Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 67479 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67479 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
“Good afternoon, Mr. Nixon. Jake told me he’d be expecting you.” She motions for us to follow her down a short hallway to a door at the end. When she pushes the door open, I see it’s dimly lit inside, almost like a club. At first, I’m confused. I hear soft music mixed with other sounds I can’t immediately identify. But as my eyes adjust, I see beds. And on those beds are people.
And all I can do is stare.
My gaze lands on a couple who are engaged in the sixty-nine position, the woman on top with her legs spread over the man’s face as he eats her. Her head bobs up and down as she sucks his cock. My cheeks flush, and I can’t help but feel a mixture of embarrassment and awe at the same time.
I jump when Soren takes my hand and then leans in to whisper, “Don’t want you to get lost down here, now do we, Hurricane?” He tips a grin and then pulls me farther inside.
“What is this place?” I ask as he leads me to a bar where a man is sitting with a stack of paperwork in front of him.
“Jake, care to tell Miss Knight what this place is?” Soren says.
The man, Jake, looks up from his paperwork. And I immediately think he doesn’t look like someone who would work in a place like this. He’s handsome, dressed much like Soren, though he appears to be more relaxed and laid-back than the man at my side.
“You’ve never been to a club like this?” Jake asks me.
“Can’t say I have,” I reply.
“If you look around, do you notice something all the people here have in common?” Jake waves a hand at the room, and my gaze slowly scans the space. There are beds everywhere. Some are out in the open, some in rooms with glass windows, and others are in private rooms with no view available once the doors are closed. And the clubgoers are all naked except for one thing—a colored wristband.
“What do the bands mean?” I ask, turning back to Jake.
“To enter, you have to have a band,” Jake explains.
Neither Soren nor I are wearing a band. Noticing my confused expression, Jake says, “Soren likes to waltz in and break the rules. But don’t worry, this establishment isn’t really his thing. No fighting happening here, right, Soren?” Jake smiles at him before he looks back at me.
“My establishments focus on pleasure with consent. I just opened this location. My other club is bigger and better known, but I wanted something more intimate for this place.”
“Each wristband color has a meaning. Yellow means you’re interested in playing but might not be ready yet. Green means you’re up for anything. And red indicates that you’re off-limits.”
“I wasn’t aware these places existed,” I whisper.
Soren squeezes my hand and then turns back to Jake, asking, “What do you need help with?”
Jake glances at his paperwork and then shoves it toward Soren. Releasing my hand, Soren picks up the stack of papers, skims the top sheet, then says, “I’ll be in contact.” He nods to Jake, retakes my hand, and turns to lead me away.
“Pleasure meeting you,” I call over my shoulder to Jake.
“Come back anytime.”
I smile and take one last look around.
“You will not come back anytime,” Soren says with a hint of annoyance and… possessiveness?
“Sure, Dad, whatever you say.” I roll my eyes as he pulls me out of the club.
TWELVE
SOREN
Over my dead fucking body is she coming back here without me watching her every move. It was risky bringing her here, but I figured it might get the heat of her breathing down my neck for a little bit. Will it work? I’m not entirely sure, but I hope it does. Maybe she’ll change the direction of where her story goes and decide that writing about a sex club would be way more interesting than a secret society no one but the members is supposed to know about. But I don’t think my chances of that happening are very good. She’s too clued in and too fucking smart for her own good. I heard that she has evidence stashed, and if she goes missing, it will be released. How true that is, I’m not sure, but I have a feeling that if I asked her, I wouldn’t get the truth regardless.
“Where are you taking me now? Maybe a place that sells drugs?” She claps her hands excitedly.
“What about food?” I ask. Just as I say it, her stomach growls. “Food it is,” I tell the driver where to go, and when I look back at her, she’s staring at me with those soft, baby-blue eyes that we both know aren’t so soft.
“It was a nice plan,” she says, sitting back with her arms crossed over her chest.