Page 11 of Good Girl

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I’d clumped downstairs, feet now laced up in my boots, to grab something solid to eat. I didn’t tell her about my missed breakfast or the fast food on the way home, just sat down and ate the casserole she’d made like we were any other family. But then I heard the toot of a car horn. I scraped my bowl clean, put it in the dishwasher, and then went for the door.

“Isn’t he going to come in? I’d like to meet the boy. I’ve but—”

“Mum, we haven’t even been on a date yet. We’re just feeling things out, seeing how things go. His scent is glorious and we seem compatible, but who knows? Maybe he likes to spend every Sunday watching the footy and will expect me to crouch down on all fours and be his footstool.” Mum paled at that. “I’m just joking. If things seem like they’re getting serious, I’ll bring him in to meet you. Deal?”

“Deal.”

And with that, I swung down the steps and out into the darkness, the cool air on my skin, the sound of night bird calls settling something inside me as I walked up to the shining black car.

There was no waiting driver, no one to open my door for me and usher me in, and when I opened the passenger side door, Orion’s eyes rolled my way, pausing for a second to take in my outfit.

“You said wear anything,” I said sheepishly.

“Fuck, I’m gonna have to keep you close tonight.” His eyes met mine, boring into them, not letting me look away. “You’ll stay by my side, omega, you hear me? Not two steps in front, not two steps behind. With me at all times.”

I snickered at the OTT act. I guessed if Mi

randa Rhodes’ daughter got nabbed by one of the alpha gangs that ran the slums on his watch, the papers would have a field day.

“Get in and put your seatbelt on.”

“Yes, Dad,” I said in a singsong voice, sliding in and wriggling my butt a little at the plush feel of the seats.

“And stop doing that. It’s distracting.”

“Can’t you save the bossy, possessive shit for when we have an audience?” I said with a grin, grabbing onto the ‘oh shit’ bar because I had a feeling I knew how this was going to go.

Sure enough, he threw that bad boy into gear, taking off with a tyre squeal that must’ve had the neighbours twitching at their curtains, but for some reason, I didn’t give a shit. No society event, no pressure from other alphas, no bullshit. Orion had suggested this arrangement to help him and his boys, but I was beginning to see how this would work for me too. We parked in some kind of exclusive parking garage under the club, a fob and an eye scan required to get in, but once out of the car, Orion was true to his word.

Dressed much as he had been this morning in a black button-down left untucked, a thin tie wrenched loose around his neck, and black jeans that displayed his powerful thighs to perfection, he slung a heavy arm around me, pulling me in close so my head was almost nestled against his chest. That was how everyone saw us as we stalked up to the front door, past the line and red velvet rope, the bouncers nodding our way as we walked. Then we were in Apothecary. I freed myself as he chatted with someone at the door, walking over to the metal railing that held you back from plummeting down the several floors of craziness below.

Trapeze artists performed in the massive open space, performing tricks around elaborately bound naked figures, the red ropes showing off their various charms to perfection. Dancers hanging from cages, moving on podiums on the ground floor, filling each floor, gyrating to the beat—a beat the BDSM practitioners followed, spanking and paddling their subs until they safed out and were replaced by new willing victims.

“Close your mouth,” Orion ordered, moving in and taking up position by my side, his arm a burning weight across my back.

“Does it really hurt them?” I asked, unable to take my eyes away from one couple. He was a huge hulking figure, the black leather executioner’s mask he wore only showing his full lips, tipped up in a smile.

“It hurts them,” Orion answered. “For some people, that’s when the endorphins kick in, making pain seem like pleasure.”

I frowned at that, shifting against the pressure of his arm. It felt like an itch I couldn’t scratch.

“For others, it’s the headfuck of it all. She’s his entire focus, something she’ll never get in any other situation. To get that, she’ll let him do almost anything.”

“It’s about attention?” I jerked back, instinctively repelled, but he held me where I was, not budging, and therefore neither was I.

“You make that sound small, mean.” His eyes met mine. “But what’s small about that? About wanting to be your lover’s entire focus. To have them gorging themselves on you—on your reactions, your responses, your pleasures, and yes, your pain. It’s the most insanely intimate thing two people can do, share attention. Fucking can be no more than wanking in a hole, but this? It’s much harder to be masturbatory in a scene.”

Ulp. A big arse frog had somehow jumped into my throat, and I struggled to swallow him down.

“I said there were three others you’ll need to play girlfriend with, and you’re about to meet them. I’ve discussed the plan with them. Some are more onboard with that than others. Now, we’re going to walk down the stairs and over to the office just there.”

On the far wall, down a level, was a long squat room with a rectangular window running along it that would give the occupants a panoramic view of what was happening in the club.

“Now, we’re about to see and be seen, so if we’re to uphold our side of the bargain, that means making you look like the perfect little omega in a big bad club. You’ll drape yourself over me, and then we’ll go and meet my mates.”

It was a command, but it was a mild one—one I could ignore, but I didn’t. That was what we did, didn’t we? Looked to alphas to make decisions for us, to take the worry away. But the problem was I didn’t know how to do what he wanted, my eyes flicking around the club, looking for models of what he was talking about. There were women on men’s laps, women winding their arms around their partners’ necks, women that looked more liquid than solid, but I couldn’t see how I would walk like that. Instead, I turned to him, not saying a word, but he saw my frustration there.

“For a minute there, I was your entire focus, wasn’t I?” he asked with a faint smile. “You looked around the room for cues on how to do what I asked. You didn’t see them as people, as attractive or unattractive, there was only me.”


Tags: Sam Hall Fantasy