“It’s quieter at the moment because nobody is down here. But it won’t be for long.” Shay chuckled. “Some of the clientele are noisy fuckers, and I mean that literally.”
He withheld a groan. “I knew what you meant.”
Her smile grew as they reached the basement floor. “Do you want to get the lights while I set up the adult entertainment? The first guests will arrive soon.”
“Sure.” He entered the pin code securing the door at the end of the hall and held the heavy wood open for her to proceed him into Vault of Sin. While Shay played with the television set in the newbie lounge, he dragged his feet to the main room and flicked the switches on the wall beside the bar. Florescent lights off, mood lighting on.
Truth be told, Cassie would’ve loved it down here. He supposed that was one of their problems in the first place. He’d shaped her to like what he liked. To adore the depravity he adored. She hadn’t been that type of woman when they’d met. She was innocent. Almost pure. He’d shown her the far reaches of sexual desire, not once realizing he was molding her into someone else until it was too late.
A click sounded in the next room, followed by hearty moans and guttural groans from the large television screen Shay was setting up. The noise was far more prevalent than it would be once guests arrived and created the sexual sounds for themselves. The mental image should’ve awakened his arousal. Instead, he felt dirty. Depraved. A cheat.
He doubted the latter would ever fade.
When he did finally move on, it wouldn’t be pretty. He’d always be emotionally committed to Cassie, and he knew his self-respect would be at an all-time low if he shared himself with another.
In his pitiful delusions, he’d even pondered the idea of paying a high-class escort to be the first. Emotions wouldn’t be involved that way. It would be a job—for him to get over his wife and for his escort to pay the bills. Win-win. He even had a business card in his wallet. A constant reminder that moving on was a phone call away. Only he couldn’t bring himself to dial the number.
“You okay, big guy?” Shay came up behind him.
“All good,” he lied. He was dying inside, sinking into purgatory.
He seated himself at the bar, refrained from reaching for a bottle of Grey Goose and zoned out while Shay polished glasses and checked the beer taps to see if they were in working order. Time moved without him, the world not caring he was falling apart with each second that ticked by.
Patrons arrived in perfectly choreographed intervals. As the night dragged on, people came, literally, and went. He didn’t know who or when. He scoped the rooms once or twice, shuffling his feet as he made sure all participation was above board and consensual. But nobody infiltrated his consciousness. Nothing invaded his thoughts. Nothing except Cassie.
“I love you,” someone said behind him.
He winced, pushing through the heartache as he remembered the first time his wife uttered those words. He’d fallen for her long before that. Weeks, maybe even months prior to her declaration. He’d kept his adoration to himself, not willing to project his feelings onto her when he wasn’t entirely sure she felt the same way.
She had though.
In the sweetest possible way, she’d whispered those words to him. “I love you, Tate. We were made for each other.”
“And always will be,” he mouthed the words he’d spoken, seeing her image in his mind.
She’d smiled, her cheeks lifting, tiny dimples showing. The sun rose and set in those features. If only he could go back. Change the path. Tweak their outcome.
“Make love to me. Show me you love me, too.”
Her words had filled him with determination. He’d do anything for her, including making the world around them vanish as he devoted his mind, body and soul to her. “I don’t know how I lived without you.”
Sappy dialogue had never been his calling card. Yes, he prided himself on being a gentleman, but it wasn’t until Cassie that he’d truly understood the power words yielded. Over time, the memory of his touch would fade. He could only hope she’d never lose the recollection of the softly uttered endearments he gifted to her.
“You didn’t,” she’d murmured. “You existed. Life didn’t start until there was you and me.”
T.J. brushed his lips over hers, sliding his hands under her shirt. The softness of her body undid him. He liked curves, and Cassie had them in abundance. He lifted her, cradling her in his arms as he strode to their bedroom.
He placed her on her feet and undid the buttons of his shirt. “There’s a present for you in my top drawer.”
Her gaze narrowed, her angelic eyes reading him as her lips curved in awareness. He’d done this before—placed items in his bedside table for her. Always of a sexual nature. Vibrators, dildos, nipple stimulators, anything and everything to improve her enjoyment.
She turned, slid out his top drawer and frowned. “What is it?”
“Take it out and have a look.” Her innocence did funny things to him. He always got a kick out of introducing her to new pleasures, testing her boundaries, awakening her to something different. It was the reason their sexuality had gone too far, too fast. He couldn’t help himself.
“What am I meant to do with it?” She picked up the C-shaped toy between her thumb and forefinger and examined it with a frown.
“The smaller end goes inside you, against your G-spot. The thicker part curls around your pubic bone to rest on your clit.”
She shot him a look, her lips curved in a smirk. “Sounds like a lot of fun for me. Where do you come into all this?”
“I’ll come. Don’t worry about that.” He stepped forward, lifting the flimsy material of her shirt over her head, revealing her sensuous breasts contained in a white lace bra. She lowered her skirt to the ground, gifting him with the exposure of matching panties while her heated gaze ate him up.
“Take off your underwear.”
She inclined her head, lowering her focus in submission. Elegant fingers gripped her waistband, baring more tempting flesh—the trimmed strip of hair at her mound, the glimpse of pussy lips, her thighs, her generous ass.
“The bra, too.”
She raised her brows. “I’m getting there.” Her hands wove around her back, working the clasp before the material fell free and drifted to the floor. “Is that better?”
“You should never wear clothes,” he uttered the truth. Cassie was made for a nudist colony. For the admiring glances from men and women alike.
She hugged her stomach, succumbing to doubt.
“Don’t ever cover yourself.” With a gentle finger, he tapped her wrists in a silent command. “I want this inside you.” He motioned to the toy in her hand and gripped the narrow, thinner end. Slowly, he guided the rounded tip down her body, over her abdomen, straight to the apex of her thighs. “I want to watch you take it from here.”
The tops of her cheeks darkened to the most precious shade of pink. “How do I turn it on?”
“You don’t, my love.” He was confident calling her that now. And always would be. She was his love. His one and only. “Just put it inside that gorgeous pussy of yours and I’ll do the rest.”
She nodded, the slight, almost nervous movement making the protective part of him explode in the need to bring confidence to her actions. She was style. She was grace. She was everything and anything a man like him could wish for. Her inability to see her value or strut around showing it off astounded him.
With her hand still clutching the toy, she crawled onto the bed and rested on her back. He couldn’t tear his gaze away—didn’t want to, never would—as she closed her eyes briefly and slipped the black object into her pussy.
“Perfect.” The word was a whisper through his drying mouth.
“I do try my best.”
There it was, the brief spark, the tiny glimmer of sexual confidence that drove him to madness. She was at home in his bed.
He pulled his phone from the back pocket of his pants and scrolled to the most rec
ently downloaded app. The software that had come with the product allowed him to control the device remotely. From her side, to another state, or even another country, he could initiate her pleasure with the touch of a button. All he had to do was decide whether he wanted to stimulate her G-spot, her clit, or both at once, and at what ferocity.
“Let’s take our time, shall we.” He wasn’t one to rush. He enjoyed building her arousal, stoking her into a craze before allowing her to succumb to bliss. With a quick double-tap, the external stimulator hummed to life, wrenching a gasp from her throat.
“Jesus.” Her eyes widened.
He chuckled as he shucked his pants, leaving them in a heap at his feet. “You like?”
“As always.” The shock left her features, replaced with a sultry, dreamy gleam in her eye. “I still don’t get how you’re going to benefit from this.”
“Your pleasure is my pleasure.” He’d play the selfless card a little longer, until he couldn’t take it anymore. Then he’d inform her the toy and his cock could both easily be accommodated inside her body. He’d make sure of it.
He tapped his phone screen again, twice more on the external stimulation and once for the vibrations to start against her G-spot.
“Oh, holy hell, T.J.” She grasped at the quilt, arching her back, closing her eyes.
One day, he wanted to lay all his gifts out on the bed—the cuffs, the massage oils, the fetish restrains, the anal plug and vibrators. One by one, he’d use them all, sating her to the point of exhaustion before finally taking his own pleasure inside her breathtaking body.
“T.J.?” Cassie began to writhe, her tone foreign. Distorted with lust.
“Hmm?” He smiled down at her, sensing her apprehension, feeling it spur to life underneath his ribcage, because just like her pleasure, her worry was his to own as well.
“T.J.?”
Her voice became distant, her image darkening. Fading. He squinted, blinked and tried to focus back on the heaven before him as it continued to drift away.
“T.J.”
Shit. He snapped out of the memory and frowned up at Shay. She stood beside the light switch, her hair more frazzled than it was moments ago, her brown eyes tired. “Can you help me pack up?”
He shot a glance over his shoulder to the now empty room. Seconds ago, naked bodies had writhed in wanton abandon behind him. The sex swing had been in use, the space filled with chatter and sexual delirium.
He was losing his goddamn mind.
“Yeah.” He cleared his throat and slid from the stool, thankful for the bar that currently hid the dying bulge in his pants. “What needs to be done?”
Shay looked at him, really looked at him. Her brow was furrowed, her mouth set in a tight line. “Where the hell have you been the last three hours?”
He broke eye contact, the uncomfortable shiver of exposure drifting down his spine. “I guess I got caught up in my thoughts.”
“About your wife?” She grabbed a yellow cloth from the counter and began polishing the bar.
“About life in general. I’ve got a lot on my mind.”
He strode for the first private area and flicked on the fluorescent light, not in the mood to talk. The large bed in the middle of the room was mussed, the cushions scattered in varying positions on the mattress and floor. One by one, he picked them up, removing their cloth covers and throwing the material toward the doorway. He didn’t usually partake in cleaning. The contracted business they paid handsomely for privacy’s sake would be here in a matter of hours. He just needed an excuse to keep away from Shay and her questions.
The woman was a pit bull. A beautiful, sassy pit bull who should have her hands full with her new boyfriend Leo, instead of trying to ride T.J.’s ass about his divorce.
“Leo and Brute are on the way down,” she called from the main area. “They want to speak to you before you leave.”
He withheld a sigh and scrubbed both hands down his face. “About?”
“Don’t worry, it’s nothing intrusive.” Her slight frame filled the doorway. “It’s business. My business, actually. I came up with a few ideas for the Vault and they want to speak to you privately about it.”
Damn it. It was God knows when in the early hours of the morning. He didn’t have the brain capacity to think of anything but Cassie. All his mind revolved around were blue eyes, soft curves and a gorgeous smile.
Shay cocked her hip against the door frame. “Can I ask you something?”
No. Hell no. He didn’t want to talk. Not about work or life. Especially not about love. “I’m tired. Can we do this later?”
“I’m worried about you.” Her soft footfalls brushed against the carpet as she strode toward him. “I didn’t realize you were stuck in a bad marriage.”
“I wasn’t stuck.” The need to defend Cassie was instantaneous. Painfully so. “It wasn’t bad either.”
“Then why?” She frowned. “I don’t understand.”
Neither did Leo or Brute, and that was okay. Their perception of his relationship wasn’t important. They were his closest friends, but in contrast, Cassie was his world. The problems that had led to their divorce were private. He wouldn’t betray her, even now when they weren’t together anymore.
“It’s complicated.” He bided his time, yanking the fitted sheet off the bed and balling it before launching it toward the pile of cushion covers near the door.
“That I can understand. Especially when I assume sexuality played an integral role.” She strolled for the bedside table and flicked off the lamp. “But if it wasn’t bad, why the divorce?”
“Presuming anything in this lifestyle and working environment is dangerous, Shay.” His tone was authoritative. Annoyed. Something he didn’t show often. “Misconceptions and thoughtlessness can get you in a lot of trouble.” He knew from experience.
“Okay…” She pulled back in offense and strode for the door. “Point taken.”
Great. Now, he not only felt like shit, he felt like an asshole, too. “Shay, wait.” He jogged after her. “I appreciate your concern, but I’m good. Promise.”
She raised a brow and crossed her arms over her chest. “I was only trying to help.”
The door from the entry creaked open, burying the conversation. At least he hoped so. The sound of heavy footsteps reached them moments before Leo and Brute strode into the main Vault of Sin room.
“Is this a bad time?” Leo asked, his jaw tight, his gaze locked on Shay.
“No. We’re good.” Her tone said otherwise as she sidled up to Leo and placed a kiss on his lips. “I’ll go upstairs so the three of you can talk.” Without another word, she sauntered from the room, closing the door behind her with a harsh clunk.
“Why did she look pissed off?” Leo asked.
“Doesn’t she always look like that?” T.J. rested his hip against the side of the tan leather sofa in the middle of the room.
Brute gave a halfhearted snicker. “Yep. She’s either pissed or up to something. Neither look is comforting.”
“Maybe if you quit giving her hell, she’d quit sharpening her claws.” Leo leaned against the back of the sofa. “Just admit you love riling her.”
“You know what I’d love?” Brute flashed his teeth in a vicious smile. “I’d love to see you and Shay interact without your dick involved. Get a room. Go on vacation. Just keep your lily-white ass outta my face.”
“Jealous much?”
“Fuck y—”
“Come on, guys.” T.J. was too tired for this. “Shay said you have something to speak to me about.”
Leo smirked, claiming victory over the argument.
“Don’t preen like a peacock,” Brute demanded. “Now you’ve gotta explain your crazy girlfriend’s fucked-up ideas for our damn sex club.”
T.J. closed his eyes, letting exhaustion take hold. He didn’t have the strength to participate in this bullshit tonight. He didn’t even have the will to smile.
“Relax.” Leo nudged his shoulder. “It’s
not that bad.”
Brute cleared his throat. “Depends on your perspective.”
“Just spit it out.” T.J. scrubbed a hand along his jaw, across the harsh stubble that reminded him he hadn’t shaved in two days. “What is Shay up to?”
“She had a few ideas to increase attendance in the Vault.”
“The main idea being a dress-up party,” Brute drawled.
“What?” T.J. loved Shay, but people dressing up as Fred Flintstone or Superman was not the type of professional image he wanted for their club. Having girlfriends or lovers involved in the decision-making process of their business wasn’t something he approved of either. That’s why Cassie had always been a silent partner.
“It’s a fucking masquerade party, you idiot.” Leo shot Brute the bird. “It’ll give those who are interested in playing but reluctant to be seen in this type of environment a chance to remain anonymous.”
“I’m listening.” T.J.’s tiredness abated somewhat. The idea could have merit. Maybe. He jerked his chin in Brute’s direction and was immediately pinned by his friend’s scowl. “I gather you’re against the idea.”
“The club has never been about games or playing to me. It’s a lifestyle choice. Either own up to your proclivities, or fuck off and go to another club—one that doesn’t pride itself on integrity and the privacy of all our members.”
The reminder of other clubs made cement solidify in T.J.’s gut. He’d been there, done that. It hadn’t been pretty. “Just because you’re out and proud doesn’t mean everyone else has to be. Some of the people interested in the lifestyle aren’t willing to risk losing family or friends if they’re caught.” He knew that all too well. “And others have their religion and employment to think about.”
“Don’t get me started on religion.”
“Or anything else that doesn’t gain your approval,” Leo muttered.
“So, you are against the idea?” T.J. asked. Brute wasn’t pro anything. He was the glass-half-empty kind of guy. The one who took pleasure in making others fail. He was brutal, thus the nickname.
The Vault Box Set Page 18