Illicit

In Reed Tower, Cabot Reed was the king of his kingdom. Here. Mina was definitely the queen of hers.

A lesson in self control, I forced myself not to gawk at each person I passed, though I did try to take it all in as I followed Mina. Women were dressed in various amounts of coverage, from floor-length dresses with extreme cutouts to scraps of barely-there lace that barely-there covered their naughty bits. There was latex and leather, bootie shorts and…

Were those assless chaps? I craned my neck as inconspicuously as possible, and…

Yep. We’ve got assless chaps, folks.

Some men wore dress shirts opened to expose their chests–from Alaskan Black Bear hairy to baby smooth and oiled. There were leather wrist cuffs and chokers, suspenders… pants that looked painted on…

Nipple pasties.

Nice touch.

A blond man in nothing but black shorts that left little to the imagination caught my gaze and raised his eyebrows in question. I offered a friendly smile and quickly looked away. He may or may not have returned the gesture, but I’ll never know. The bottom half of his face was hidden behind a snug black leather mask with a zipper where his mouth would be.

Ah, I did always think men should be seen and not heard.

Kidding.

Sort of.

I followed Mina to a half-moon booth in the corner and settled in beside her.

I was keeping it together quite well, thank you very much, considering I’d never seen this much skin in one place.

Or men in assless chaps.

Or a dude with his mouth zipped closed.

But there was a first time for everything, and this was mine.

Mina leaned toward me to be heard over the deep thrum of the music. “Would you like something to drink? A cocktail or beer, possibly?” She motioned to someone behind me, then leaned over again. “Are you doing all right, Rylan? You look a bit like a deer in the headlights.”

I winced. “Sorry, I’m just… it’s a lot to take in.”

“I understand. Would you like to leave?”

I looked back out to scan the crowd. Did I want to leave? “No.” I shook my head. Out of my comfort zone, for sure, but I was intrigued. And honestly, I’d never been one to shy away from interesting things and this place was certainly that. But hey, as long as I stayed in this booth all night, what could possibly go wrong?

“Do you like red wine?”

I nodded.

“Great.” Mina gave a curt nod, then leaned over the back of the booth. “Bring us that ninety-seven pinot noir we got in last week, please. With two glasses and two bottles of water.”

“Yes. Mistress.”

I turned around to thank the server, but he was already gone, so I leaned toward Mina. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” Her dark gaze flicked back and forth between my eyes. “But, really, please don’t be nervous. You’re safe here. Nothing will ever happen to you in my clubs without your full consent. Do you understand?”

I nodded, though something about the emphasis on consent made my stomach twist. I was way out of my element here.

“We have rules in place, contracts. When people come to my sanctuary, they follow my rules. And, honestly, Rylan, that’s something we can discuss later on. For tonight, I just want you to relax and take it all in. Events like this are fun and carefree. You won’t see anyone participating in play unless you seek that out–”

A man cleared his throat behind me. “Mistress Sinclair.”

My breath caught in my throat.

I’d smelled him before I heard him, but I was so caught up in Mina’s words that my brain hadn’t fully registered his presence. Hell, I’d been smelling him for the past twenty minutes and convinced myself it was just a super popular cologne.

But now…

Hearing that voice…

So deep and melodic. Gruff and, yet, slightly amused.

And the way it affected me. My entire body was lit up like the Fourth of July.

Taking a chance, I breathed deeply, pulling Cabot Reed’s delicious scent into my lungs. My eyes fluttered closed. God, he smelled so incredibly good.

It should be illegal.

After a moment of reveling in the scent of him, I opened my eyes and caught Mina’s gaze on me. She watched me with a curious look in her eyes.

Oh God, how long had I been sitting here with my eyes closed and a goofy grin on my face?

Shit.

I quickly schooled my expression into something less… dumbstruck?

Mina smiled knowingly and looked up at the man standing behind me.

I clenched my hands into fists on my thighs and fought to control my breathing, but with every deep breath, I inhaled more of his intoxicating scent. It completely incapacitated me, sinking deep into my body and twisting my belly into a tight knot of desire.

Here I was, in this sensual, seductive place, running into a man that could elicit visceral reactions in my body with a simple look or one-word command.

Mina stood, then leaned over me to hug the man standing behind the booth. “Master Creed–”

Creed?

Oh.

Creed. Cabot Reed.

C. Reed.

Clever and cocky.

“–I’d like you to meet my guest. This is my newest hire. She’ll be taking care of the shop upstairs while Laurel is on maternity leave.” Mina patted my shoulder.

My bare shoulder.

Oh

No

My tits were pushed up to my clavicle, thanks to this freaking corset Greer made me put on, and the C. E. motherfucking O. of Reed Publishing stood behind me, waiting for me to turn around.

I bit back a laugh as my nerves twisted like a tornado in my gut and a giggle tried to bubble its way up my throat.

“Rylan?” MIna nudged.

Shit.

I couldn’t just stare at the table forever. Giving my head a subtle shake, I braced myself and turned slowly around in my seat–

Oh, sweet baby Jesus, he was shirtless.

Shirtless!

And I was eye-level with ridges of toned abs and a dark dusting of hair that spread up from the waist of his low-slung dark jeans to the defined chest above.

Losing the battle of self-control, I blurted out a nervous laugh, then quickly covered my mouth. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” I squeezed my eyes shut as my blood heated to boiling and embarrassment probably turned my chest and cheeks ten shades of red.

Not that anyone could see it in this dark fetish club.

Oh god. I was in a fetish club with Cabot Reed.

I laughed again and squeezed my eyes shut as shame filled me.

“Not the effect I usually have on women,” Reed said, the sound of his voice an actual physical sensation in my body.

The man needed to stop talking.

And get some damn clothes on.

And wash that freaking cologne off!

A girl could only take so much.

What had I done in a past life to deserve this kind of torture?

With a deep breath–bad idea!–I tilted my head back and opened my eyes to look up at him.

A black leather hood and mask covered everything but his eyes and lips. Yet, even masked, Cabot Reed’s dark gaze was unmistakable.

That familiar, amused glimmer in his eyes told me he was enjoying every second of my discomfort. He ran his tongue slowly across the seam of his lips, then his gaze dropped to my chest and his lips parted in surprise.

Ha! Now who’s the cocky one?

His eyes met mine again and my victory was short-lived. He looked like he might devour me on the spot.

And I wanted him to.

And that was it, folks, all she wrote.

Stick a fucking fork in me because

I

Am

Done.