Obviously she accepts I will not let this go until she answers me. “I guess I just…” Her cheeks flush and she looks away from me. “You didn’t spank me or anything.”
I can only stare at her in surprise. The kinky sex…she remembers how I used to take her, and obviously she has missed it, wishing I would have given her that tonight. My pride likes that a lot.
I rise, grabbing my pants from my ankles. “Get dressed.”
She sits up quickly. “What? Where are we going?”
I grasp her chin, locking her into my sights. “If you want something, Taylor, ask me for it. You want it dirty?”
She pauses, clearly embarrassed. “Yes,” she eventually whispers.
“Then come on.” I grin boldly at her. “Let’s go be filthy.”
Taylor
An hour later, I’m holding Darius’s hand as he’s leading me through a well-lit underground tunnel that we accessed through a secured door located off the parking garage at
Bennett, Inc. “Is this where you tell me that you’re actually a serial killer and you’re leading me to my death?” I muse.
Darius glances at me, eyes amused. “No.”
I look around at the circular cement surrounding us. “You know, it’s a good thing I trust you so much, or I’d be really freaked out right about now.” Okay, maybe I am a little freaked out.
“But you do trust me”—he squeezes my hand a little harder now, tugging me forward to keep up with his fast pace—“so this conversation is pointless.”
Of course he’s right. I stuff back the rest of my questions until I see another secured door at the end of the long tunnel. “Wait. You’re CIA, right?”
Darius shakes his head and laughs, pressing his thumb against the fingerprint security scanner beside the door. “Darius Bennett,” he says, instead of answering my question.
My attention is drawn away from him when the door clicks open and he steps into the room. The soft lighting turns on, and I slowly enter behind him, unable to fully process what I’m seeing.
Floggers hang perfectly on the wall, along with whips, canes, crops. “Where in the hell have you taken me?” is the only thing I can think of to ask.
“This is where I play,” Darius says behind me.
I look from the wooden X to the bench to the chains hanging from the wall. “Where are we? Your house?”
“We’re at a sex club I own called Masquerade.”
I glance over my shoulder, finding him resting against the door, arms folded. “You own a sex club?”
He nods. “For many years now, but I’m more of a silent partner than management.”
“Oh, okay, cool,” is what my brain can manage to come up with.
I’m trying to process all this, but my mind is spinning. Darius had always been kinky when we were together. I loved that about him. Hell, tonight on the car I wanted to see that side of him. I loved that side. I thought of that power many, many times over the years I’d been without him. He liked his sex dirty, and I liked being on the receiving end of that dirtiness. But apparently, Darius has taken his kinky desires to a whole new level since we split up.
A sex club? Whoa.
On one hand, I begin to wonder if this is what Allie was trying to tell me. I get the feeling she knows about this place and what Darius does here. On the other hand, I don’t want to know how she knows that information about him.
I lift my chin, pretending that I’m not way in over my head and move into the middle of the room, spotting the leather collars hanging on the wall. I go there, stroking my fingers over the cool metal ring on the thick leather. “Do you come here a lot?” I ask in an attempt to get my bearing.
“Not anymore, no.”
“Why?” I continue moving around the room, running my fingers along the black tufted leather chaise below the bundles of black rope hanging on the wall.
“I’ve played in here more times than I’m sure you want to know. It’s grown”—he pauses, obviously choosing his words carefully—“I’ve grown tired of what I get out of this room.”