Branson cups my jaw, his grip firm as he brushes his thumb over my lower lip. “I’ll share anything. Except you.”
My breaths aren’t moving out of my chest the way they’re supposed to. They stick in my windpipe, hitching unevenly inside of my ribs. My core clenches at the fire burning in Branson’s eyes. Burning for me.
“Agreed,” I whisper. Branson reaches between us, unbuttoning my coat and sliding it off my shoulders. He steps back, taking it and laying it over the desk before adding his to the pile. Then he turns, taking my hand and leading me down a hallway to a set of double doors. Nick is standing in the corner. He pushes a button when he sees us coming.
The doors swing open and a heavy bass line hits us as we step through. My head spins. It’s a nightclub. Sort of. People are dancing and hanging out in little seating nooks. And there’s a bar, though a stylized sign above declares it alcohol free, and I can see why.
Interspersed with the dancing are scenes straight out of high-quality porn. A nude threesome is mid-Eiffel tower in the center of the dance floor. In one of the corners, a woman wearing nothing but leather straps is suspended in an intricate rope harness as a man in ass-less leather chaps fucks her silly.
It’s like a kinky version of Where’s Waldo. The more I look, the more I realize everyone is up to something dirty. At the edge of the dance floor, a woman in a white mask clings to the shoulders of a man in a dark suit. His hand is under her dress, and I watch, fascinated, as her eyes roll back in her head. Her lips part, and she comes apart in his arms, crying out, “Thank you, sir!”
The room moves in slow motion as he slides his hand out from under her dress. The woman opens her mouth, her expression lust-glazed and obedient as he makes her suck his fingers clean. He praises her, pulling her into his arms, and I have a heady sense of déjà vu, remembering the feeling of Branson’s hand under my coat.
I can almost taste the desire in the air. The energy in here is thick with the heady combination of lust and lowered inhibitions. Freedom and sex and a complete disregard for puritanical societal niceties. I fucking love it.
It’s only then that I realize Branson is watching me, and my jaw is hanging so loose it could scrape the floor. His shoulders face the room, but his head is cocked at an angle as he observes me, eyes tense. I snap my mouth shut so no one trips on it.
“So, you’re kinky. Like, really kinky?” I ask with a grin.
Branson shrugs, returning my grin.
“This is so much better than bowling,” I mutter, eyes darting around the club.
14
Branson
Alex’s face is pure wonder and, for the first time in hours, I breathe a small sigh of relief. I’d been hoping for her to just be okay with this being a part of my past. As long as she didn’t run screaming back to Sugar Creek, I was prepared to call that a win. But she’s not running. Even better, she’s fascinated.
Her mouth hangs open, eyes bright as she takes everything in. Her breathing picks up, and she licks her parted lips as a dom fingers a sub on the dance floor. Finally, she glances back up at me, mouth snapping shut.
“So, you’re kinky. Like, really kinky?” she asks, expression excited.
I shrug and return her smile, too relieved to say much.
“This is so much better than bowling,” she whispers, barely loud enough for me to hear over music. Eyes flit in Alex’s direction and despite my best intentions, I worry that the red mask made her more visible than a plain white one would have. I wrap my arm around her waist, pulling her close and making it clear she’s mine. I’m not sure who I’m trying to convince. Her? Them? Me? All I know is that the idea of anyone else touching her makes my jaw clench.
I pull Alex to the side, heading for an empty velvet sofa. She’s been walking around in new heels for too long. “Sit with me,” I demand. Alex raises an eyebrow as I take a seat and pat the cushion next to me. I can see her fighting the command, but she sits. I lift her legs up into my lap, pulling her closer. She rests an elbow on the back of the couch, leaning her cheek on her palm as she eyes me speculatively.
“I think I’m ready to admit that you aren’t what I expected,” Alex says with a soft smile.
“Oh, yeah?” I laugh, slipping her shoes off. She watches me, blonde curls falling over one shoulder as she cocks her head to the side. I have a pretty good idea of what she expected, and I’m pleased to have proved her wrong. I’m going to win her over. I can feel it.
A waitress comes over, stealing Alex’s attention. She’s staff and isn’t wearing a mask. “Hey, Branson. Can I get you a drink?”
Alex stiffens next to me, but I slide a hand along her calf, my eyes only for her. “Sparkling water?” I ask her. She nods, cozying back up to me. I hold up two fingers and the waitress nods, turning away.
“They know you by name? I thought it was anonymous,” Alex says.
“See the guys around the room with the red pins on their lapels?” I ask her. She glances around and nods.
“They’re monitors. They make sure people follow the rules. That everyone is safe. That’s what I do here, and that’s how she knows who I am. But yeah, she shouldn’t have used my name.”
Alex frowns. “So, you don’t… do all that?” She gestures to a dom, spanking a sub over his lap.
“Not in a long time,” I chuckle. “For me, it loses its appeal when I don’t feel connected to my partner.”
“So, you’re kinkyanda big softy?” she teases.