by Jenna Jacob
“What the hell?” Sam jerked a worried glance at me. “Why are you freaking out?”
“Open-minded? Just what kind of woman do you think I am, Sam? If you think I’m going to take part in some depraved ménage with you and that trashy stripper, you’re out of your fucking mind.”
Sam’s eyes grew wide. A wicked laugh rumbled from deep in his chest. “I wasn’t asking you to…” He paused and darted me a quizzical look. “Are you sure? I mean, I hadn’t thought about that, but since you mention—”
I interrupted him with an unladylike growl.
“Okay, okay,” he chuckled. “I confess. I do have some wonderfully twisted fantasies about you, Cin, but trust me…in each and every one of them, I have you all to myself.”
“Well, you can shove your wonderfully twisted fantasies right up your ass. In case you weren’t paying attention earlier…we’re through.”
Sam braked hard at a red light, then cupped my chin. “No. We’re not, gorgeous.”
The silky edge of authority that laced his words flipped the switch on my libido to high.
What the hell had I been thinking, letting him get me alone?
Dammit, it was too late for second chances, and I was only making this harder on myself.
The light turned green. Sam accelerated, zipping through traffic like a race car driver, yet I wasn’t afraid. I’d never been afraid when I was with him. Unlike other men, Sam always made me feel safe, protected, secure. I was going to miss that, too.
Headlights from oncoming traffic flashed across his handsome face. God, he was gorgeous, but my attraction to him was more than physical. He called to me on some primal level and touched my heart in ways I’d never known possible. Sam was kind, gentle, considerate—always considerate, especially when we made love. He was hands-down the most passionate and capable lover I’d ever known. Only Sam could finesse every last drop of pleasure from my body. But he was also giving and compassionate, and treated me as if I were as precious as gold. And that was just the tip of the iceberg of all the reasons I loved the man.
But he’s fucking around on you. Hello? my consciences scornfully reminded.
That insurmountable fact ripped me in two.
The silence in the car was all but deafening. Never before had we suffered a lack of words…until now. And the awkward emptiness and undertow of tension filling the air only seemed to widen the gap between us.
Anxiety bubbled and churned in my stomach as Sam pulled into a dimly lit alley. Slowly making his way past a nondescript brick building, he whipped the car into a vacant parking space and turned off the engine.
“We’re here.”
Peering out the windshield, I scanned the nearly empty lot. “What is this place?”
“It’s a private club.”
“What kind of private club?”
“You’ll see. I’ll explain everything to you once we’re inside.”
“If you have something to tell me, say it here…in the car.”
“No. I need to do this the right way. I don’t want to run the risk of fucking it up and losing you.”
Too late. You already have. The words of finality lay poised on my tongue, but I couldn’t find the courage to push them past my lips. My heart wouldn’t stop balking at the thought of ending things with Sam. But the jaded, jealous, insecure woman within wanted nothing more to than call it quits, lick my wounds, and move on.
CHAPTER TWO
With his hand pressed against the small of my back, Sam led me up a flight of industrial stairs. Pausing before an imposing metal door, he whipped out his phone and shot off a text. Seconds later the door opened. Standing in the portal was a perky, petite, buxom blonde wearing a fiery-red corset, tiny black leather miniskirt, and impossibly high red stilettos.
A sour taste lay on my tongue as I wondered if this woman might be the infamous slut, Destiny.
“Thank you, Sammie,” he greeted. “This is my Cindy, the woman Mika spoke to you about.”
Okay, so this bitch wasn’t Destiny. Then who the hell was she, and why was she dressed like a fucking Madame? Fear, like spiders, crawled up my spine while panic surged through my veins. Sam had brought me to a whorehouse?
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Cindy.” Sammie smiled.
I didn’t reply, simply stared at the woman in horror.
She darted a look of concern between Sam and me before inviting us in with a wide sweep of her hand. He took a step forward, but I remained frozen on the stoop. My legs had turned to concrete.
Still wearing a wary expression, the woman addressed Sam. “If you need any help, let me know. I’ll do whatever I can.”
Help? Help with what? A fresh wave of dread consumed me, stealing all rationale from my brain.
“Thank you. I appreciate your offer,” Sam replied.
Pinning Sam with a look of sympathy, and me one brimmed with pity, Sammie turned and retreated down a long, dimly lit corridor. It was then I noticed several doors lining the hallway. I knew they were private rooms where hookers fucked their nightly quota of Johns. Which room was Destiny’s? Was she flat on her back letting some sweaty bastard pound his dick in and out of her pussy?
There were so many rooms. How many rooms had Sam visited, and how many hookers had he fucked? A dizzying wave crested through me, and I swallowed down the bile rising in the back of my throat.
Casually—as if he were escorting me inside a restaurant or museum—Sam cinched his arm around my waist and led me past the threshold.
“Come on, Cin. I’d like to introduce you to a couple more of my friends.”
Friends? He meant hookers, to be sure. Numbness invaded my body. Confusion sullied my mind.
Why would Sam want to introduce me to a bunch of whores? Maybe this wasn’t a brothel after all. Maybe it was a swingers club. My brain was immediately assaulted with images of some strange man fucking me while Sam did the prick’s wife. My stomach pitched.
When the metal door slammed behind me, I nearly jumped out of my skin. Hookers or swingers, didn’t matter which, both were light-years out of my comfort zone.
“Wait.” Digging my heels into the carpet, I tried to wriggle free of Sam’s hold. “I want to leave. I’m not comfortable here. Take me to my car. Take me, right now.” My quivering tone bordered on hysteria.
“Whoa. Calm down, sweetheart. What are you freaking out about?”
“I know what this place is, and I don’t want to be here.”
Sam arched his brows in surprise. “You know what Club Genesis is?”
“Not exactly. But I have a damn good idea,” I challenged with a lift of my chin. “It’s either a swingers club or a whorehouse.”
Sam softy shook his head. “No, sweetheart. It’s neither of those. Come on. Let me show you.”
Suddenly unable to find my voice, I gave him a curt nod. Sam bent and kissed the top of my head while my stomach churned and my pulse thundered.
“That’s my girl.”
I was unnerved by my strange surroundings, and Sam’s reassurance didn’t even scratch the surface of my anxiety. But I let him tuck me against his side and lead me toward the light spilling from beyond an open archway at the end of the hall. The spicy aromatherapy fragrance that filled the air gave way to a pungent scent of leather, while the sturdy beat of my heart rapped against my ribs like a war drum.
As we breached the archway, Sam turned and watched me with a guarded expression. The room that lay before me was lined with dozens of polished wooden crosses, strange standing frames, and misshaped benches covered in padded leather. Paddles, floggers, and other chilling implements of pain hung from individual hooks along the walls.
My throat went dry. My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth. A blast of adrenaline sent my already pulsating heart to skip like a flat rock over a placid pond.
The only normal-looking furniture in the massive room was hundreds of chairs surrounding dozens of tables—a vast seating capacity for voyeurism.
A cry of
alarm lodged in my throat. Genesis wasn’t a whorehouse or a swingers society. It was a fucking BDSM kink club. A cold, clammy sweat popped out over my lip. Like the Wicked Witch of the West, I’d been flattened. Not by a house but by Sam, who had landed me smack-dab in the middle of Fetish Oz.
Turning in a slow circle, I took in my surroundings. Near the archway, Sammie stood behind a long, brightly lit bar, studying me with a pensive expression.
Whipping my gaze to Sam, I clenched my jaw. “Why did you bring me here? You didn’t honestly think that I’d let you…?” My voice quivered in rage and fear. “Oh, hell no. Take me to my car. Now.”
Worry lined Sam’s face as he cupped my cheeks and shook his head. “Breathe, sweetheart. I didn’t bring you here to scare you. I brought you here to talk—”
“Talk?” I shrieked. “There’s not a damn thing to talk about.”
“Cin,” Sam began in a placating tone.
“No,” I interrupted, shaking my head adamantly. “Whatever kinky shit you’re into is fine, but this…this… jesus, Sam. What made you think I’d be okay with this kind of… No. Fuck no.”
Putting some much-needed space between us, I stepped back. The icy chill filling my veins grew even colder at the loss of Sam’s body heat. Darting a furtive glance toward the hall, I wanted to run as fast and far as my legs would carry me.
Sam had no trouble reading my thoughts. With a disapproving scowl, he quickly closed the distance between us and gripped my arms. “I know you don’t want to believe this, but there’s a submissive woman hiding inside you.”
Unadulterated shock sent air to explode from my lungs on a whoosh. Anger, like a snake, uncoiled with a venomous strike. Slapping my hands on my hips, I cocked my head and narrowed my eyes.
“You are higher than a kite if you think there’s a single submissive cell in my body.”
Sam held up his hands in surrender, but the challenge in his eyes said he was far from giving up. “Don’t jump to conclusions, Cin. Before you arbitrarily reject what I’m saying, hear me out.”
“You can say anything you want, Sam. Hell, you can talk till you’re blue in the face, but you’re never going to convince me that I’m some weak-minded, malleable submissive.”
“You’re right. You’re not a submissive.”
“Ah-ha. Thank you. Now take me back to my car.”
“I wasn’t finished,” Sam replied. “You’re not a submissive yet.”
“Not ever,” I spat. “At least not in this lifetime.”
“I know this is hard for you to hear…even harder to believe, but you’ve revealed your submissive tendencies, over and over…more times than I can begin to count.”
I pinned him with an incredulous stare. “That’s the biggest crock of shit I’ve ever heard. Submissive tendencies, my ass,” I scoffed. “I’m a successful, independent, self-sufficient woman. There’s not an ounce of subservience in my body.”
“You’re wrong. Not about the self-sufficient parts, but… Okay, think back on all the times we’ve made love, Cin. You yield to me in every way. You let me take control. Take command. You surrender to me like a natural-born submissive. Don’t try and deny that.”
I snorted derisively. “Just because I let go of my inhibitions doesn’t make me a submissive.”
He shook his head. “It’s more than letting go of your inhibitions, and we both know it. Look, Cin. You can lie to yourself all you want, but if you’re willing to be brutally honest, you can’t deny that letting me take control drives you wild.” A devilish smile tugged the corners of his mouth. “I see it, hear it…hell, I feel it every time. And it’s spectacular.”
“Stop saying that,” I screeched. “I’m not some spineless robot or blow-up doll that lacks a fucking brain.”
“Ah-hem.” A bald man with skin a shade or two darker than my own and muscles that seemed as if they might explode from beneath his flesh interrupted my rant. Captured by his unique amber eyes, I blinked before noticing the fair-complected woman with crimson corkscrew curls and bright green eyes standing beside him.
“Good evening, Cindy. Welcome to Genesis. I’m Mika LaBrache and this is my slave, Emerald.”
I blanched. Slave? Slave! A sickly wave of disgust crested through me, followed by a flash fire of outrage. Every muscle in my body tensed as I sent the man a caustic glare. “Evidently you didn’t pay attention in history class. Slavery was abolished in 1865. And trust me. If there were any lily white girls like her”—I nodded toward the man’s slave—“working the plantations that owned my great-great-mammy, I would have certainly heard about it.”
My hateful chiding sent a rush of pink blossoming over Emerald’s cheeks. She quickly cast her gaze to the floor. Sam let out a disapproving grunt while Mika simply held me with his golden eyes. Ever so slowly, a smirk crawled across his toffee-colored lips.
“I wasn’t referring to that type of slavery,” he explained in a calm, velvety tone. “Our similar pigment corroborates the fact that a generous portion of cream has been added to our lineage. Though my ancestors were brought here from Jamaica as slaves, the term—at least inside these walls—holds a totally different meaning.”
Duly chastised, I nervously tucked a strand of straight hair—a genetic gift from my Filipino mother—behind my ear. A palpable awkwardness hung in the air.
“Like I said,” Sam stated pointedly to Mika, “we’re starting from ground zero.”
“Yes, I can—”
“We’re not starting from anywhere,” I argued. A flash of irritation flittered over Mika’s eyes. Evidently the man didn’t like being interrupted. So sad. Too bad. I didn’t give a rat fuck about his feelings at that moment. My nerves were stretched to the point of breaking.
“Stop trying to pick a fight, Cin,” Sam scolded. “I asked Mika and Emerald to join us, hoping that if you met the owner of Genesis and his girl, it might ease some of your fears.”
Owner? So Mika wasn’t just a fellow pervert, he was president of Kink Central.
Priceless.
“Fears? You think I’m scared of all this?” I defiantly asked as I waved my hand around the room. “Scared doesn’t come close to what I’m feeling right now, Sam. I’m fucking terrified that you think you’re going to make me into some gutless plastic doll.”
“First of all, I don’t want to make you into anything. And secondly, submission is neither gutless or plastic,” Sam replied with a hint of exasperation.
“My apologies if my club makes you uncomfortable,” Mika offered in the same smooth, welcoming tone as before. “You’re perfectly safe here, I assure you.”
“Uncomfortable? That’s an understatement,” I derisively mumbled under my breath.
Sam arched his brows, clearly unhappy with my rebellious attitude. What the fuck did he expect? That I’d fall to my knees and beg him to play degrading Master/slave games? He was in for a rude awakening. The urge to tell him to go fuck himself burned like acid on my tongue. But I knew the longer I stood here fighting his delusions, the longer it would take for me to escape this dreadful place.
A low chuckle rumbled off Mika’s lips, but stark intimidation danced in his eyes. “You’ve got yourself a feisty one, Sam. But then, a strong-willed sub is so…invigorating.”
Emerald lifted her head as a saucy smile tugged her lips. “How would you know, Master?”
I held my breath waiting to see what method of torture the Master would choose to put his taunting slave back in line.
Instead of yanking her by the hair, chaining her to the medieval furniture, and beating her senseless, Mika simply laughed and swatted Emerald on the butt. “Because I have a spirited, sharp-tongued girl who needs my consistent firm hand.”
“Can I beg you for that, Master?” Emerald purred with a seductive grin.
“Seems you already are, my pet.” Mika chuckled.
Their lighthearted banter confused me. Outwardly, Mika appeared the quintessential big bad Dom…and then some. At Emerald’s taunting, I expected
him to puff up like a prizefighter and start pulling out whips and chains, not laugh. Strangely, he seemed to enjoy…even indulge the woman’s cheeky remarks. I wasn’t witnessing any of the kneel-on-the-floor-and-kiss-my-boots behavior that I associated with this heavy-handed lifestyle.
Still wearing a grin, Mika slapped Sam on the shoulder. “My office is unlocked. Go on up. I’ll be along to monitor the private rooms later.”
“Thanks, man. I appreciate it,” Sam replied.
“Good luck.” Mika smirked as he slid a hand to Emerald’s elbow, and led her toward the bar.
Sam cupped my elbow the same way Mika had Emerald’s. I couldn’t help but wonder if it was some moronic Dominant caveat, like a secret squirrel handshake. Whatever. It really didn’t matter.
As he led me back down the hall, I focused on the metal door. The damn thing called to me like a siren song with an offer of safety to the scared girl inside me. If I could make it out that door, I’d be able to purge the sickly sludge pressing in on my lungs, and draw in a deep breath.
The urge to choose flight over fight had me perplexed. I’d never purposely sidestepped any challenge. But then again, I’d never been thrust so far out of my element that I willingly grabbled for a foothold on sanity, either.
“Sam. Please. I don’t want to stay here. I’m exhausted. I just want to go home.”
He stopped in his tracks and frowned. “What’s the real reason, Cin?”
“I…I don’t like this place. It scares me.”
Sam’s expression softened as he wrapped me in his arms and pulled me tight against his chest. “I know it does, but if you’ll let me, I’ll ease your fears. I need to explain the dynamics of this lifestyle before you’ll truly believe I’m not cheating on you.”
I wasn’t ready to banish my jealous rebellion any more than I wanted to succumb to the safety found in Sam’s arms. Unfortunately, I could feel my rancor easing, my heart softening, and began to second-guess whether Destiny was truly a threat or simply a byproduct of my own insecurities.
Sam skimmed a feather-soft kiss over my lips as he pressed my back against the wall. “Close your eyes for me,” he whispered.