Out of the Ashes (The Game 5)

“Oh my God,” I muttered, already out of breath, and I dropped my overnight bag on the floorboards. “I can’t believe this is happening. Are you positive Tate is all right with this?”

He hummed and grazed his teeth along my jaw. “We will begin with an interrogation.”

Wait, what?

He hadn’t answered my question!

“A what now?”

He inched away from me and became…more casual. “An interrogation. You’ve made some infractions we have to address.” To mess with my head further, he started unbuckling my belt and unzipping my pants. “I also wanna know more about you. When we play together, Franklin, I’m your Handler, and I take integrity, safety, and trust very seriously.” Christ, he pulled out my cock from my boxer briefs like it was nothing, and all I could do was groan a curse. “Hard already. Shocker.” Then he smacked my cheek, and I forced myself to get my act together. “Follow me. I’ll take your bag.”

“But—” Gah. My pants. “May I zip—”

“No. Come on, pet.” He was already opening the door. “You’ll walk just like that.”

I… But… Oh, for the—! Unsure if I had ever been so flustered, I peered down at myself and didn’t know what to do. I looked utterly ridiculous! He expected me to walk in there dressed in a nice, respectable suit…with my cock exposed? I’d be less bothered by walking around completely naked.

Mortification consumed me. It burned hotly, and I knew…of course that was what he expected.

With a blush setting my skin on fire, I steeled myself and gripped the edge of my pants, making sure they didn’t fall down. Then I followed him inside the club, where we first reached a lobby. I recalled the virtual tour Tate had given me. The club area was through that wide entrance ahead, kitchen and offices down a hall—but Kingsley was heading up the stairs.

So far, it was fairly dead around here. Music was playing in the club area, albeit quietly. I didn’t see anyone.

Not until we got to the third floor. Tate had told me there were primarily guest rooms up here. A long hallway with several doors on each side came into view, and so did another man, an incredibly handsome one, seated in a wheelchair.

I was in way over my head, yet my body buzzed with anticipation. For so many years, I had suppressed and denied my nature.

No more.

Kingsley was perhaps ten feet away from me when he looked at me over his shoulder. “Is the whore a bit slow on the uptake?”

The whore is whatever you want it to be, Handler.

I hurried over to him and dropped my gaze to the floor, because I sure as hell did not want to see the strange man take in my state of undress. What must he think of me?

I snuck a quick glimpse at the door Kingsley opened. Room 11.

It wasn’t a guest room at all. It was the Hollywood depiction of an interrogation room, complete with gray walls, linoleum floor, fluorescent lights, and a single table at the center. Three chairs.

I spotted a mirrored window on one of the walls, and it stopped me in my tracks.

Kingsley noticed my movement and side-eyed the window. “It’s mainly a storage room for beds when we use this room for scening. Welcome to the dullest guest room in the house.”

People slept in here? It was so bland and cold. But, I supposed, sometimes that could be the point of a masochist’s stay. To be locked in here to spend the night had to be a punishment.

Kingsley draped an arm around my shoulders and made me face the mirrored window fully. “It’s also a great place for an audience to watch a whore face his allegations. We know how to utilize every surface in this place.”

My eyes widened. “There’s someone in there?” Tate?

“Six someones,” he corrected with a grin. A beat later, he slapped my softening cock and made me flinch. “I bet they’re cracking up at you already.”

I needed the floor to swallow me whole right goddamn now. Six people! Six complete strangers were in there, watching me this very moment. Oh, what had I done? And what would they do to me? Would they do anything at all? Was Kingsley lying? He could tell me a dozen people were watching; I’d never know.

Kingsley nudged me toward the table. “Have a seat on the other side. My friend and I are going to ask some questions.”

I could not scurry over there quicker, if only because it would shield my semi-erection under the table. I sat down in the lone chair on my side and gathered my hands over my cock.

Kingsley dropped my overnight bag by the door, and his friend removed one of the chairs across from me since he had his wheelchair. His features were striking; he was almost as breathtakingly gorgeous as Kingsley. Dark hair, almost black, and a bit wild. Pale skin. Calculating blue eyes. Unlike Kingsley, this man was dressed sharply. Dress pants, gray button-down that fit his body perfectly.