Break Me - Page 18

“Thank you, Daddy,” I mutter to the empty car.

Good thing he was driving this the last day he was in the shed and left me some great accessories.

Wrapping the chain around my waist, I hook it with the lock, letting it hang at a sexy angle that draws attention to my hips and ass.

Clubbing. I can do this!

I give myself the mental pep talk before I snag my ID and some cash to get me in. Stepping out of my car, I do a quick flip of my dark hair to give it volume before I reach back into the car and add some red lipstick.

My eyes pop without makeup needed, but I add mascara for the sultry appeal.

Well, here we go, boys. Time to follow Mr. Waters and see what he is up to tonight.

The bouncer moves the red velvet rope to close me off from entering. The man in front of me is a good six foot six, all broad shoulders and angry face.

“Invitation only,” he clips out.

Cocking my hip out and pushing my breasts forward, I twirl my hair around my finger. With a pouty lip, I do the only thing I can think of. “I wanted to surprise Mr. Waters tonight.”

I didn’t want to use my mark’s name, but he obviously got in without an ID. Once inside, I’m sure I can blend in with the thumping bass and moving bodies. If I get caught, they will just kick me out. Waters should be none the wiser.

With a wink, the velvet rope is unclipped, and the massive man steps to the side, letting me by.

“Your sir will most certainly be pleased, pet.”

Sir? Pet? What the hell is he talking about?

The entryway is dark, and my eyes struggle to adjust. I see a dim glow ahead and follow it. When I enter the space, I am in no way prepared for what is in front of me.

Along a back wall are rooms, the bright white doors a stark contrast to the charcoal gray walls. Five doors, all numbered, and all have ribbons hanging on the handles as couples fill the spaces nearby.

There are women in nothing more than bras and thongs who are on their knees beside men with leashes hooked through collars. There are men in a variety of outfits—from simple boxer briefs to complicated leather pants with chains. They, too, are on their knees beside what I will assume to be their partners. Some sit with men, and surprisingly, others kneel before their women.

To the right are multiple couches and chairs, all of them full of couples in different stages of undress.

I watch as a woman rides a man, publicly fucking him, her cries warning of her building orgasm. Her partner nods to the woman beside them, and she leans in, pulling the woman’s breasts from her bra and taking one into her mouth. The woman riding the man goes off with a loud wail as the man laughs under her, continuing to thrust upward with his hips as he reaches around the back of the woman sucking and begins to finger her. She rocks against him, losing her suction as the first woman reaches out and pulls her to her, returning the favor by sucking her breast.

I stumble as someone bumps into me from behind, pushing me into the open space. Desperately, I look for the flashing lights, music, or any sign of the nightclub life I’m used to. Instead, I’m deeper into The Lion’s Den, and my body quivers in anticipation. This club was certainly named appropriately.

Mind back to the task; where is Waters?

Looking to the right, I see the soft glow of red neon lights following the length of the bar. I make my way to a stool. From here, I can scan the space inconspicuously until I find my mark.

The bartender, who is shirtless and in black leather pants with his Mohawk tipped in blue, smirks as he comes over. Mixing a quick cosmopolitan, he places the martini glass in front of me.

“On the house,” he says, leaning onto the bar with a half-grin.

I push the cocktail back. “I don’t drink.” I try refusing his offer.

His half-grin moves into a full-out smile, revealing perfectly straight, white teeth. “It’s your first time in The Den. You need to loosen up.”

Reminding myself I need to blend in, I sip the drink and nod my appreciation.

“You look like a deer caught in the headlights. What’s your kink?”

I nearly choke on my drink as I raise an eyebrow at him.

“Definite submissive. You’ll make a nice pet for someone. Who gave you the invite?”

Shit, I have showed my cards too soon and to a stranger. I need to focus. Think, Hi, think! Kink, he wants my kink. Obviously, The Lion’s Den is a private club. I needed a name drop to get in. Submissive, pet, my mind goes over the words used.

Tags: Chelsea Camaron Romance
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