I shove the depressing thoughts from my head as we left the shimmering lights of New Orleans behind us. For twenty-five minutes I was held prisoner between Bastian and Dante. Each took turns kissing me slowly at first and then hotter and deeper until all three of us were panting. Street lights gradually faded and became trees and the darkness was only penetrated by the BMW’s high beams.
Now, we are on the outskirts of New Orleans in an elevator on the way to the third floor of Club Sin with my heart racing and my panties drenched. The one named Dante with long black hair and silver eyes stands at my back. His hands are on my ass holding me up while his friend, Con, sucks the tip of my tongue between his lips.
I didn’t get a good look at anything as I was ushered through the doors. Other than being located on an old plantation with sprawling lands and draping willow trees I saw on the drive past the front gate, I’m left in the dark about what the famous Club Sin actually looks like.
Maybe I can sneak out later and take a look around. Right now, I’m wrapped around Con’s middle while their third friend warms me with his body heat from my left. He’s a bit of a multi-tasker, teasing my nipples as he switches between kissing and biting my neck.
Which is all fine. I’m fine. It’s all good. Except for the fifth person in the elevator with us.
The Club Sin hostess has her eyes staring forward and her hearing is apparently selectively switched off. Because there is no way she can actually stand there with her stack of papers and not actually hear these three men growling over me.
“Don’t worry about the hostess. She’s paid to ignore us.”
Bastian’s rough voice is close to my ear and gives me instant goosebumps with how the low rumble of his voice affects my libido. Which is a whole new world of sensations for me to explore. Lips are back to devouring me and I lean a little more into Bastian’s hungry mouth.
But what I really notice is how turned on I am and how fearless I feel in their embraces.
The elevator dings.
“Welcome to Room Seventeen.” Our hostess steps from the metal box into a luxury suite.
Gleaming hardwood floors spread out in front of us with a few elaborate rugs strategically placed. There’s a leather couch pushed up against one side of the wide-open space with a small kitchen to the left of us. Though fully modern there’s still an old-world vibe to the original wood walls and terraces I spot through open balcony doors.
Right outside the elevator doors, there is a small table and that is where my focus lands.
I expect Con to set me down, but he keeps me in his arms and follows the older yet beautiful woman to the small table a foot inside the suite.
“Set her down here, please.” This lady looks more like a working madam than a hostess. She doesn’t put up with anyone’s bullshit and rightly so.
A pen is shoved into my hand and Con grunts and the lady’s briskness. My feet are placed on the floor. With kiss-swollen lips, messy hair, and lip gloss smeared over my chin I do the only thing I can do. Smile and listen.
She points to the papers and I pick them up.
“You need me to sign this?”
“If you want to stay on the premises you will need to sign, yes.” The hostess takes in my motorcycle boots, daisy dukes, and crop top, but it’s not judgment radiating from her visual caress.
It’s…envy?
If she knew the inner me. The one I keep buried and hushed, she would judge me then and I wouldn’t blame her. I judge myself all the time.
“Is this necessary? We paid for this suite. We bring who we want. Fuck your contract.” Bastian is at my back, his arm coming around my middle. I catch his intention a second before he goes to snatch the contracts out of my hands and move the papers from him just in time.
“It’s okay, Bastian,” I reassure him. The feel of his hard cock pressing into me has me willing to sign with the devil right now. No amount of legal terms from a club will stop me. I’ve come this damn far. I am not about to let my inner fears win this time.
I’m not hallucinating his protective stance nor the way his already deep voice turns into a growl of discontent.
It seems Bastian doesn’t take away the same thing I do and thinks of her looking at my less-than-ritzy attire as a snub.
“If you bring a guest from outside the club that guest must sign that she is clean and healthy. And as a guest of the private suite, she must agree that any sexual act performed in our club is of her consent. If she wants to stay, she signs, Sir.”
I like the balls on this lady.
Bastian looks like he’s going to throw out the hostess for only doing her job. While I have never heard of them killing the help, I would hate to be the cause of them changing their MO. Then again, who knows what they have done behind closed doors? The crimes they’ve committed, the people they’ve…taken care of?
I can’t go down that road. All the rumors swirling around their names are circumstantial at best.
Another thick arm wraps around me and my inner wanna-be lawyer zips her lips and lets the dirty angel side of me out to play.