks to your expert tongue.”

Playfully, he leaned to flick it across one nipple. “My tongue likes you, too.”

Just then, a toga-clad girl paused by their bed holding glasses of wine. “To parch your thirst,” she said.

They took the wine, thanking her, and Brenna realized the employees must keep an eye on who was doing what if they were adept enough to deliver drinks after orgasms. The wine went down sweet and tingly, and when Brenna kissed Damon she tasted both Chardonnay and her own juices mixing together.

“I want your cock,” she told him boldly—no hesitation.

“It’s right here,” he said, just as he had last night. “All you have to do is take it.”

Glancing down, she saw his erection making a sizable tent of his toga. And she realized that, strangely, shockingly…she wanted something more than just his cock.

Something more extreme.

“I want you to fuck me there.” She pointed to the dais in the center of all the beds, now occupied by two girls and a guy. Both females were topless, wearing only little white skirts and gold Roman-esque heels much like her own. One stood kissing the guy while the other knelt at his feet, reaching up under his toga, clearly preparing to give him a blow job.

“Really?” Damon asked, casting probably the most surprised expression she’d ever seen on him. He seemed not to even notice the goings-on in the middle of the room.

She nodded, not stopping to question it. “I don’t know why I want it, and I can’t believe I want it—but I want it. I want you to fuck me in front of all these people. I want them to see you giving it to me, want them to see me take it, want them to see our pleasure.”

Damon’s breath grew shallow—he clearly remained somewhere between shock and desire. “I’d love to fuck you there, babe—but, like I told you, only people who work here get to do that. The sex is orchestrated, like a porn movie.”

In her lust, she’d forgotten the rules. And suddenly, being told she couldn’t, Brenna grew desperate to live out this brand-new, unexpected fantasy. If she didn’t, it would be like…like there was more of her wild journey yet to take, like she hadn’t reached her full erotic potential, the potential Damon had uncovered.

Scanning the room, she spotted Anthony, who had put his toga back on. “Ask your friend. Maybe they’ll make an exception.”

Damon just blinked. “You really want this, don’t you?”

She nodded, feeling outrageous and feral and ready—and also earnest. “I want to show you how dirty I can be, Damon. I want to be…the sex partner of your dreams.”

He lifted a hand to her face. “You already are, Brenna.”

Her heart felt as if it physically lifted. “I am?”

“I’ve fucked a lot of girls, babe, but…”

She bit her lip. “But what?”

“Most of them are…bad girls from the start. And how you let me…coax the bad girl out of you…well, that gets me hot in a way I’ve never been before.”

Brenna had barely begun to process his words, let them seep into her skin—when Anthony walked by and Damon held up a hand to stop him.

“Listen,” Damon said, his voice low, conspiratorial, “any way I can take my girl up there?” He pointed to the divan, where one woman now sat on the guy’s lap, sliding up and down his dick with her legs spread, allowing the other girl to lick her.

Anthony looked back and forth between them, not one iota of judgment in his expression. “Sometimes,” he began, “they’ll let guests up there, but only with someone who works here. They know we’ll keep the sex on track, make sure it stays visually exciting, you know?”

Damon nodded, then—cautiously—looked to Brenna.

She knew she should say, Thanks anyway—I understand. But instead, she said, “Maybe we could do that.”

Damon blinked—and she knew that if she’d stunned him with her original request that it was nothing compared to how astonished he was by this suggestion. “We could?”

She lowered her chin slightly, feeling just a bit sheepish now. “If…if you wanted to.”

“Me? Uh, yeah, babe—I’m fine with that. I just didn’t expect you to be.”

“Me either, but…” She lifted her gaze to Anthony. “You seem like a nice guy.”

He shrugged, grinned. “I try.”

Looking back and forth between the two men, she finally let her gaze land on Damon. “So…maybe we could…do it…with Anthony.”