35. Crew
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
CREW
T he pretty pink blush that’s taken over Camilla’s cheeks is addictive, and I find myself wanting to push her out of her comfort zone more often if it means eliciting the same response.
Her perfect pouty lips are slightly parted as we lead her down the nondescript hallway leading to the room Elias reserved for us. It’s just one of the basic rooms, but perfect for what we have planned for her.
Perhaps once she’s a little more comfortable here, we could take her into one of the themed rooms, but small steps are needed when we’re already on thin ice.
I pause outside the door at the end of the hall and use the keycard Elias gave me when we arrived. The door opens, and we usher Camilla in before she can change her mind and run in the opposite direction.
Camilla steps ahead of us, and we hang back by the door, allowing her gaze to fall on each of the furnishings, along with the wall of spanking paraphernalia that we absolutely plan on using on her tonight.
We have many plans for the little menace, and after being deprived of her sweet pussy for weeks, I’m ravenous for her.
“What do you think, love?” Bishop steps forward, following after her as she looks over the spanking bench and Saint Andrew’s cross, before pausing by the silk covered king-size bed. If the five of us ever want to play here, we’ll definitely need to book the group room because there’s no way in hell we’re all fitting on a bed this size.
“It’s…” She drags her bottom lip between her teeth as she takes another look around the room. The color scheme is the same in here as throughout the rest of the club, the crimson red and black accents scream sex, and I try to remember what I thought of it the first time we came here not long after Elias and Wyatt opened the place. “Intriguing.”
Bishop chuckles as he drags his fingers down her spine, dragging a soft gasp from her throat. “We can work with intriguing, can’t we, Crew?”
I stalk toward them, coming around Camilla’s other side and grasping the back of her neck. I force her gaze up to meet mine and find her lust-filled gray eyes staring back at me. Fuck, she’s perfection. I never truly believed in that word until she walked into our lives. “Oh, I think we can definitely work with that.”
“Is there anything in particular you want to try, love?” Bishop asks.
She shakes her head, and just from the small movement, I know she needs us to take the lead on this one, which is hardly surprising. Her experience with men begins and ends with us, so it’s reasonable that she wouldn’t know what half the shit in this room is used for.
Without releasing her neck, I reach behind me and grasp the silk tie we requested from the end of the bed. Camilla’s eyes lock on it as I bring it closer to her face, and her breath stutters in her chest.
“I’m going to blindfold you, okay, Little Menace?”
“Yes,” she breathes.
“Good girl,” Bishop praises, and a small shiver vibrates through her body. She sure does like that. “If anything scares you or you need to take a break at any point, I want you to say ‘red’ for me, okay?”
“Okay,” she whispers.
I pass the tie to him, and he quickly secures it around the back of her head. The moment she can no longer see, Camilla reaches out and grips my hand, using me to steady herself, and there’s a sick part of me that loves seeing her off-kilter.
“Now, I think we owe you a punishment, don’t you, Bishop?”
Her head whips up to face me even though she can’t actually see. “For what?” she snaps.
“For sneaking out without telling anyone where you were going when you’re well aware of the danger you’re in.”
“Like you would have let me go if I’d told you.”
“You’re right, love. We wouldn’t have let you run off without thinking through the possible consequences. If you needed space, we could have arranged that at the compound where we knew you were okay. But instead, you scared the shit out of all of us, and that comes with consequences.”
Her mouth pops open like she’s about to argue, but I quickly dip my face down and press my lips to hers, cutting off any further complaints. We’re not meant to be discussing this, not tonight. Tonight is meant to be part of our reconciliation, which includes overwhelming her with so many orgasms she can’t possibly argue when we insist on taking her home to the compound tonight.
Does that make us assholes? It certainly does. But I don’t care. I need my woman at home, where she belongs, and where I’m sure she’ll be safe.