BRIELLE
This isn’t you.The little voice niggles at the back of my brain, trying to get me to chicken out, but she can shut right up. I smooth my hands over the slick fabric of my dress. This is the power of good clothes. I feel, and look, like a complete badass, even if my inner wuss is trembling at the thought of what I’m planning.
“Just do it. Jump in. It’s not that scary,” I whisper to myself before straightening my shoulders and stepping through the doors of Club Sin. I have to sign in and acknowledge that I read and understand the rules. Oh, I read them alright. Especially the part about group play, but I’m not sure I have the lady stones for that.
I’m sent through to the lounge, and the sight sucks the oxygen right out of my body. A man—no, a god—stares me down as I walk to the bar. There are other people milling about, sitting at the bar, kissing, and teasing, but his eyes captivate me in a way I can’t explain. He looks almost too big for the armchair he’s lounging in. Sandy hair hangs in his eyes, long on top but shaved tight on the sides.
He’s wearing expensive pants and a dress shirt, but the top buttons are undone, the cuffs rolled up. Tattoos cover his forearms and snake out from under his collar. If a Viking got sucked through a portal and landed in the middle of modern-day Chicago, he’d look like this.
He swirls the glass in his hand, an ice cube clinking against the glass, melting into his whiskey. The movement draws my gaze away from his, but only for a second. His gray eyes are steely and hard when I meet them again, but the unmistakable lust in his expression is what catches me off-guard. It feels strange that he’s not disguising it. He doesn’t look away or pretend he was looking at someone behind me.
No. His eyes meander down my body in a way that makes me think he could tear me apart while making me beg for more. He sips from his glass, and a shiver runs up my spine when I imagine kissing the last hint of whiskey from those lips.
Someone moves next to him, and when my gaze shifts, I wonder how in the hell I could have missed him. His eyes aren’t hard at all. They widen as he takes me in, and his lips quirk up in a smirk that makes my heart backflip like it’s trying to outdo Simone Biles. Holy god is he pretty.
A third man turns to peer at me over the top of his chair. His gaze is more… assessing. And whatever he sees, it’s clearly not for him. He turns his back, but I can feel the other two watching me as I make my way to the bar. I order my drink and try to make my hands stop trembling when the bartender places it in front of me.
This was as far as my plan went. I don’t know what I expected. It’s not like I thought I was going to walk in and be dragged into an orgy the second my heel hit the carpet…. But I also may have underestimated how intimidating this would be.
When I turn around, martini in hand, the three men are gone and my heart sinks just a little. I should have brought a friend, but I don’t have any friends besides Kelly, and something tells me this might not be her bag. I feel awkward standing by myself, so I go exploring.
No one stops me when I get to the elevator bank and press the button to call it. I know exactly where I want to go, what I want to try, even if I’m not entirely sure how to get it.
I get off on the fourth floor, giving my hands a shake. There are other rooms, but the one I want is at the far end of the hallway. Some of the doors are open, some closed, but as I pass each one, gasps and moans follow me, making my core clench and moisture coat my pussy. Maybe I should have worn panties…
The door to Room 30 is cracked, so I place my palm on it, and push it open. I don’t see anyone as I venture inside. Dim light casts just enough illumination to set the mood, and when my eyes fall on the bundles of rope mounted on one wall, my heart stutters. One after another, in rainbow hues. I step up to bundles, running my fingers over one that’s dyed a gorgeous shade of raspberry.
“Well, well…” a voice like dark chocolate and tobacco makes me jump, and I pull my hand back, fast as lightning. When I turn, I’m inches from a familiar face. The second man from the lounge stands before me. He’s shed his jacket and rolled his sleeves up. Up close he’s even more gorgeous than I realized in the lounge. Muscles ripple under his dark skin, and his green eyes are flecked with gold and black. I swallow hard, warmth rolling through me.
“Sorry, I—" I don’t have an excuse, or really even a reason to apologize. But walking in here and touching things feels a little… intrusive.
“For what?” He grins, taking the rope off the wall and holding it out for me to take.
“I don’t know,” I laugh, gingerly taking the bundle and running my fingers over it. “I just didn’t realize there was anyone else in here.”
“You went straight for the rope, no wonder you didn’t see us.”
Us?Right on cue, I spot the two men in the corner, shadows and drapes partially obscuring them. The tattooed bad boy and the unimpressed suit from the lounge are watching us, their eyes unreadable. Something in my chest stutters, making each breath feel forced.
“Settle an argument for us, would you?” he says, running a thumb over his lip thoughtfully. “Are you a rigger, or a riggee?”
“Um…” Words have never failed me like this in all my life, but I can’t think straight. He’s so close I can see the individual strokes of the tattoos on his forearms. “Neither? I’ve never done this. Any of this.”
His eyebrow jerks upward. “Shibari?”
“None of it. I’ve never done anything… kinky, unless you count a weak ass smack on the butt, which I don’t.”
Both of his eyebrows shoot up at that. “You’re new to kink… and you joined Club Sin?”
“Yes,” I say, feeling defensive. “Why the fuck does it matter? I don’t need a reason to be here any more than you or your buddies.”
“Oh, no. I didn’t mean it like that.” His tone is sincere, so I try to lock down the frustration of being questioned before I even get to experience the things I came here for.
“It’s just not how people usually end up here. You’re diving into the deep end on your first day of swimming lessons. It’s ballsy, and I can absolutely appreciate that. I’m Leo.” He holds out his hand, waiting for me to shake it. I switch the rope to my left hand and place my palm in his.
“Bree,” I reply. He repeats my name, letting it roll off of his tongue like something he likes the taste of.
“Well, Bree, if you’re curious, we can show you a bit. With your consent, of course.” Those green eyes search mine like he’s looking for something specific. Or maybe he’s just really into eye contact.