Chapter Eleven – Giselle
There was a different feeling in the air tonight, even here in the Playground. I’d donned a red mask, and I stalked the main room of the club, waiting, watching. Maybe it was because things were a little different for me now that I was able to taste the sweat and the sex in the air. Maybe it was because my blood still ran hot from today’s events. Who could say? All I knew was, I needed something. A release, a temporary respite, a way to forget.
I needed something I could never truly have, but getting some dick at the Playground was second best.
I couldn’t say how long I stalked the main room, nor could I say how many times men—and women—had come up to me, asking me to join their games. It felt like an eternity, but time seemed to be a strange thing in here. I told them all no, of course. There was only one person I wanted to see in here.
Call me delusional, call me hopeful and stupid, but I was itching to see the man with the dragon tattoo on his chest, the one who’d helped remind me that touching someone else didn’t have to be painful. It could feel good. I could let go, lose myself to pleasure, and be someone else, if just for the night.
That’s what I wanted. To be someone else. Not Miguel Santos’s heir, not his named heir for his bid at the Black Hand position. I wanted to be myself, not the person he’d built me up to be.
But, alas, for all that time I spent wandering the main room, looking for the dragon man, I didn’t see him. I knew I shouldn’t feel disappointed; it was just sex. There was no need to be with the same man, but… there was something about him that made me feel as if we were connected. I’d all but told him my past encounters hadn’t been wanted on my part, and he’d been a gentleman through it.
Commanding, if somewhat of an ass, but still gentlemanly. I couldn’t help but want him again. Was that really so wrong?
I didn’t know his name. I didn’t know who he was. Hell, he might not even show up here tonight. It didn’t sound like he frequented the place every night. Still, a part of me hoped desperately that he would miraculously pop up and appear. He was a stranger, yes, but familiar to me now, and it was that distant familiarity that I wanted.
I stood off to the side of the main room, near the couches facing the stage. A group of three had taken to the stage, already naked, ready to put on a show. One woman with two men, and both men were very well endowed. That woman definitely had her hands full—or, you know, other body parts.
In a perfect world, simply being at the Playground would calm me down, but it didn’t. I didn’t feel any calmer now than I did when I’d first walked in here. The only thing that would calm me, I knew, was the dragon man.
Maybe I read the signs wrong, but it felt like my lower half was hotter than my top, my thighs squeezing together not because I was watching a group of three go at it on the stage. No, I felt that way because I wanted my dragon to show up.
Fucking stupid. How stupid could I be? Like I was some girl waiting for her white knight in a fucking sex club. Get real. What were the odds he would show up tonight, of all nights? What were the odds that he wasn’t already locked in one of those private rooms, getting to know someone else in the most intimate way?
Shit. Regret tore through me, along with a new, fresh flash of jealousy. I had no right to be jealous of anyone in this club; the whole point was nameless sex. I didn’t have ownership over the dragon man, just as I didn’t own Zander. Maybe that’s why I was so pissed off.
My jaw set. I was seconds from saying fuck this when someone stood behind me, his presence tall and wide. He leaned down to my ear, not quite touching me, but damn near close, as he said, “I thought I wouldn’t see you here again, princess.”
Princess. There was that nickname again.
I turned away from the stage, holding in a smile as I met the eyes of a man in a black mask, the same green eyes I’d stared into the last time I was here. In this light, they were shades darker than what they truly were. His yellow hair was a bit messy, but his jaw was free of stubble. He wore similar clothes as he had last time; black pants that were beyond snug and left nothing to the imagination, along with a button-down, long-sleeved shirt of the same color.
“How did you know it was me and not someone else?” I asked. As I gazed up at him, it was like the rest of the room ceased to exist. There were no other couples or groups making out, touching each other. No one else fucking nearby. Just the two of us, lost in our own little world.
His lips were slow to quirk into a smile. “The gloves. I still have the last pair you left with me. Do you always wear them?” His hands were in his pockets, and still he radiated a kind of energy that drew me in. Masculine to the extreme. Even his smell, a certain musky, woodsy scent that made me lean closer to him to get a better whiff of it.
“If I told you that, I’d have to kill you.”
He flashed me his perfectly white teeth as he laughed, as if I’d just made a joke. I didn’t. If he knew who I really was, he’d be dead. Maybe I wouldn’t kill him, but my father certainly would if he found out about this. So, I guess, me being here was even more selfish than it first appeared.
“I’d like to see you try, princess,” he said, as if he didn’t think I was dangerous. He’d be wrong, of course. His eyes dropped to take in my dress, how tightly it hugged my body… and how short it was. It ended on my thighs. “And who are you trying to impress wearing that?” At that question, his voice came out sounding a little different, as if he hadn’t before noticed the curves on my body.
He’d seen them before, but this dress was a reminder. That had been the whole point.
“What if I said it was you?” I offered. Deep inside, I had the urge to touch him, without the gloves. To run my hands down his body again in fresh appreciation of how utterly perfect it was. To feel him move against me and appreciate just how strong he was.
“I’d say you’re delusional. You’re too young. You shouldn’t even be here.”
There was that age thing again. Oh, how it instantly pissed me off even more, hearing that come out of his mouth. “And how old are you, then? Since it seems to matter so much to you.” Even though I stared up at him, my peripherals got to work. The group on the bed nearest the hall to the private rooms had brought out some toys… perhaps I could put one to good use.
“I’m thirty-two,” he said. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but if I would’ve known—”
“I’d tell you age is just a number, but I have the feeling you’ll just shrug me off,” I cut in. Oh, this guy. How could I be drawn to him at the same time I felt annoyed as hell by him? It was like he knew exactly what to say to tick me off further… or maybe that was just a habit men had. I didn’t have much experience dealing with them.
He agreed, “Probably.” He almost looked smug at that, as if he was proud to admit it, and that only served to further piss me off.
“You have a habit of making me upset,” I spoke, dropping my voice to a growl. Not a flirty voice. More like the voice of someone who was seconds from taking charge, whether he wanted me to or not.