I let out a slow, shuddering breath.
I can’t think about Cade. I won’t. It only makes me feel stupid and embarrassed. Ashamed, even, that after all this time I still can’t seem to pick the right guy.
I approach the front doors of the building, which is planted between an Italian restaurant and a abandoned movie theater. Two bouncers stand in front of the door in dark suits.
“Is Kyle here tonight?” I ask one of the men, whose name I still haven’t learned.
“Yeah,” says the taller of the two. “He’s working the floor tonight.”
“Thanks,” I say, slipping inside the door they open for me.
The interior of the club has an old speakeasy kind of atmosphere. A huge bar dominates the main room, and several staircases and curtained doorways extend beyond the main entryway. The men and women in the club are dressed in sleek and elegantly classy clothes that make my own outfit feel too simple and bland, but it’s the best I could put together with my budget. Some people wear masquerade style masks, but others make no effort to hide their faces. The club even smells expensive--like fancy liquor and cologne. Music thumps through the air that can only be described as erotic. The beat is driving and moves through everyone in the room, from the way the women move their hips as they cross the room to the way couples gyrate on the dance floor.
I feel so out of place here, but something draws me to this world. It’s like an invisible string that I can’t break free from--the farther I move from it the tighter the pull gets until I end up here again.
I tuck some hair behind my ear and start walking through the crowded club, unable to stop from brushing shoulders with people as I go. I find Kyle leaning against a wall by the bar. He’s wearing a tight black shirt and has a bored look on his face. He smiles when he spots me, but his expression falls when he notices my black eye.
He pushes off the wall and rushes toward me, concern written all over his face. “Where is he?” he asks.
“Stop,” I say softly. “I appreciate it. But I don’t want you to go trying to kick some client’s ass. We both need our jobs.”
“You think I care more about my job than my little sister?” His eyes are hard and piercing, already scanning the crowd for Cade.
“Kyle,” I say, putting my hand on his arm. “I just need you to keep him away from me if he comes back. Okay? Please let me try to fix the rest. Maybe I can convince the owner to ban him or something. But I need to do it myself,” I add more quietly.
He watches me for a long time before letting out a long breath and nodding, jaw clenched tight. “But if he tries to lay a hand on you, I’m going to break his fucking arm off.”
“Fine,” I say with a small smile. “Do you know anything about the owner?” I ask.
“You haven’t met him?”
“You have?” I ask, a little surprised. “I’ve only been allowed to meet the bouncers and the bartender since I started. I’m not even supposed to go into any of the rooms beyond the lobby yet.”
Kyle purses his lips thoughtfully. “Probably for the best. It gets... uh… kind of intense in some of the rooms. I don’t know if I like the idea of my little sister going into those places.”
I plant a hand on my hip and glare at him. “Really, Kyle? You’re fine with me getting a job at a BDSM club and even dating one of the clients, but you don’t like the idea of me going into those places?”
“Hey, I never said I liked this, but at least you’re just bartending in the lobby. I can keep the creeps at bay when you’re out here. You start going into the scene rooms and the exhibition areas and you’d be on your own.”
“Is that where the owner is? In one of those rooms?”
“His office is way in the fucking back. And…” Kyle sighs, shifting on his feet and leaning in closer. “Just be careful, okay? I get a vibe from that guy. I don’t know if it’s good or bad, but just be careful.”
I nod, resisting my inner-teenager’s urge for a dramatic eye-roll. I know Kyle is just trying to protect me, so I can’t be too annoyed with him. He has been my shield for as long as I can remember. Back when our dad’s abuse changed from emotional to physical, Kyle was there to be my protector.
I leave the bar area for the first time since I started working here and head in the direction Kyle said--toward the back, where dark red curtains are all that stands between me and the mysterious back of the club.
I push through the curtain into a large room set up like a private theater, with sleek, half-backed couches positioned all around the walls in a semi-circle. A raised section of the room serves as a stage. There is a line of men waiting off to one side of the stage and a woman standing in the center of the stage, her head hidden behind a lace hood. Besides the hood, she’s completely naked and tied to a tall post by several leather straps. She probably couldn’t move a muscle if she tried. The way she’s positioned has her legs spread and her ass tilted up in the air, giving the masked man standing behind her access to slide his fingers inside her. The sounds of her moans fill the room, drowning out the low music. After a few moments the man backs away and another man approaches from the awaiting line.
I take a half-step back, suddenly feeling in way over my head. This is insane. Those people are just waiting in line to have their turn with her like it’s some kind of buffet. I keep backing away from the scene in front of me until I bump into the wall and suck in a startled breath.
I’ve never thought of myself as a prude, I mean, I’ve always felt drawn to the lifestyle, but this is… overwhelming. I feel extremely uncomfortable, a little disgusted, and a whole lot curious. Like crane my neck to look at a train wreck kind of curious.. This curiosity feels dark and lust-filled and has me imagining what it would be like to stand on that stage with lace covering my head, waiting in total anonymity while strangers objectified me and used me.
I shiver.
Maybe in another life.
I turn to leave but stop short when I come face to face with a masked man. He’s tall. God is he tall. I have to crane my neck to look up at him. The parts of his face I can see are strong and angular: a jaw dusted with stubble, defined chin, and eyes as gray as stormclouds watch me from within the mask. My eyes wander down his neck to the broad shoulders beneath his suit.
Nothing good. There’s nothing good that can come from a man like this. I’ve made that mistake enough times in my life, and maybe for once I can actually learn my lesson. Just leave. Walk away before you get tangled up with another asshole. Before you get hurt.
“Excuse me,” I mutter quickly. Even as I speak, I can feel the traitorous flame deep inside me flickering to life, daring me to see what this masked man has to offer. That’s a dangerous, stupid thought, though. I came here to find the owner and talk to him about Cade, not to get myself entangled in another disaster waiting to happen.
I sidestep and try to move past him, but he blocks my path. “I never said you could leave, princess,” he says in a deep, rich voice.
Wrong night to test my patience, asshole. “Yeah?” I say. “It’s good I don’t need your permiss--”
My words are cut short when he actually sticks his arm out, blocking me from passing. “You sure about that?” he asks. “You sure you can get out of here without begging?”
I swallow hard. Fear curdles in my stomach, but I don’t want him to see how he’s affecting me. “What happens if I scream? Won’t those bouncers come drag you out of here?”
He watches me without fear. “We could find out.” He steps closer until his hard body presses against mine, until I can smell his cologne. So close I’m practically enveloped in his big, strong body. “Go ahead,” he whispers. He plants his hand on the wall above me and leans down until his lips are beside my ear. “Scream for me. I’m sure it’ll just be the first of many.”
I clench my teeth, breathe out a frustrated but determined breath, and then stomp down on his foot as hard as I can. He grunts in pain and flinches back with a curse of annoyance.
I
shove the curtain aside and head for the exit. The owner will have to wait. Maybe forever. This was a mistake. Coming back here was a mistake. I don’t care how good the money is. I don’t care how much my soul seems to cry out for the kind of intimacy I imagine can only be found in a dominant-submissive relationship. I need to close this chapter of my life and leave it where it belongs. The past.
The sound of my heels stomping across the floor draws a few looks, but no real serious attention. No one even looks close enough to see the tears ruining my mascara. I guess it’s all just hitting me full force tonight--how far I’ve let things get out of my control. How completely lost I am.
I’m storming toward the exit when a firm hand grips my arm, stopping me in my tracks. I see Kyle rushing toward us from my peripheral vision, ready to clock whoever this asshole is.
The masked man sees him coming too. Instead of bracing himself for the punch, he lifts his mask, which stops Kyle’s attack as surely as if he had run into an invisible wall.
“Mr Carlyle…” Kyle mutters. “Ah, sorry, sir. That’s just my sister, and--”
“And she’s perfectly safe with me. You can go back to your post. And you,” he says, turning those stormcloud eyes, intensity radiating from him like heat, on me. “You’re coming with me.” His voice is flat and hard, leaving no room for argument, no room for protest. To my surprise, even Kyle steps back slightly, apparently ready to let me leave with this man.
“There’s a place we can talk more privately.”
I think about stomping on his foot again for the way he talked to me in the other room, but whether it’s a combination of being caught off guard by how disarmingly gorgeous he is or something I can’t comprehend yet, I feel compelled to follow.
I decide to bottle up all the snarky, sassy things I want to say right now and play nice. I need to be calm, maybe I can convince this man to ban Cade and then I might just be able to stay working here. “I didn’t get your name,” I say as politely as I can.
“Jayce,” he says, taking my arm and leading me back the way I came.
He clutches me as we walk, it’s like he’s afraid I might fly away. Like he doesn’t ever plan to let me go. Guilty pleasure swirls in my chest from his touch. Jayce is a total stranger to me, but there’s something comforting in the possessive way he’s holding me. I’ve been with possessive men before, but the way he holds me feels protective instead of restrictive. It makes me want to cling to this moment until he’s erased the pain of my past. The way he holds me makes me feel like a coveted prize. Before now, I’ve only ever been held as if I were a thing--just a prisoner at the mercy of my captors, waiting to be used for their every whim and without any care for my wellbeing.
Just a few words and a few moments with Jayce and I’m already comparing him to past boyfriends. This is exactly why I get into so much trouble. I’m so desperate to be loved and needed that I cling to the first sign of attention any guy gives me, and apparently I attract jerks like flies on shit.
I barely notice where he’s taking me until we’re inside a room lit entirely by blue light. Some kind of fog or smoke rises slowly from the metal grating beneath our feet. A padded table with straps and cuffs sits in the center of the room, and huge blocks of ice are positioned by the walls. I frown in confusion, trying to piece together what the purpose of this room is and failing.
“It’s freezing in here, why…?”
“Sorry,” he says. “It’s busy tonight and this is the only open room right now.”
“You don’t have an office or something?” I ask.
The corner of his mouth twitches up a fraction. “It’s being remodeled.”
I narrow my eyes at him before wandering slowly through the room, trying to compose myself. I find a vent blowing warm air near the large window that takes up an entire wall of the room. I can see a few couples lounging in booths on the other side. They aren’t paying us any particular attention, but I’m sure with the vibrant blue light in here, they could see us clearly enough, except for what little privacy the fog might give.
“I feel like an animal inside a zoo here,” I say.
“Or a piece of art on display,” he suggests. “Something beautiful to be admired and desired, to be lusted after. He folds his arms and regards me. I feel naked beneath those eyes, as if he’s stripping me not just of my clothes but my emotional armor, seeing down to the very core of my being. His gaze settles on my black eye. A change flickers across his face. My brother has always been protective of me, but the look on Jayce’s face seems like he’s ready to kill someone. “Who did this?”
He moves closer, putting his fingertips to my cheek in such a delicate, concerned way I find myself taken off guard.
“That’s what I was actually here to talk to you about,” I say. “He’s a member of the club. Cade Sims. I wanted to see if you would--”
“He’s done.” His words cut through mine like a knife, silencing any doubt or fear I might have that Jayce wouldn’t do anything about Cade. “He’ll never step foot in my club again.” He rubs his thumb across my lips, sending chills down my neck and making my breath catch. “He’ll never touch you again.”
“I should go,” I say quickly. I try to push away, but he doesn’t budge.
“Why are you always trying to fly away, little bird?” he asks with a wicked grin.
I point to the bruise and give him a dry, unamused look. “Take a wild guess.”
“Let me show you,” he says softly, still not letting me move. “You’re hard on the inside. I can see it.” His palm moves to my chest where he presses his fingertips, eyes never leaving mine. “You’ve been hurt. Scarred. But I can help you heal.”
“You don’t even know me,” I snap with more anger than I intend.
“Do you want it to stay that way? I’ll know if you’re lying,” he adds.
I believe him. I don’t know why or how. But it really does feel like he’s looking straight through me--as if I’m laid bare before him. No secrets.
“I don’t know,” I say. It’s the truth, or as close to the truth as I can manage to get, even in my own head.
“You’re scared.” There’s something soothing in his voice. It’s deep. Rich. And the vibrations settle into me like massaging fingers, easing some of the tension from my muscles. “You’re afraid to trust again.” His hands are moving now, exploring me.
I’m conscious of how we’re standing in front of a window where dozens of people can watch us, but somehow I can’t move that realization from the back of my mind to the front. Jayce is taking up all the space.
“Let me show you how a real man treats a woman. Let me show you what it feels like to be coveted. To be claimed. To be owned.”
His words intoxicate me. He reaches into the very essence of me, pulling out my fears and holding them up to the light, eradicating them with the heat of his breath alone. Every syllable erodes my conviction to fight, my will to struggle.
“This is crazy,” I breathe.
“Crazy would be letting you go,” he says, lips brushing my neck. “I knew I needed to taste you when I saw you. I want to know what it feels like to call you mine. To dominate you.”
“Take me,” I say, shocked by how quickly he was able to batter down my defenses, but maybe I shouldn’t be. My heart feels like a gaping wound after yesterday, and Jayce is offering me a distraction, maybe even a soothing balm to take away some of the pain. “Just this once. Just for tonight. Take me away from it all.”
His body is against mine, lips crashing against my mouth. His weight carries me backwards until I bump against the window, pressed tightly against it and pinned by him. My existence blurs into a tangle of warm lips, strong hands, and the hard pressure of his erection against my stomach. For a few blissful moments, I let go. I stop thinking about Cade. I don’t think about all the others before him. I forget my dad and his abuse. It all fades until there’s only Jayce and his touch, only the places where our bodies collide.
“Jayce,” I s
ay, “People will see us.”
“Let them see. I’ll show them how you belong to me. How sweet your submission is and how jealous they should be that it’s mine.”
I close my eyes, breathing out the tension and last threads of resistance I feel. I want it. It may only be temporary, and it may not mean anything to him beyond a meaningless hookup, but I want what he’s promising, even if it’s just a taste.
“Take your dress off for me, princess. Nice and slow.”
I bite my lip, opening my eyes slowly until I can see him standing there in the blue light and surrounded by the smoke lifting lazily up and swirling around his broad form. Desire is written on every inch of his face, and I can’t help drinking it in. He wants me. He wants to see me naked and he wants to take me. It’s only when I reach down to the hem of my dress and feel the slight tinge of pain from the other places Cade hit me that my self-consciousness takes over. I remember the bruises. I remember what it looked like when I stripped down before my shower this morning and looked in the mirror. No permanent damage. No cuts. No broken bones. Just purple reminders of what a stupid little girl I was for trusting Cade, for thinking I could let him be my dom.
My hands fall to my side and a shiver runs through me, forcing up a well of emotion that makes my eyes prick with the threat of tears. I expect Jayce to be angry, to scold me or yell at me for not obeying, but instead he moves slowly toward me as if I’m a scared animal that might scurry away at any sudden movement.
He tilts my chin up until I have no choice but to look into his eyes. His gaze devours me again and I feel that same sense of being stripped bare again.
I know what the other men I’ve been with would do. They would get defensive at the sight of my bruises and demand to see what was done to me. They’d rage and make a show of protective violence, trying to prove how different they were, all while still planning to fuck me and use me just the same.
I wait for the inevitable, for him to ask to see what I’m hiding and then to somehow make this about him until I feel like I’m the one who messed up.
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