Chapter Twenty-One
I pretended like I belonged, like I’d seen this forbidden zone before as a rush of adrenaline heightened my senses. A gut feeling was warning me to turn back.
Get the hell out of here.
Don’t take one more step.
But I continued down the hallway, heels sinking into the crimson carpet that stretched all the way to a distant doorway.
The scent of incense and candle wax was reminiscent of a church beckoning the faithful. Only here, they worshiped a different kind of God, a religion filled with excess, where indulgence was the sacrament—not just encouraged, but revered.
More startling was that a few nights ago, I had discovered Greyson was into this kind of scene, this alluring erotic playground.
The walled mirrors on either side reflected a lone woman scurrying along the corridor, a woman who didn’t belong, her expression full of fear. I dared not look back, in case those two women tried to cajole me into going in a direction where I would end up becoming trapped.
I reached the end of the hall. Drawing in a sharp breath, I burst through the doorway.
Ahead, lay another corridor, tall pillars framing a grand doorway that appeared too daunting to enter.
I hurried through the entrance, coming to a halt once inside.
A man lounged in a corner chair, one long leg draped over the other, his face obscured by an intricate masquerade mask. His elegant tuxedo clung perfectly to his athletic frame.
I swallowed hard, ready to back out.
There, on an ornate table, sat the Bombay Sapphire. The bottle was half empty since I had poured drinks from it earlier.
“Hello, Willa,” the man said, his voice husky, eyes boring into me. “I’ve been expecting you.”
My breath halted, heart pounding. “How did you know I’d choose this room?”
“Wild guess.”
I should turn and bolt, head out the way I’d come. Only there was something about him, his familiar eyes, his voice deep and articulate.
I looked around the room, checking for another exit.
Paneled mahogany walls were polished to a deep sheen adding to the intimidating ambiance. The room lacked windows, as though letting in natural light might give power to the divine.
There was a chain in the corner, coiled in a sinister circle. I smelled a hint of expensive whiskey, adding to the oppressive atmosphere. Despite the undeniable elegance, there was a sense of something hidden, something dark.
I’d caught a glimpse of what they valued here; that woman and that apple were etched into my memory.
I glanced over at the half-empty bottle of gin I’d used as an extravagant prop. It sat there on the long table, its presence designed to unsettle.
I felt with chilling certainty that I had breached the most dangerous threshold of the club.
“I found the elevator.” My voice sounded foreign to me.
His eyes widened behind the mask. “I can see that.”
He stood up slowly, commanding the room with a sophisticated, unshakable resolve. His dark eyes looked familiar.
“Oh, God,” I whispered. “Who are you?”
I knew, even before he slid his mask up.
Greyson’s striking face was revealed—his sharp features, flawless jawline, cleanly shaven with precision. His hair style was effortless disarray, showing rebellious charm.
He approached me, his movement deliberate. The fabric of his tuxedo dark and luminous in the subdued light, accentuating every contour. The atmosphere stilled into silence as he came to stand before me, close enough to reach out and touch me, causing my heart to race with anticipation.
This time, though, I was wearing this —a seductive bodice that literally screamed fuck me.
I lifted my mask, resting it on my head, ready to pull it down if anyone walked in.
“You have some nerve,” he said angrily.
This electric charge between us caused me to hold my breath, it was the way he peered down with an unspoken threat of a punishment.
I’d never recover from a man like Greyson.
I let out a silken sigh. “You’re Grantchester.”
He raised an eyebrow, his gaze never wavering.
This man had deliberately kept his identity a secret—a renowned architect. Never mentioning it was a true power move.
“Do you have any idea of the risk you took infiltrating Pendulum?” His voice sounded huskier with its contained fury. “Not just to you, but to your family.”
Pendulum! I finally knew its name.
“Yes, but—”
“No excuses.” His words cut through the air with swift admonishment.
My wry smile revealed my amusement at the way he scolded me. “I’m not here to see you.”
“Jewel?” He looked horrified. “What are you trying to accomplish?”
“There’s a story here.”
His brows shot up. “Well, you made it inside, Willa. Now what?”
“You tell me.”
He came closer, and the threat of him pressing his chest against mine became all too real.
“Stay out of my way, Mr. Grantchester.”
He tilted his head. “Excuse me?”
“You heard what I said.”
His jaw twitched with annoyance. “You can call me Greyson.”
“I just want to look around.”
He shook his head. “Time to leave.”
I swallowed hard.
“Leave now, and maybe I’ll let you come back when the place is…mine.”
“What?”
“I’m buying Pendulum.” He watched my reaction and seemed to draw pleasure from it.
“You’re buying a…” My mouth went dry.
“It’s not a place you want to get caught trespassing.”
“Aren’t you secretly proud of me for finding my way inside?”
“I’m actually scared for you.” He shrugged. “The allure of the forbidden, Willa? Is that what this is? Under the guise of a story.”
“Show me around. What would be the worst thing I’d see?”
He gave me a wicked smile. “Everyone staring at you being fucked. Hard.”
“By you?” My jaw dropped in mock horror.
He caressed his brow in frustration. I’d shown him his intimidation wouldn’t work.
“I see right through you,” he said.
“What do you see?”
“You’re intrigued by the scene.” He looked at me intently. “You crave a sexual adventure. You tell yourself it’s all about journalistic integrity, but really, you crave what we offer.”
“We?”
“Continue with this and I will spank you so hard you won’t be able to sit for a week.”
“That’s assault.”
“Slapping your cunt at the same time, and then making you come, is pure pleasure.”
“With consent,” I jabbed back.
“That’s why this place is dangerous, Willa.”
The way he said my name caused me to draw in a sharp breath, as though he’d spanked my clit, causing me to shudder. It was the way he teased me with stern words, the way he thought it was fine to say these things to me.
Even with this space between us, his ability to make my body react was remarkable.
His charisma was mesmerizing.
Greyson’s commanding confidence exuded the presence of an alpha—an aura Hugo could never match. Next to him, Hugo seemed boyish.
My fingers caressed my lips, recalling our kiss back at the hotel, and I hoped that maybe he’d kiss me like that again.
Greyson lunged forward and stomped his foot.
Spooked, I leaped back, heart thundering.
He took another step towards me and my back hit the wall. I blinked up at him, flirting with this tall devil.
“Enjoying the thrill?” He snarled at my show of vulnerability.
I was clearly turned on by his play of words.
He looked me up and down. “Submissive. Good for you.”
“It’s an outfit.”
“It’s permission.”
“To what?” But I already knew. My reckless fascination was clearly a hazard in a place like this.
“You think you’re chasing a story. But here, you are the story.”
“Not true.”
“Give it to me,” he demanded.
“What are you talking about?”
“I will search you.” His intense gaze said, “ You have seconds in which to decide because I’ve lost all patience with you.”
I slid my hand into my bra and pulled out the tiny camera, opening my palm to reveal it.
“If they found that…” His face contorted in agony, and he took the camera away from me. “You’re a self-entitled young woman,” he said bitterly.
“And yet from the moment you met me, you wanted me.”
“You really believe that?”
“I saw it in your eyes. Desire.”
“You wouldn’t like my brand of desire, Willa.”
“Try me.”
“Is that an invitation?”
“Take me, Greyson.” The words slipped out like a prayer, because I knew if anyone could help me forget Hugo, this man could. Greyson would be the one to mark me even if it was just for a while—soften the memory of the other person who broke my heart into a thousand pieces.
His expression became unreadable.
I met his gaze. “What?”
“How dare you tease me with your ecstatic beauty.”
No one had ever spoken to me like this before.
Shivering, I felt an urgent need for him that blocked out this place and what it was, what it stood for. All I could see was him, a brilliant man who didn’t flinch when I walked in the room, a man who could hold his own and snap back at my retorts.
“What do you really want?” His jaw tensed.
My hands were already on the cups of my bodice, tugging it down, exposing my erect nipples, revealing the pinky aureoles that craved his touch—an invitation to him.
Greyson dragged his teeth along his bottom lip as he studied my breasts, giving away that he wanted to kiss me there, lick me… And then his gaze snapped up to meet mine.
I have to beg?
His hand reached out and wrapped around my throat. He squeezed, the pressure harsh and punishing, his touch warm and intense on my neck.
I felt vulnerable with my tits exposed.
A myriad of sensations washed over me as my legs weakened, followed by a rush of blood to my face and a burning in my throat, causing me to tremble. I imagined his hand twisting a nipple, making it harden.
He was cutting off my air.
I clutched at his wrist, as though it would help, as though peeling off his fingers was something I could do.
Greyson’s ironclad grip was too strong, too insistent, preventing air from filling my lungs. I saw white specks, my vision blurring as I started to panic. My wide eyes begged him to stop.
“Your nipples are erect,” he said gruffly. “Interesting.”
An awful realization snatched my thoughts back from the brink. I liked it, the fear of this kink had morphed into a stark thrill for our fascinating interplay, his domination and my looming surrender.
He released his grip on my throat.
“Fuck me,” I gasped out.
“You’d like my cock inside you?”
“Yes.”
“Like to come hard?”
“Yes.”
“Call me sir.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Never going to happen.” He’d teased me cruelly, a harsh trick to make me believe this was futile.
“But you—”
“You’ve shown no respect.” His tone was heavy with the unspoken promise of retribution.
It stripped me of my own arrogance, and my gaze lowered in shame, responding to his air of menace.
“You have no comprehension of what it is to be annihilated,” he continued. “Total obliteration.”
“Please—”
“No. This is where you listen. Where you hold your silence. You come in here dressed as a submissive, but you have no idea what you are presenting yourself as.”
I begged him with my eyes to step back and let me leave, because disappointing him hurt more.
I would never be able to face him again.
Not after this.
His tone softened. “This isn’t you, Willa. You are a different species. You deserve to be worshipped with pleasure. Not humiliated.”
His dark eyes surveyed my breasts with a mix of tenderness and yearning, his reaction palpable, his tongue briefly flicking at his lips as if they were already anticipating the taste.
“Please,” I said, beckoning.
I shuddered, nearly swooning, as his thumb answered my prayer, caressing my breast surreptitiously as his other hand returned to gently grip my throat.
He ran his forefinger over my areola, and then twisted my nipple with precision, drawing out a gasp of arousal from me.
“Good girls are rewarded with bliss. But you, Willa, won’t be experiencing that any time soon.”
Yet he continued to circle that soft pinkness, making my flesh tingle, shooting pleasure down between my thighs, causing my clit to throb deliciously.
I craved him, craved a forbidden affair with only him.
His eyelids looked heavy. “Be careful, the line between passion and recklessness is thinner than you think.”
“You hate me?” I stuttered.
He leaned in and his lips pressed to my forehead with a touch of kindness to complement his sensual grip on my throat.
I had become too aroused to think straight, to talk, or ask for anything but these passing seconds with him in this room.
I felt flooded with comfort as I tried to peer behind the veil of confusion, heart aching to be understood, to have my erotic needs deciphered by him.
I covered my other breast with my palm, suddenly feeling naked. “How do I become your submissive?”
“Never.”
“Why?”
“It’s an unvarnished experience. You will be stripped of more than just your clothes, you’d be stripped to the core of your humanness. Serving a Dom is a commitment forged in the crucible discipline. Training is relentless, designed so that you endure great pleasure. A constant life of multiple orgasms under the order of a master who understands and honors your boundaries.”
Oh, God. I wanted this. How could anyone not desire him.
He brushed a strand of hair out of my eyes. “You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever met, but our paths can’t cross again.”
The air was heavy with the scent of incense seeping in from beneath the door. The expression in his eyes told me he knew what that scent meant. Something was happening out there.
Greyson stepped away and stalked to the other side of the room. He reached for a masquerade mask and dragged a cloak off the back of the chair and brought it over.
In silence, he helped me ease my bodice up over my breasts, the sensation causing a shiver of pleasure. He wrapped me in his cloak.
I felt relieved that it covered me completely.
He pulled my masquerade mask down to cover my face, standing close, his subtle cologne seeping into my senses, winding its way through my lungs and into my bloodstream—a potent aphrodisiac I’d never forget.
“I’m taking you home,” he whispered.
“To your place?” I braved to ask.
“Forget everything you have seen.”
“I’ll try,” I said breathlessly.
His stared across the room.
I stiffened, a primal tension coursing through me, a weight settling on my chest. It was fear suffocating me, tightening every muscle in its wake.
Jewel Hadley was standing there. It was strange to see her here, in a place like this, radiating a dangerous allure. A black gown clung to her form. Her ornate mask dangled from her manicured hand. It was a haunting masterpiece of gleaming blue lacquer.
Beneath the hem of her midnight-colored cloak, I saw the sharp glint of silver heels.
She used her mask to point at me. “Who is this?”
My hand shot up to my own mask, glad to be hidden by it, along with the cape that camouflaged my figure.
It would be a disaster if she recognized me.
“My new submissive,” said Greyson calmly.
“New?”
He nodded.
She walked towards us. “Let me see her.”