Текст книги "Sinfully Mine"
Автор книги: Kendall Ryan
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Sinfully Mine
Book 2 in the Lessons with the Dom Series
Copyright © 2015 Kendall Ryan
Edited and Formatted by
Pam Berehulke, Bulletproof Editing
Cover design and Photography by
Sara Eirew
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form without written permission of the author, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes only.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Table of Contents
About the Book
Praise for Sinfully Mine
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Epilogue
Author’s Note
Join My Mailing List
About The Gentleman Mentor
Praise for The Gentleman Mentor
Coming Soon
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Other Books by Kendall Ryan
About the Book
She was forbidden.
I didn’t care.
As my best friend’s little sister, Macey Hale was off-limits, but the girl was tempting as sin and forbidden as fuck. I wish I could say that stopped me. I wish I could tell you I behaved like a gentleman.
I didn’t.
When she waltzes back into my life with that same spark I fell for, looking every bit the beautiful woman I knew she’d grow into, I have to force myself to remember I’m different from the man she once knew. I’m colder. Harder. And for good reason.
With my heart on lockdown and my hands aching to touch her, I set out to prove that I can keep myself in check this time.
No strings. No attachments.
And definitely no falling for her again.
Praise for Sinfully Mine
“Sinfully Mine is a panty-melting blend of angst, heartbreak, sex, and romance. Reece is devastatingly sexy, Macey is pure sass, and the story will make you squirm in your seat while craving more. Forbidden love with a twist of BDSM equals heat overload and a whole lot of fanning yourself. For the record, Reece is mine.” – Rachel Brookes, bestselling author of the Breathe series
Chapter One
Reece
She’s standing here as if she didn’t shatter my entire world six years ago.
Blinking my eyes against what I’m sure is a mirage, or maybe too much Scotch, I address the gorgeous woman standing demurely before me. “Macey?”
I’d recognize her anywhere, but this isn’t the girl I remember. I haven’t seen her in years, and she’s grown up. A lot. Her features are sharper, and she’s lost the childlike roundness to her face. Her hair is longer, lighter, and her makeup is perfectly applied. I don’t recall her ever wearing makeup. But mostly it’s the look in her eyes that’s different—as if she’s seen too much of the world and had to cut her own path through it. She’s harder, edgier, wiser . . . but she’s still Macey. And my heart is beating like a fucking drum at the sight of her.
“Hi, Reece.” Her tone is confident, but her body language doesn’t match it. Her eyes are guarded, and her gaze drifts to the floor at my feet.
I fell in love with her when I was nineteen and she was sixteen. I knew it was wrong; she was my best friend’s little sister. But when she lost her parents in a plane crash that year, I was the one she turned to for comfort, and our friendship evolved from there.
Of course, my best friend, Hale, doesn’t know any of this because it ended when she went away to college. It had to. Macey was always destined for more, and leaving was exactly what she needed, even if she took a part of me with her.
Despite the fact that we’re standing in the busy lounge of my BDSM club, Crave, I’m immediately transported back to her quiet, dim bedroom six years ago. I was twenty, with all the wants and needs of a man, and she was just an inexperienced girl of seventeen . . .
• • •
Macey’s panties were wet, and her chest heaved up and down with her quick, shallow breaths.
“Are you sure about this?” I asked her.
“I’m sure,” she said, her voice small but steady.
Her white cotton underwear left little to the imagination, since the now-damp fabric clung to the inviting pink skin beneath. I’d been rubbing her clit through her panties, unwilling to undress her completely because I knew what would happen once I did. Her knees were spread apart, her thin tank top unable to conceal the firm peaks of her nipples. She was beautiful—a lesson in contradictions. Shy but uninhibited; inexperienced yet eager.
She was close, whimpering softly as my fingers worked on her. My cock was so hard it ached, and all the blood pumping south clouded my judgment. Continuing to caress her, I used my free hand to release my belt and open my pants. Taking myself in my hand, I pumped my cock up and down, needing a release so fucking badly it hurt.
Macey and I both released a shuddering breath at the same moment. Her gaze was glued to my jerky movements, and I could feel all her muscles trembling.
“Do you have a condom?” she asked, a slight tremor to her words.
I had two condoms in my wallet, and as much as I wanted her, I was also scared out of my mind. I’d never slept with a woman I loved. Up until this moment, sex had been a meaningless physical act meant to quiet the need raging inside me, nothing more than joyless weekend hookups with girls whose names I wouldn’t recall in the morning.
But Macey wasn’t just the girl I’d grown to love, she was also my best friend’s little sister and a virgin—a combination that was completely off-limits. So why was I in her bed with my cock in my hand?
I didn’t answer her about the condom—not because I couldn’t—but because in that moment, the only thing I wanted was to watch her come. To see her beautiful features as she lost control completely.
As I leaned down to take her mouth, her greedy tongue met mine, sucking hard as she lifted her hips slightly off the bed, pressing herself into my touch. My hand slid up and down my shaft, and I knew I was going to come soon. I kissed a path down her neck to her collarbone, making my way down her body past the dip in her belly until I settled between her thighs.
Lifting the fabric of her panties to the side, I exposed her delicate pink flesh. She was beautiful. I’d always insisted that her panties stay on while we fooled around. It was my one nonnegotiable rule, a small thing to ease my guilt. Macey opened her mouth to protest until she felt my tongue lap at her clit, and then she gave a short whimper and buried her hands in my hair, tugging me closer as her head dropped back on the pillow.
I chuckled against her skin, loving the taste of her. She tasted even better than I could have imagined. And her cunt smelled so fucking good, I wanted to bury myself inside it.
My mouth was everywhere at once, all over her sweetness, lapping up the honey of her virgin pussy, nipping at her clit gently with my teeth, licking her in a steady rhythm over and over as I squeezed the base of my cock so I wouldn’t come . . .
• • •
“Reece?” she asks, drawing me back to the moment.
Fuck.
I want to ask her a million questions. How did she find me? Why is she here? What does she want?
But I’m unable to stop myself from studying her. Her skin looks so soft. I wonder if it’s still lightly perfumed with lavender and honey like I remember. I want to lean close and taste her, but I don’t. Control is everything to me now; it’s all I have. Still, I continue to study her, amazed at the beautiful woman she’s become. Long dark hair flows over her shoulders, leading to a trim waist and the gentle curve of well-rounded hips. Dressed in skinny jeans and tall boots, her shapely legs seem to go on forever.
She crosses her arms under her ample breasts, bringing attention to the fact she has a glorious rack. Dear God. Are those Ds?
“You’ve grown up,” I say, my voice strained as I fight to recover from the effect she has on me.
Noting how my eyes had briefly wandered from hers, Macey smirks. “So have you. Unless my memories are off. How tall are you these days?”
“Six-four.”
“God, it’s been a long time.” She smiles at me, but there’s a faraway sadness in her eyes I don’t like.
“Six years,” I say, even though it wasn’t a question. “Does Hale know you’re here?” It’s funny how my internal thoughts immediately go to him, almost like my subconscious is trying to remind me why I can’t do this. Besides, something tells me her older brother wouldn’t be too happy about her destination tonight. I don’t even know how she found me.
Shaking her head, Macey drops her chin toward her chest. The girl I remember was confident, carefree, and sassy. This version of her is more subdued and serious, totally unlike her.
Using two fingers, I lift her chin to meet my gaze. “Who’s done this to you?”
“What?” she asks, flushed and slightly breathless.
That reaction is to be expected, given our surroundings. Crave is Chicago’s hottest BDSM club. But her reaction to the club isn’t what I’m referring to at all.
“Who’s dimmed that light in your eyes?”
She looks away, not wanting to answer.
That’s the thing about Macey. Even from the time she was a skinny little girl, those huge blue eyes were like two pools of light that swallowed you whole, sucked you into her orbit, and made you feel alive and slightly out of control.
I can’t resist reaching out to touch her again, this time tucking a stray lock of chestnut-colored hair behind her ear. The urge to take her in my arms and hold her tightly flares inside me. And to say I’m not the cuddling type would be a huge fucking understatement. But this is Macey, and I really don’t like seeing her like this. I want to comfort her. It’s that same overwhelming feeling that came over me when her parents died. I just want to fix it.
She inhales sharply at the contact, but her gaze stays on mine. “How about a drink first?”
I nod, placing my hand against her lower back to lead the way toward the bar. After helping Macey onto the only open bar stool, I stand beside her and gesture to the bartender. Macey’s trying to play it cool, but her eyes widen as her gaze darts around the club.
The first floor is relatively tame compared with what she’d find upstairs. Slate-gray velvet couches are interspersed with high-top tables and leather bar stools, places meant for mingling in small groups or more intimate one-on-one connections. The people mingling tonight are a mix of businessmen looking to cut loose, bored housewives eager for an adventure, and sex kittens wanting to experience the real-life alpha males they’ve only read about in popular fiction.
Muted soft grays and deep hues of blue dot the space. Soft fabrics and low lighting are meant to invite you in and get you comfortable. The deep notes of club music thumping in the background create an underlying current of raw sexual energy crackling in the air. I can feel it, and I know Macey can too.
The open floor plan is both sophisticated and sinful, a balance I’ve worked hard to achieve with the help of a designer, and believe me, this place makes good on its promise for hot, discreet sex.
It’s New Year’s Eve in the city, and Crave, as the hottest place to be, is packed tonight. It doesn’t skimp on sleek, elegant décor, pricey liquor, or beautiful people. I should feel proud and elated, but instead my head is still spinning from the scene I just witnessed upstairs. I helped Hale with his new submissive, Brielle, just moments ago. She presented her tight little ass to us at his command, and even with her on display, all I could think about was getting back to Macey. I couldn’t believe when my security staff called me over, pointing to the woman near the door who asked to speak with me. But before I could gather my courage to approach her, Hale called my cell, asking for backup with his scene. Of course I went. He’s my best friend.
All I could think about was Macey during the scene, how Hale’s fucking little sister was out there waiting for me. If anyone tried to pick her up or take her to a private room, so help me, I would rip his arms off and beat him with them. And since that would be bad for business, I was hoping it didn’t come to that.
Hale would freak out if he knew she was here, so I kept things brief and stayed quiet about that fact, playing the part he expected of me before slipping out of the room to return to her. And now that I’m standing with her, I’m speechless once again.
The bar is packed, given that it’s New Year’s Eve, and we watch the bartender filling drink orders and slinging bottles for a couple of quiet moments.
“Why don’t you start out by telling me exactly why you came here tonight?” I ask. Last I knew, Macey had been living in Miami.
“Let me give you a hint.” She leans closer, letting the weight of her generous breasts brush against my chest as she bends close to my ear. “My personal life went to shit, and now I need hot, sweaty sex. I need forget-my-own-name sex.”
The sweet little Macey I remember has left the building, folks.
My cock hardens instantly.
I can’t even blame it on teenage hormones like I could back then. My attraction to her has always been a powerful, dangerous thing, hell-bent on getting me in trouble. I’ve had way too many fantasies of pounding into her tight, hot cunt. I’ve jacked off countless times to that image, as wrong as it is.
Just then, the bartender saunters up and asks what we’re craving, a little tagline my publicity company came up with. All the bar staff and waitresses have been trained to use it.
Having not spent any time with the adult version of Macey, I have no idea what she drinks, so I’m surprised when she orders herself a whiskey, neat. Something in me likes that she’s not a fruity-drink type of girl. Her personality is straightforward and intoxicating, and her drink choice reflects it. It’s a hell of a woman who drinks whiskey straight up, or maybe she’s more thrown off at seeing me than she’s letting on. I sure as fuck am.
Once we’ve settled in with our drinks, her gaze lands on me again. “So it’s true then.”
“What’s true?” I ask before swallowing a mouthful of Scotch.
“That you own this place.”
I give her a nod. No sense in denying it. Besides, I’m proud of what I’ve built for myself. I worked hard to raise enough capital, made some smart investments, and have worked my ass off to make this place a reality.
She bites her lip as she toys with her glass, then brings her gaze back to me. “When I got into town tonight and Cameron wasn’t answering his phone, I Googled you.”
Watching her expression, I’m trying to read her, knowing she’s thinking I never had a penchant for kink when she and I were together. But I’m not explaining the reason why to her. Not now, and hopefully not ever. My way of life has worked for me, and I don’t want to change it. I keep my heart on lockdown, a willing submissive on speed dial, and my dick wet. It’s all good.
Curiosity edges out my better judgment. “How long will you be in town?”
“For good,” she says, surprising me with the defiance in those big blue eyes. “I left my job, left my cheating ex-boyfriend, packed everything I owned, and here I am.”
Damn.
Macey worked as a newscaster for a Latin TV station in Miami. She double-majored in Spanish and journalism in college, earning both degrees ahead of schedule. She’s smart and driven, and ambitious. Which is why it surprises me to hear her say she’s just thrown in the towel on it all.
“I’m sorry to hear that.” It explains the sadness radiating from her that I picked up on earlier. “So, what’s on your agenda now, other than the hot, sweaty pounding you mentioned?”
Looking up at me through her eyelashes, she murmurs, “Why don’t you finish that drink first, and I’ll tell you.”
I don’t know if it’s the alcohol or the erotic atmosphere that has loosened her up, but she’s more carefree now, becoming positively playful. “Are you trying to get me liquored up, Macey?”
“And what if I was?” A slow, sassy smile uncurls on her mouth.
Holy fuck. This girl is going to be trouble; I can tell in an instant. The flirting. The drinks. She’s trying to push me into action. Topping from the bottom.
So Macey wants a big bad Dom to show her the ropes? I should paddle her ass for showing up here tonight. But this can’t be like six years ago where I lose my shit completely, only to have her waltz out of town again when the next opportunity pops up.
Chapter Two
Macey
God, I hate how seeing Reece transports me right back to that shy eighteen-year-old girl I once was—the one who fell hard and fast for her older brother’s best friend, only to have him suddenly end things right before I left for college. Back then, the naive me wanted to tell him everything, to admit the extent of my feelings and then come clean to my brother about my relationship with Reece. I wanted take things to the next level, one that existed in the light of day instead of sneaking around behind closed doors.
Of course, none of that happened because he broke things off before I ever got the chance. The heartache wasn’t as bad as losing my parents, but it was damn close. Reece meant everything to me back then.
I spent my whole first semester at college floating around in a fog. That’s what led me to double majoring. I filled my schedule so completely I had no time to sit around and feel sorry for myself. And I guess it worked because I eventually got over Reece, graduated early and with honors, and then moved on and dated other men. It all felt like I was just going through the motions, but somehow the years passed and I moved on.
But as I look up into his hungry dark eyes, I know none of it is true. Apparently I’ve never really moved on at all, because when things in my life fell apart again, he’s the one I ran to.
I knock back my drink in a single gulp, because heaven help me, I need some brass lady balls for what I’m about to do. It’s a new year and a fresh start for me, and I’m grabbing what I want and running with it. No regrets. Life’s too damn short.
Showing up on New Year’s probably wasn’t my smartest move. Of course, my brother is out somewhere, probably drunk or worse after what that skank of an ex-fiancée did to him. So that left me with staying with either Nana or Reece. And considering I didn’t want to wake up an eighty-year-old woman, I typed Reece Jackson into Google and closed my eyes, praying for a search result and that he was home tonight.
What I got instead shook me to my core. Apparently, twenty-seven-year-old Reece Jackson is the multimillionaire owner of Chicago’s hottest underground sex club. I never would have pegged him for a Dominant, but it makes sense. He’s always been intense and demanding. I just can’t believe Cameron never mentioned it all the times I asked about Reece.
He’s even more devastatingly handsome than I recall. He’s tall, masculine, and extremely fit. His dark hair is cut short, with just enough to grab onto. He still has the features I remember, but now they seem more refined. Some things are definitely new, though. Dark tattoos hidden behind the sleeve of his shirt, circling his wrist, suggest a sleeve decorating his arm. I want to see more. He never had a single tattoo when I knew him. He’s the man I measured all others against, and the reason no one has ever measured up.
Reece lifts his drink to his mouth and looks at me over the rim of the glass. I know he’s noticed me checking him out, but he doesn’t call me out. “You want to talk about the ex-douche?” he asks, his voice a harsh growl.
“Tony?” I snort. “Not particularly.”
“Humor me, Pancake. I need to understand this.”
I let out a deep sigh. I haven’t heard that name in years. He’s called me Pancake since that one morning in my parents’ kitchen when, in my overexcitement of watching a sleep-rumpled Reece lumber down the stairs, I dropped the mixing bowl on the floor, sending gooey batter flying in every direction.
Reece didn’t even falter. He walked straight up to me, wiped a smear of batter off my cheek, and brought it to his mouth. “Mmm. Banana?”
I merely nodded, frozen in place. Banana chocolate chip pancakes were his favorite back then, and I made them every chance I got.
He bent down to pick up the bowl and cleaned up while I started a new batch. We worked as a good team, even back then. And I’m wondering if we still do.
“Macey? The ex?” Reece interrupts my little daydream. “Is there someone’s ass I need to fly down to Florida to kick?”
Just thinking about Tony agitates me. Having to actually talk about him makes me boiling angry.
Reece signals the bartender. “Another of those?” he asks, reading my mood.
I give him a tight nod. “Might help.”
The busty redheaded bartender wearing a leather corset gives Reece a flirty wink, then sets the drink down in front of me with an unceremonious thud. I don’t want to explore the flash of jealousy that surges through me.
Reece is still watching me, still waiting for me to answer.
I take a small sip, appreciating the bite of the liquor as it sinks all the way to my belly and warms me. “We dated for nine months. He was between jobs much of that time, and so he moved in with me about six months ago. Last week I came home from work early and caught him banging the living daylights out of our landlord, Pinky.”
“Is Pinky a man or a woman?” he asks.
“Does it matter?” I press my lips together.
“Not really.” He shrugs. “I’m just trying to follow along.”
“Pinky is a fifty-eight-year-old woman.” There’s nothing like a slap to the face or your self-confidence than finding your boyfriend balls deep inside a grandmother. Fuck my life.
“Damn, Macey.” Reece shakes his head. “You’re beautiful and sexy, and deserve much more than that. I’d say you dodged a fucking bullet with that guy. He’s obviously a total fuckwit.”
I smile, despite myself. Maybe it’s being in the presence of Reece, or maybe it’s the liquor, but I’m feeling better than I have in days.
“Yeah. I’m just ready to move on.” And it’s the truth. I wasn’t in love with Tony, but we lived together and were in a committed, monogamous relationship, or at least I was. But that’s over now.
“And your job?” he asks.
“The station was downsizing. I saw the writing on the wall.” I shrug.
“And so you’re here.”
“I am.” I don’t know if he means here as in Crave, or here as in Chicago, but doubt creeps in. “I’m sorry I just showed up like this. My intention was to go to Cam’s for the night. Figure out my next move after that. But it’s New Year’s and I wasn’t thinking. Of course, he’s not home. I’m sure he’s out on the town.”
“He’s upstairs, actually.”
Shock slams into me. “He’s here?”
“Uh . . .”
I’ve never see Reece speechless before, but several minutes of awkward silence follow before he manages a response.
“Shit. I shouldn’t have assumed you knew about his membership here.”
“He’s a member?” I can’t even. My straitlaced attorney of a brother is into BDSM? What in the actual fuck?
“Dammit.” Reece curses under his breath before signaling the big-breasted bartender for another. “Yeah. Sorry to burst your innocence bubble.”
I take a deep, calming breath, realizing I’ve been staring at him with wide eyes and a look of shock frozen on my face. “Actually, that’s what I’m hoping you’ll help me with.”
“What’s that?”
With my pulse pounding and my hands trembling, I pull back my shoulders and look straight into his eyes. “Six years ago, you stopped things before we got to the main event.”
He licks his lips. Lips that are full and demanding, yet soft. Lips that once did wicked things to my body. “It was the right thing to do.”
Although I disagree, I don’t argue because I’m thinking over my strategy. I’m no quitter. I’ve lusted after Reece Jackson for at least a decade, and now I’m single and living in the same city as him again. After the hell Tony put me through, it’s time to have some fun. I didn’t expect to learn Reece owned a BDSM club, but if I’m honest, I have to admit it only makes me more curious. When in Rome . . .
He’s always been that unobtainable older guy—my brother’s best friend—and now the knowledge that he knows his way around a toy box only has my body humming that much more. The memories of our years together haunt me; we still have unfinished business.
I set out to prove to him that I would make something of myself after he cast me aside. But all roads led right back to where I started. Reece. I can’t help but remember the night I almost lost my virginity—or rather, my failed attempt at it.
Him with a large bulge in his pants. Me with my panties pulled to the side while I fingered myself, trying to tempt him. The pained expression on his face as he watched.
I ache just thinking about it. I felt rejected and ridiculous. Shit, I still do. All of it rushes back through me like it was just yesterday. It’s time to let go of the past and make some new memories.
Glancing around the club, I take in its secretive, sexual allure, and the desire to be a bit reckless nudges at me. I meet Reece’s eyes as the familiar powerful chemistry crackles between us. “I’m here because I want to experience this.”
“What exactly do you want to experience?” he asks, his eyes narrowing.
“You tell me, you’re the Dom.” I fight off a sassy smile, trying not to taunt him. “I told you. I’ve just come out of a less-than-ideal situation, and all I want is sex—no, good sex—and a few orgasms to forget my own damn name.”
“And how does this involve me, Macey?”
My heart sinks a little. I’ll admit, this is random. I get that. I haven’t seen or spoken to Reece in years. But he owns a sex club. Clearly there’s no better man for the job.
“You own a sex club, for fuck’s sake. Are you really going to be a prude about this?”
He stiffens and leans back a little. “Excuse me if I’m a little fucking thrown off, Pancake. I haven’t seen you in what, six years? And now you just expect me to whip out my flogger and spank you?”
I chew on my lip. Now we’re talking. “Or your cock,” I suggest helpfully.
“I need to talk to Hale.”
My eyes widen, and I snort out a nervous laugh. “You’re going to discuss this with my brother? Are you insane?” He’s always called Cameron by our last name. Most of his close friends do, in fact. But discussing this with my brother is not a fucking good idea.
He smirks, and damn if it isn’t sexy. “Probably a little, but we’re doing things different this time.”
Why is it that any reference to our history sends a little stabbing pain through my chest? That needs to stop. “Different how?”
“We’re playing by my rules.” His fist tightens at his side, making the veins stand out on his tattooed forearm.
As I study him, taking in the stiffness to his shoulders and the hard set of his jaw, I realize this Reece is a different man from the one I remember. He’s forceful and edgier with a new intensity simmering just under the surface. It makes me want to peel back each and every layer, and discover all I’ve been missing.
To be fair, I’ve changed a lot too. I’ve learned a lot these past few years while building a career and making a name for myself. Mostly, I learned that confidence is the key to getting what you want. I’d used the mantra fake it ’til you make it more than once at my job back in Miami. And now it seems I need to use it to land Reece too.
This time around I’m going to be the one taking what I want. No cheating ex or crappy job is going to tell me good-bye. I’m going to take my pleasure and ride the wave of my naughtiest adventure all the way to Screaming Orgasmville. First stop: How to Become a Submissive 101.
Reece interrupts my thoughts, softening his voice. “How about a tour of the club?” He tips his head toward the lounge. “If you’re still interested after you know what you’d be getting into, then we’ll talk.”
Given that I’ve only seen the entrance and now the bar, of course I’m curious about this place I’ve found myself in. “Sure.”
Taking one last swig of my drink, I leave the glass at the bar and follow his lead.
His hand comes to rest against my lower back, just above my butt, sending tingles zipping up and down my spine. In my skinny jeans and simple cotton tunic, I’m way underdressed compared to the other women here. From another perspective, I may be overdressed given that most of the women are parading around in body-hugging cocktail dresses or skimpy lingerie, leaving little to the imagination. But having the undivided attention of the best-looking man in the place makes me feel like a goddess.
Reece guides me away from the bar and toward a staircase. As we climb the stairs to the second floor, my belly dances with nerves. Maybe he’s right; maybe I won’t like what I see here and I’ll run away. Part of me thinks that’s exactly what he wants. I can’t let that happen.
Upstairs is a long hallway with several rooms on either side. Reece walks slowly in front of me and I follow, hating how my gaze keeps dropping to his incredibly tight butt. Focus, Macey.
A peek inside the first room only serves as a reminder that I shouldn’t have left my whiskey at the bar. Because, holy shit, there’s a naked woman strapped to a table. A man and a woman are leaned over her, each sucking on a breast while another man uses a large handheld massager on her fun bits as he strokes himself.
Fucking A! I didn’t know clubs like this really existed, that people like this really existed. I spend most Saturday nights with a pizza and my remote—thank you, Netflix—and apparently I am really freaking sheltered.
“You okay?” Reece’s voice is low and calm, as if he’s completely unaffected by the orgy happening just three feet from us.
The scent of sex in the air makes me dizzy, and I can practically feel the hum of the vibrator, as though it’s being used on me. Straightening my shoulders, I fix my best sultry expression on my face. “Absolutely fine.”
Pretending that I’m not completely thrown off, and geez, kind of horny, I follow him farther down the hall, wondering what else is in store for me.
Next up is a medical exam room where a woman is probing a man who’s lying on the table, his feet in the stirrups. I probably didn’t need to see that. Quite a role reversal, though, and I appreciate that. Ten points for creativity. Next we watch two women who role-play a scene that involves spanking with a little whip thingy. My breath catches in my throat.
