No, because I’m a founding member, I get to bring guests, because they trust me not to bring someone unfit into their establishment. They know I will uphold all the rules of Club Alias and not take advantage of my privileged standing with the guys, or it’d be an immediate loss of membership. And there was no way in fuck that’d happen. This is my own personal “happiest place on earth.”
I open the unmarked, blacked out door and lead her up the stairs that greet us, making sure to watch her face as the club comes into view the higher we climb. Her expression doesn’t disappoint. Her eyes widen, her jaw drops prettily, and she takes in her surroundings with a look of wonder on her beautiful face.
Directly in front of us is a wide dance floor framed by luxurious leather booths. There are a couple bars with stools, where they serve every drink one could ever think of. Just above the booths, which have high backs for privacy, you can see the top of each private room. A few have their curtain drawn, but the glow of the open rooms beckons me to take Kayan into one and have my way with her.
“Do you want a drink first?” I ask her, and she looks up at me.
“Nah, I think I’m okay. I had the one glass of wine with dinner, and it didn’t set very well, so I think I’ll stay away from any alcohol tonight,” she replies, and my brow lowers.
“Do you feel okay? If your stomach is upset, we can come back another time. Maybe on the way back from our trip to South Carolina?” I suggest. I don’t want anything ruining her first time here. I don’t want her to look back and only be able to remember that she felt like shit.
“Oh no, I’m fine, Z. That’s why I chugged all that water before we left the restaurant. I promise I’m perfect,” she assures, and I can’t help the grin that spreads across my face.
“You’re damn right about that, kitten.”
She blushes and smacks my chest, shaking her head at me. “So what do you want to do first?” she asks, and her eyes move to a couple making out passionately in one of the booths. A moment later, another woman joins the couple, and as she takes off her shirt, Kayan’s face flames once more and her eyes jerk to me. She looks relieved when she sees I only have eyes for her. “Hopefully not that,” she murmurs.
“Never that. I’d never share you, not with a man nor a woman. You’re all mine, Kayan. I mean that.” I raise her hand to my lips and press a long kiss to her knuckles, watching her face go soft. I love that this is her reaction now, unlike before, when she seemed like she wanted to rebel against my claim on her. “I’d really like to show you what one of the private rooms is like. You game?”
“Most definitely,” she purrs as my kiss moves from her knuckles to nibbling the tip of each finger.
I turn to lead her to Private Room #4, my personal favorite, when I almost run into someone, his arms crossed over his wide chest, black Henley pulled tight. But it’s the mask he wears—a black leather executioner’s hood—that’s more ominous than anything.
“And who do we have here?” His deep voice resonates from behind the mask, and immediately, my entire body relaxes as a smile splits my mouth.
“Sarge,” I say, and I stretch out a hand. I hear his chuckle as he takes it and pulls me into a hug with a loud slap to my back. When we step back, my arm circles Kayan’s waist. “Sarge, let me introduce you to my woman. Kayan, this is my buddy from the military I was telling you about. While we’re here, you’ll notice most people wear masks in order to keep their identities secret. We have to use his Dom name, Sarge, while we’re here as well.”
“N-nice to meet you,” she stutters, obviously thrown off by the hood. But still, she reaches her hand out and shakes his just as a very pregnant woman steps up beside him. Her mask is intricate and sparkling, the silver metal gleaming in the lights swirling around the dim dance floor. Corbin’s arm wraps around the small of her back and pulls her into his side.
“Zar, you remember Vi?” my friend prompts, and I have to keep my own jaw from dropping. The last time I’d spoken to my friend, they were divorced after a pretty heartbreaking split. But if the look of possessiveness and infatuation on Vi’s face are anything to go by, not to mention the round belly Corb was now stroking with his palm, they’d gotten a second chance at their life together.