The Vault Box Set

by Summers, Eden

  “Take your hand off me,” she grated.

  It wasn’t easy to play an unfamiliar role. It took balls. Large ones. And the man she needed required cojones the size of a rhino, not a mouse.

  “I’m sorry.” His hand fell, his balk of regret reigniting her frustration. “I was only trying to—”

  “I know.” She pasted on a smile, determined to fight her bitchy attitude into submission. “And I appreciate the attempt.”

  It wasn’t his fault she was already edgy from the impending sexual sobriety. She needed to remove her toxic attitude from this place of bodily worship and cut her losses. More hours here would only increase her resentment. She wasn’t a bitter old hag. Not entirely. But soon she might be if she didn’t stop feeling sorry for herself and move on.

  She squeezed his wrist in apology and strode through the main Vault room, giving half-hearted grins to the patrons who looked at her in pity. She didn’t fit in with this crowd. A world she’d once dominated was now foreign. She’d become a pauper in a place where orgasms were currency—at least where receiving was concerned.

  When she reached the seclusion of the locker room, defeat set in. She’d come so far from the missionary-position woman she’d been before Lucas. Now she’d fallen from carnal grace. Sex was no longer exciting. Her seven-day-a-week habit had died from starvation, and all she could do was move on. Bury the craving, like she’d buried her husband.

  “Goddamn you.” She opened her locker door and slammed it shut again. The loud bang reverberated through her, hitting her chest, her heart. The threat of tears returned. Angry, scornful tears making the room blur.

  She’d thought she’d done everything right. She hadn’t jumped into the Vault experience with gusto. Her steps had been slow. Over unending months, she became the ultimate voyeur, not touching another man until she was ready—mind, body, and soul. Then one after another, the club regulars had failed her, leaving unfulfillment to run rampant, all because her husband’s prowess was irreplaceable. “Damn you, Lucas.”

  “Hey.”

  She stiffened at the sound of Shay’s voice and hoped the woman would let her be. “Can you give me a minute?”

  “That depends. Are you going to continue destroying Vault property if I leave you alone?” The sound of softly swishing fabric encroached. “What’s going on?”

  Pamela inhaled deep and turned to Shay, taking in the beauty of a woman who couldn’t possibly understand what was going on in her addled mind.

  “You look gorgeous. As always.” It was a side-step. An optimistic diversion. Chatting about the seductive red dress clinging to the bartender’s breasts and flowing into a sexy skirt at her thighs was better than the alternative.

  “Thank you. Leo seems to enjoy the easy access.” Shay gave herself a once-over before meeting Pamela’s gaze. “Now, spill. What’s got you slamming lockers and looking like the world’s coming to an end?”

  Pamela kept her mouth shut, scared of what would come out if her lips parted. Words built in her throat, clogging the small space, the pressure increasing. Venting wasn’t an issue. She could share her hardships with her sister tomorrow. Even her mother, if she was truly desperate. But they didn’t fully understand her cravings. Her sexuality. Sharing with Shay, a woman who knew this way of life, would be different. And the thought of having her worst fears confirmed wasn’t something she could handle right now.

  “Come on, Pamela.” Shay stepped forward, her gentle eyes coaxing. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

  The need to purge grew. The truth cut off her air supply until she opened her mouth and words tumbled out. “Everything. I can’t do this anymore. I need to give up before it kills me.”

  “Take a deep breath, honey, and tell me what happened.”

  “Nothing happened.” Pamela swung back to her locker, pulled out her loose black skirt, and yanked it up her thighs. “The same nothing that happens every time I come here.” She shoved her tank top into the handbag sitting in the back of the locker, unfazed by walking out of here with her lingerie on display. God knew the people dancing upstairs would be wearing far less. “Please tell Leo I want to cancel my membership. You won’t see me here again.”

  “Okay… I can tell him.” Shay leaned forward, inching her way into Pamela’s sight. “But before I do, can you elaborate? I’ve seen you with different men, so your comment about ‘nothing happening’ is throwing me.”

  “I mean, nothing happens for me.” She waved a hand to encompass her body—the breasts that never tingled from a man’s touch, the pussy that didn’t throb in arousal. “In all the time I’ve been here, and all the men I’ve slept with, I haven’t orgasmed once. Not even a tiny bit. Not even close.” She reached for her shoes and dropped the one-inch black heels at her feet. “I’m only kidding myself if I keep coming back.”

  “Didn’t Leo set you up with someone a while ago?” Shay frowned. “Yeah. It was my first night down here, and he was playing the role of instructor. Didn’t that work out?”

  “That was the first time I’d been with anyone since my husband.” She yanked her handbag from the locker and pulled the strap over her shoulder. “I faked my way through it, thinking that was necessary to get into the swing of things. Turns out, I’ve had to fake it ever since.”

  Shay slumped onto the bench seat in the middle of the room. “Maybe it’s too soon for you to move on.”

  “It’s been three years.” For others, the timeline of grief was infinite. Not for her, though. She’d been primed to move on for a long time. “I’m ready. The problem is finding the right person.”

  “Is there something in particular you’re looking for? Is it aesthetic appeal? Are the men not your type? Or do you have a specific kink?”

  “I know exactly what I want.” A carbon-copy of her husband, at least where the sex was concerned. “I want a man who will take me over and control my pleasure. Someone who knows what I want before I want it and doesn’t mistake his cockiness for finesse.” She sighed and let her tired shoulders sag as she slumped onto the bench beside Shay. “Sorry for the hysterics. I guess frustration finally has the better of me.”

  “Is that all it is? Frustration?”

  Yes…

  Maybe…

  No.

  She stared down at her glossy shoes, the past reliving itself in her mind. “I wasn’t married to Lucas for long. We didn’t even reach our one-year anniversary. And in that time, he completely changed my sex life. He made me aware of a sexuality I never knew I had. But I didn’t realize it was exclusive to our relationship. I thought the physical connection would be replaceable. Maybe not to the exact degree of what we had. I only hoped for something similar. Instead, I’m losing faith in ever finding the part of myself that made me feel most alive.”

  It sounded pathetic. How could sex be such a significant piece of her? It was only physical exertion, right?

  Wrong.

  The act was so much more. She needed to be seen without having to wave her arms in the crowd. She wanted to be heard without words. She longed for someone to know her. Yet, she wasn’t sure she knew herself anymore.

  “Would you trust me to hook you up with a guy who might be able to help?” Shay leaned in and rested her head on Pamela’s shoulder.

  “I think I’m too far gone. I used to be able to orgasm with the flick of my husband’s fingers. Now men need to have mastered the Kama Sutra and bear the scratches of a thousand pleasured virgins before I give them the time of day.” She released a half-hearted chuckle. “I’m high maintenance.”

  “The person I have in mind would see that as a challenge.”

  “I’ve been with most of the available men at the Vault.”

  “You haven’t been with him. I’d know.” Shay stood and rubbed her hands together. “I have a really good feeling about this. All I need is five minutes to make it happen.”

  “It’s too late. I’m…” An old widow? A born-again virgin? A broken soul?

  “In a slump. That’
s all.” Shay started for the door, her face bright with optimism. “And I’m convinced Brute will be the perfect match for you.”

  Chapter Two

  Bryan Munro tugged the under-age piece-of-shit through the club by the collar. Standards of Practice could kiss his ass. There was no way he was letting this fucker walk out without being manhandled. If you were cunning enough to pass the bouncer inspection and sneak inside the Shot of Sin nightclub illegally, the last thing you wanted to do was draw attention to yourself by grabbing the first pair of tits that passed your way.

  “Come back here and I’ll show you what it feels like to be sexually assaulted.” He shoved the kid through the open front doors. When the prick righted himself without falling to the pavement, the disappointment was real. “Believe me, some days I miss being in jail. Making you my bitch would bring back memories.”

  It was a lie. All lies. But the wide eyes of the teen were well worth the pretense.

  The bouncer on the door chuckled. “You definitely live up to your nickname, Brute.”

  “I do.” He jerked his chin toward the club. “And if I find anyone else in there who’s underage, you’ll find out just how brutal I can be.”

  The guy straightened. “Sorry, boss.”

  “You should be.” Bryan and his business partners, T.J. and Leo, didn’t have time for this lazy bullshit. The adjoining Taste of Sin restaurant was being slammed nightly with eager walk-ins willing to beg for a table when the already extended dining hours couldn’t keep up with reservations. And Vault of Sin downstairs always came with a heavy dose of drama. He didn’t need Shot of Sin to add legal issues with underage drinkers to his list.

  “I’ll be more thorough.” The bouncer crossed his arms over his chest, his lips thin, his frown deep. A picture of clichéd security.

  “Make sure you are.” Bryan strode back into the club, his bad luck increasing when he sighted Shay leaning against the entry hall in her tempting thigh-high dress. Leo’s girlfriend was not only a thorn in his side, but a fucking pinecone up his ass. If he didn’t know better, he’d assume her life’s mission was to turn him gray. And she was succeeding. “What do you want, wench?”

  Her lips quirked as she pushed from the wall. “I need to borrow your cock for a minute.”

  He raised a brow and came up beside her, stopping close. “You’ve finally realized I’m a better option than Leo?”

  Her smile turned coy, those long brown eyelashes batting up at him. “Not even close.” She pivoted on her toes and sauntered toward the dancing bodies, crooking a finger over her shoulder. “Come on.”

  He growled and followed, pretending he didn’t appreciate the way his sexy subordinate ordered him around. She led him through the thick crowd to the Vault entry, guarded by a lone member of security.

  “Why are we going downstairs?” He raised his voice over the thud of music. “I’m supposed to be watching the bar tonight.”

  “Stop bitching. The staff can do their job without you breathing down their neck for a while.” She pulled open the door and disappeared into the darkened stairwell.

  He gave the security guard a dubious look and contemplated what lay ahead. The barely controlled twitch of the guy’s mouth announced loud and clear that the hell-raiser of the club was likely to shank him with a steel dildo once he was in seclusion. “If I don’t come out within twenty minutes, call Leo for help.”

  “Will do.”

  Bryan strode inside and pushed the door shut behind him. With the click of the latch, the club music disconnected, the soundproofing replacing the loud beat with static. “Hold up.”

  The eager way Shay bounced down the steps toward the private sex club increased his apprehension. She was excited about something.

  Something that involved his dick.

  “Shay,” he grated, unmoving. “What’s going on?”

  She turned to him, the overhead lights shining down on her with a heavenly glow that didn’t fool him in the slightest. “There’s a woman who needs your help.”

  “Help? Are we talking about a maintenance problem or a woman-wants-to-get-laid issue?”

  He had no problem with the former. The latter was entirely different. Apparently, he’d earned a name for himself within the sordid walls of the club. A name that had him at the front and center of every woman’s spank bank.

  “This situation leans more toward the latter,” she said in a rush. “But hear me out.”

  He glared. “You know my position on this.”

  “I know. I know. But this is different. You haven’t been with her before. It won’t break any of your precious rules. She’s also not the clingy type.”

  He’d assumed the same about the majority of women who visited the Vault. Unfortunately, he’d been proven wrong time and time again. No matter how brutally honest he was with his intentions, they always expected more from him once he effortlessly pushed them over the line of orgasmic bliss.

  “I’m not the helping type. You should ask Leo or T.J.”

  She shook her head. “I’m not willing to share Leo. And T.J. is far too sweet for this role.”

  He trudged toward her, the enthusiastic glow in her eyes lessening with each step he took. “What role, exactly?”

  “I need you to work your magic on someone who’s having trouble in the orgasm department.”

  His frown was an adequate response.

  “Don’t look at me like it’s a hardship.” She swung around and continued bounding down the stairs. “Hurry up.”

  “Wait.” Shay knew better than to play matchmaker, which meant curiosity now had him by the balls, pushing him to catch up to her at the bottom landing. He grabbed the crook of her arm and encouraged her to stop. “Why can’t someone else handle it?”

  “She’s tried everyone. Nobody succeeded.”

  “Then tell her to come back next time the Vault is open. There’s always fresh meat to sample.”

  “She’s been attending for months. Probably years. She’s ready to cancel her membership.”

  “Then maybe that’s for the best.”

  Shay’s expression morphed from hope to anger. “Don’t be such a selfish prick. I know you’ve got what it takes.”

  “I don’t doubt it. But I’ll repeat—I’m not the helping type.”

  “Then consider it a challenge. Leo told me you have plans to organize a development night focused on women’s pleasure. This would be a great test to your skills.”

  “I don’t need to be tested, sunshine.”

  “I disagree.”

  The corner of his lips twitched. “Then drop those panties and allow me to demonstrate.”

  Her laughter was light and infectious. That was the problem with Shay—she made him feel different, less abrasive, when he much preferred to remain distant and caustic.

  “You know that’s not going to happen. But I will encourage you to prove yourself with this chick. Every other man here is incapable of making her climax. I’m sure you could outline her problems in some sort of case study and make this the perfect opportunity to show patrons you’re fit to teach.”

  He leaned in, his face inches from hers as he smirked. “I’ve seen you watching me down here. You know I’m fit to teach.”

  “Pleasuring innumerable women who are already primed from the Vault atmosphere isn’t a valid indication. I doubt you’d have the same results with someone who’s highly specific in her needs and no longer wants to be here.”

  “Highly specific?”

  “She wants to be controlled. To be mastered. She doesn’t want to draw a road map for every guy who gets between her thighs.”

  He straightened, trying to fend off the catnip piquing his interest.

  She narrowed her eyes and grinned. “Come on. You know you want to. It’s a trifecta. You get to pleasure a beautiful woman during work hours. You’ll gain a great case-study for your class, while also proving you’re the most talented man in the club.”

  The title wasn’t up for debate. />
  “Please.” She clasped her hands together and raised them to her chest—begging with an added hint of cleavage persuasion. “Do this for me.”

  “I won’t make any promises. I need to meet her first.”

  She nodded and walked backward until she reached the locker room doorway. “Bryan, I’d like you to meet Pamela.”

  Pamela?

  Fuck.

  He didn’t need to step forward to see what she looked like. A gorgeous blonde with ample curves and deep brown eyes. He’d been drawn to her the moment he’d double-clicked the membership photo that slid into his inbox.

  Then he’d read her name, and all interest had vanished like condoms at a frat house.

  “Brute,” Shay warned. “Hurry up and get in here.”

  He glared as he walked through the doorway and watched the blonde beauty stand from the bench in the middle of the room. Her limited clothing showed off a figure that hadn’t changed since her induction. The dark navy corset clung tight, the breast cups supporting a lush chest while the waist curved to promote a perfect hourglass. She met his feral stare momentarily, then just as quickly, she lowered her gaze.

  Submission.

  Nice.

  Usually, the women in the Vault were overly eager. Bright eyes. Visually defiling stares. The type who expected more from him than he ever planned to give. Rarely was there an opportunity to be with someone less enthusiastic. Sometimes it felt like he only had to blink in the wrong direction and the females started to take off their panties.

  Not that he could blame them. He had sexual groupies for a good reason.

  He cleared his throat, the deep sound a test to how she’d respond. And just as quickly as her gaze fell, she straightened her shoulders and met him with a narrowed stare, taunting him.

  Interesting.

  Her defiance conquered the desire to submit.

  Maybe she wasn’t the easily boxed woman he’d initially thought.

  “Have the two of you spoken before?” Shay hovered in the doorway, one shoulder resting against the frame.