Total pages in book: 168
Estimated words: 164910 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 825(@200wpm)___ 660(@250wpm)___ 550(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 164910 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 825(@200wpm)___ 660(@250wpm)___ 550(@300wpm)
We both left bloody, but I left standing.
Lifting the lid on a panel, Callum presses his thumb to a screen. The scanner moves up and down, flashes green, and the door opens, a beautiful young woman in a tight black dress smiling at us.
“Mr. Ames.” She holds the door wide, welcoming us in. “May I take anything for you?”
He unloads his cell phone, and I hesitate, until he glances over his shoulder at me.
Pulling out my cell, I drop it on the tray with his. I watch her put them in a bag and slip it into a wooden cubby labeled Ames.
Another woman approaches us, carrying a tray. A selection of condoms adorn the silver plate, a variety of textures and colors. No lube?
“An offering?” the first girl asks Callum, gesturing to me.
He nods, and I straighten as she moves to me.
“You may only do what you want and leave when you’re ready. You may—”
“I’ll make sure he follows the rules,” Callum cuts off her little spiel.
Aw, but I wanted the full experience.
He approaches the door ahead, and I gaze around the room, noticing there’s still a table with four chairs and a wall of compartments as well as a cooler with refreshments. I guess people need to hydrate as they leave.
There are monitors showing the outdoor perimeter, and above a sideboard table is a wall with masks. Mostly carnival type, but there are a few horror-themed ones.
“Should I wear one?” I ask Callum. “Some of them might not like facing their daughter’s high school teacher during a conference a month from now.”
“That’s specifically what they’ll love most about it,” he retorts.
I laugh to myself, staring at the back of his head. He’s gotten quicker.
I may actually have fun tonight.
He plucks two condoms from the tray, handing me one over his shoulder. I take it. “Just one?”
What if I need more?
But he simply growls, “Wear it.”
“But I feel so much better bare,” I tease, lowering my voice to a whisper. “You remember.”
I can honestly say he was the only one I ever did that with. He was a virgin, and I’d always been safe, and I don’t know what happened. The second time, I just needed to feel him.
Was it worth all the trouble he’s caused my family?
I still can’t be sure how I’d answer that.
Callum turns his head toward the screens, and I follow, both of us noticing the men approaching the unmarked brown door outside. I narrow my eyes, making out Jerome Watson, one of Macon’s old nemeses. I don’t recognize the other one.
Callum moves. “I’ll give you a head start,” he tells me. “I have to check on Sophia.”
One of the girls reclaims his phone, handing it to him.
I glance at the monitors again, seeing the two men entering the hallway.
“Browse.” Callum holds the phone to his ear. “You are completely safe for another ninety-eight minutes.”
Until midnight.
The door ahead of me opens, and I dart my gaze from the monitors to Callum, seeing him turn to talk on the phone.
I didn’t need a tour anyway. I’d rather go at my own pace.
Purple and blue light fills the room ahead, and I step in, the smooth beats of the deep house music vibrating against my body.
Everything hits me at once. The darkness of the club, the black walls and purple couches…
The high ceiling with a dozen crystal chandeliers.
The small groups of people hiding in alcoves or gathered at intimate tables.
Turning my head, I find the door to the anteroom closed to me.
My chest falls, everything feeling heavier for a second.
Why the hell am I nervous? I’m never nervous.
I just can’t help but wish Iron was here, though. I’ve shared people before, and I’ve been watched but…
I hesitate, finally realizing I’ve never been watched by strangers.
Filling my lungs, I lift my chin and walk into the Wolfe Room. Nothing is uncomfortable after ten minutes, I tell myself. I belong everywhere.
Large seating areas fill the center of the room, an occasional couple sitting close, hands moving under tables and inside dresses. A few women stand displayed along the right, elevated on platforms but still within reach. Eye candy dressed only in nipple coverings, glitter, and tails, and as I pass alcoves and tables of other women in miniskirts, corsets, and red-soled heels, I understand there’s a difference between the two. It’s not only St. Carmen elite in here. The women displayed are brought in for variety, their scantily clad, perfectly proportioned bodies strapped to poles.
Makes sense. There are wives who don’t play, I’m sure. They need more women.
The smooth beats of the music filter through my head, down my body, and I sweep my eyes over some of the most perfect skin I’ve seen in my life. Trim waists giving way to shapely hips and asses, and I can’t help but want to watch these women move more than I want to know what they feel like. The beauty on display is incredible.