Chapter 8
Brielle
This man. This cocky, arrogant fucking man is going to drive me to insanity.
I hate him.
I hate everything about him.
But then he reminds me of our night together, and like a conditioned dog at the sound of a bell, I salivate at the thought of him bringing me to another orgasm.
“I hope you enjoyed my pussy,” I tell him, “because it’s never happening again.”
He wants to force me to marry him—fine. But that doesn’t mean I have to participate in any sort of wifely duties, including having sex with him.
“It’ll be hard to create a baby without having sex,” he says with a laugh, thinking he’s got me backed into a corner.
“It’s called in vitro fertilization.”
He drops his smug grin and leans in, his eyes filled with heat, and I hold my breath, waiting for the threat to come. I’ve been around enough assholes like him to know that they don’t take kindly to being told no.
But once again, Kane proves to be different when he says, “So, you’ve thought about this, huh? Having my baby? If that’s what you want to do, that’s fine. I happened to like your mouth wrapped around my cock. And there’s always your ass.”
He waggles his brows, and I swallow thickly as thoughts of Anthony taking me from behind hit me.
“The amount of times I’ve thought about fucking that tight little—”
“Enough!” I bark, then lower my voice when I realize I’m drawing attention over to us. “That night was a mistake, and it will never happen again. Any of it. Not in my pussy or my mouth and definitely not in my ass,” I choke out.
Kane sits back, his eyes assessing me, trying to figure out why I just lashed out. I’m so used to Theo and his golden retriever vibes that I’m not prepared for Kane and the way he notices everything.
Thankfully, the waiter arrives with our food and waits for Kane to cut into his filet.
“Perfect.” He pops a bite into his mouth.
Then his eyes meet mine, and I hold my breath, praying he’s not going to call me out.
Instead, he smiles and says, “Eat up, Princess. We have plans after dinner.”
I almost wish he had brought up the anal talk because the knowing look on his face tells me he’s up to something, and whatever he has planned can’t be good.
A sex club.
He brought me to a freaking sex club.
“Mr. Morgan,” a gentleman says, greeting us at the door. “I’m Evan Mariano, the manager of Satisfaction. Thank you for accepting my invite. We’re looking forward to showing you what our club has to offer.”
Kane shakes Evan’s hand. “This is my girlfriend, Brielle Antonova.”
The mention of my surname has Evan widening his eyes, obviously having heard of my family. Exclusive memberships to places like this are based on word of mouth, and since Kane is new to town and clearly has connections, it would make sense Evan would reach out.
“And this is her guard, Daniil,” Kane notes.
“Welcome to Satisfaction”—Evan grins—“where fantasy and reality become one.”
He nods toward a petite woman, who saunters over. She’s dressed in a tight black pencil skirt and an equally tight black top, the buttons undone, showing off her cleavage that’s spilling out of her black lace bra. Her stiletto heels are also black—the perfect mix of professional and sexy.
“Unfortunately, only guests can be brought inside.” Evan eyes Daniil. “But you’re welcome to wait out here.”
Daniil glances at me, and I nod that it’s okay. We have a deal that I do what I want, and in return, I pay him a large sum off the table, which helps support his family in Russia.
“We’ll just need a bit of information from you,” Evan continues, “and then Mira will show you around. If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to ask.”
As Mira guides us into the office, I take note of how different the club looks from what I’d expect.
With high ceilings, tasteful art donning the walls, and marble floors spanning across the area, both luxurious and tasteful.
There are lavish couches and love seats in the main area with two gorgeous spiraling staircases leading up to the second floor, which makes it look more like a mansion than a sex club.
A few gentlemen and women are sitting on the couches, talking and laughing and drinking, and for a moment, I wonder if this is some kind of joke that Kane is playing on me because nothing about this place screams sex.
“This is the sitting room,” Mira explains. “They’re waiting for their table to be ready. We have two restaurants on-site—Lucia’s and Flynn’s, both run by Michelin-starred chefs.”
Rather than walking up the stairs, we veer right, and after she scans her card, we enter an office, which is just as upscale as the sitting room.
“We already have Mr. Morgan’s info, but we’ll need to put your license into our system and gather a bit of information from both of you regarding your limits,” Mira says.
“I’m not planning to join,” I tell her, wondering how the hell we went from eating dinner to checking out a damn sex club.
“Anyone who enters Satisfaction must have their IDs on file and sign an NDA,” Mira says.
“It’s to protect the guests. Mr. Morgan and you have been given a limited elite pass for the night.
Because you haven’t provided your STI test results, you may not interact with any other members, other than to observe.
However, you can try out any of the rooms you wish”—she grins—“with each other.”
Elite pass?
STI tests?
Observe?
“I’m sorry. Can you give Mr. Morgan and me a moment to discuss this?” I ask Mira, who simply nods and stands.
“Of course. If you decide to move forward, please provide your license and fill out this info.” She hands us each an iPad. “And then I’ll give you a private tour of the facilities. If you change your mind, I’ll be waiting outside to escort you out.”
Once she’s gone, I turn to look at Kane.
“What the hell is this?” I hiss.
Of course, he grins. “A sex club.”
“And why in the world would you think it would be appropriate to bring me here on a first date? Or any date for that matter.” I stand, more than ready to leave, when Kane grabs my hand and pulls me onto his lap.
Instinctually, I try to push myself off him, but when his strong hands slide around my waist and down to my ass, I’m reminded of the last time we were in this position—with both of us naked and me riding him—and I freeze.
“Princess,” he drawls, and I glare, which only makes him chuckle. “I know you’ve got a stick shoved up your ass in public—”
“Fuck you!”
“I’m definitely not opposed.” He grins devilishly.
“It’s not happening,” I reiterate. “Now, tell me why the hell we’re here. If you want to fuck other women, feel free. As far as I’m concerned, this sham of a marriage is in name only.”
“If I wanted to fuck other women, I sure as hell wouldn’t have brought you here,” Kane growls, tightening his grip on my waist. “Now, instead of making assumptions, take the stick out of your ass for a damn minute. From the little you told me during our night together, you have certain wants and needs, and what better place to explore them than at an exclusive sex club, where nobody is judging?”
I open my mouth to argue, but realize I don’t know what to say because he actually makes sense.
“I was invited tonight by the owner in the hope that I’d sign up,” he continues. “He obviously thought I was single at the time, but I figured we could check it out together. There are all types of relationships, including ones where the woman is given the control, like what you crave.”
“That’s rich, coming from you.” I scoff. “You might’ve given me the control that night, but the next day, you took it away.”
“I did what I had to do,” he says, refusing to show an ounce of remorse for forcing me to marry him. He lifts me off his lap and stands. “Now, do you want to check out this club or not?”
I want to be stubborn and demand he take me home, but I am curious about the place. “I’m not going to have sex with you. You can force me to marry you, but you can’t force me to have sex with you.”
“And I have no intention of doing so,” he says dryly. “The next time we have sex, it will be because you’re so desperate for my cock that you’ll be begging me to fuck you.”
“Over my dead body,” I mutter, grabbing the iPad to fill out the info.
There are a million questions, and I barely glance at them, wanting to get it over with so I can check out the place—and sate my curiosity—and then leave.
Once we’re done, Kane gets Mira and tells her we’d like her to give us a tour.
“Fantastic,” she says, pulling out her phone and tapping on it. “Looks like we have all the necessary information, and neither of you has any limitations, so let’s get started, shall we?”
She begins with showing us the private rooms on the second floor, which have king-size beds, elaborate bathrooms with massive bathtubs, showers that can fit multiple people, and plunge pools on the balcony.
“Is this like a hotel?” I ask.
“In a way,” she says as we head toward the elevator. “You can rent the room by the hour or for the night. It’s for members who are looking for the complete experience. We provide room service, and you can book a couples massage while staying in the suites.”
We enter the elevator, and she presses the number three.
“As you ascend, each floor will increase in darkness,” she tells us as we step out onto the floor. “As you can see, this floor is light, filled with pinks and whites, and the relations you’ll see are on the lighter side.”
Some of the rooms have the curtains closed—which, according to Mira, means they’re not viewable to the public—while some are open, allowing outsiders to observe.
Each room has velvet couches facing the windows, where people can get comfortable to watch, as well as couches in the rooms, for those who want to hear everything that’s happening.
We stop at one room, where a couple—appearing to be in their early thirties—is having sex with the curtains open.
The man is on top, lovingly kissing down her bare breasts.
When he looks up at her, his eyes are filled with so much adoration and heat that my heart clenches in my chest. He brings his lips down to hers, and I can feel the love between them, so much so that I walk away because it feels wrong to watch the intimate encounter—despite the curtain being open.
“You good?” Kane murmurs, the softness in his tone startling me.
It reminds me of the night we spent together—before I knew he was the enemy. Kane evoked feelings within me that I had kept buried deep, only for me to learn that his feelings were fake. He’s a manipulative asshole with an agenda.
“I’m fine,” I spit, moving on to the next room.
Mira shows us a few more rooms and then walks us over to the elevator.
“As I mentioned before, each floor increases in darkness and intensity,” she says, pressing the number four.
We step off the elevator and stop just before the first room.
“You might find group sex, similar to the scenes on the third floor, but more intense. They might use toys or act out various scenes that you wouldn’t see in the rooms we were just observing.”
We step in front of the window, and I’m immediately taken aback by the scene in front of us.
A man and woman are both naked. She’s lying on her back, and he’s thrusting a dildo in and out of her.
We can’t hear her from out here, but her head is thrashing from side to side, and I imagine she’s screaming in pleasure.
My thighs clench in desire, and I glance at Kane, wondering if he’s as turned on as I am, only to find him staring at me instead of at the couple. His eyes, usually golden brown, are dark, filled with raw heat, and I force myself to look away, not wanting to give him any part of me.
We view a few more rooms, and Kane was right—I am intrigued. I always knew my sexual tastes weren’t normal, but being with Kane and then watching these couples have confirmed it. I crave control, but it’s more than that. I don’t want to be handled like glass.
My brothers, Theo, even my mom handle me with kid gloves.
They want to protect me, keep me safe, but what they don’t understand is that it’s too late for that.
I’ve already been broken, my pieces shattered, and I’ve picked them up and dragged them along with me.
I’m a survivor, strong and capable, and I want to be treated as such.
“And this is our darkest floor,” Mira says when we step onto the fifth floor.
The first window is open, and there’s a couple in the room, standing and facing one another. At first, I wonder why they’re on the darkest floor—there are no toys that I can see, and they’re both dressed.
I’m about to ask Mira when the woman turns away from the man and he pulls her back to him.
Her mouth opens in what I assume is a scream as she tries to get away, but he grabs her—hard—and throws her onto the bed.
He towers over her, ripping her shirt and then shorts off her body, and I’m transported back to six years ago.
My clothes being ripped off.
Screaming in protest.
Anthony forcing my legs open.
My eyes are on the woman and man as he flips her onto her stomach, spreads her cheeks, and forces his way into her ass, but my mind is stuck in the past.
The excruciating pain.
Begging him to stop.
Him refusing to do so.
And before I realize what I’m doing, I’m running from the room—from my past. I see the sign for the stairs, and I shove the door open, flying down each flight of stairs, needing to get as far away as possible.
But it’s pointless because no matter where I go, my past will always follow me.
It lives within me, is a part of me, and I can’t escape it.
“Brielle, stop!” I hear Kane shout, but I don’t listen.
When I reach the final door, I push it open, and I’m met with the cool January air. I suck in a harsh breath, looking both ways, ready to run—to where? I don’t know.
But before I can, strong arms wrap around me from behind, caging me in, and because I’m still stuck in my head, I kick and scream, until Kane lets go of me.
I take off in a sprint, running as fast as I can in heels, and I don’t stop until I’m down the driveway and near the guard gate.
“Brielle! What the fuck?” Kane shouts, grabbing my shoulders and spinning me around. “What the hell is going on?”