Chapter Five
Lyla
“Can I show you something?” he asks, changing the subject so quickly, as if he didn’t just blow my mind with his words.
“No,” I say firmly and defiantly, shocking even myself.
My body is screaming for me to let this man do everything he just described, but my brain… my brain had to go and interfere.
Stupid brain.
He doesn’t look surprised. He doesn’t speak. Just nods and lets out that dark, mysterious chuckle again as he turns and begins to walk away.
“That’s it?” I find the words leaving my mouth before I can stop them.
His steps come to an abrupt halt, and he turns to face me. “Consent is key, Lyla. I’m not going to force you,” he says, almost teasingly. But now, we’re back in a staring contest, only with more space between us this time.
“H-how do you even know my name?” I choke the question out nervously.
He only chuckles, pointing over my shoulder to where Spencer stands. “Your friend said it.”
Duh.
Shifting awkwardly on my feet, I ask, “What do you want to show me?”
The man's smile broadens, and he shakes his head. “If you’re so curious, come with me.”
“Or, you could just tell me,” I retort.
“Where’s the fun in that?” With slow strides, he steps toward me until he’s standing right in front of me.
Our bodies are nearly touching. My head tilts back to look at him.
Damn, he’s tall. To my surprise, he holds out a hand for me to grab.
“Come with me and find out. Let me help you find the deepest parts of yourself, the ones you try to hide away.”
What the fuck is that supposed to mean?
I don’t reach for his hand. I just stare at it. “I don’t even know your name.” My voice isn’t as bold as it was before. I’m feeling timid now, almost intimidated by his close proximity.
He leans down until we’re face to face. “Isn’t that the point of this?
” He touches his mask with his other hand.
“Anonymity and all. He leans down even more, putting our faces now a breath apart from touching. Personally, I find the not knowing sexy. Intriguing even.” His eyes roam over my body, drinking me in again.
“Well, that doesn’t seem remotely fair…since you know mine.” I don’t look away. Even though the tension is too intense, almost too much, I don’t cower. However, internally, I’m fucking panicking.
I don’t do this. I’m not the girl who goes to bars, much less gets approached in one. Especially not by a man who looks like him. But, I remind myself, it’s one night.
Another husky laugh. “Fair point.” Turning his head, his lips brush my ear, and he whispers, “Damien. My name is Damien.”
Damien.
I swallow hard at the sultry tone of his voice and the way my body is responding to it.
Damien backs up a bit, standing at his full height. He extends his hand again when he says, “Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way…shall we?”
One. Night.
Again, I remind myself it’s only one night. One night to step out of my comfort zone and do things I wouldn’t typically do.
Rolling my eyes, I intentionally ignore the offer to take his hand. Meeting his amused gaze, I say, “Where to?”
He lets out another laugh, and I can’t seem to ignore the way the vibration radiates through me.
Damien turns, and I follow cautiously behind, leaving a little space between us.
We’re making our way further down the line of the bar, causing my brow to furrow. But then, he takes a sharp right turn at the end of the bar away from the crowd of people, disappearing down a short, dimly lit hallway with only one door at the end.
I stop walking, and he must sense it because he stops ahead of me, too, and turns to face me.
“What’s wrong?”
“This. This is wrong.” I motion to the hallway and take a step back. “I’ve watched my fair share of murder documentaries, and I assure you, I won’t subject myself to being a part of one. I prefer staying in one piece and not being chopped up, thank you.”
He doesn’t laugh that dark laugh of his this time, only grins widely with curiosity as he shoves both hands into his pants pockets.
“Murdering you is the last thing I’d want to do to you.
Now a little blood play…I could get into that,” he says, smoothly, leaning his shoulder against the wall of the hallway as if he’s completely at ease.
“What exactly is it that you want to do?” I ask, my voice trembling with nerves.
He chuckles darkly, arching an eyebrow at me behind his mask, seeming more amused than bothered by my question, and the corner of his mouth curls up.
“Curious little thing, aren’t you? Haven’t I made myself and my intentions clear?
Was hearing that I want to worship your pussy with my tongue not enough for you?
Or…” he pauses, roaming his eyes over my body, which only causes me to shift nervously on my feet, “do you just want to know more about all the filthy things I’d do to you?
I can go into even more detail than I did before.
You seemed to really enjoy that. But for now, I just want to show you something.
” He lifts both his hands as if to show me he isn’t a threat, but that couldn’t be further from the truth.
The way his eyes take me in screams that he’s all predator, and I’m the prey he’s locked in on.
I just don’t know why.
However, my curiosity wins over my intelligence.
With an uneasy sigh and a dramatic eye roll, I say, “Fine.” The word is blunt, bold, and final. A complete sentence.
Without another word, he turns, leading us through the door at the end of the hallway.
It’s a private stairwell. We descend two flights of stairs in silence.
Reaching the basement level, he approaches the door and pulls out a key from his pants pocket.
Before he can put it in the lock, my hand darts out and grabs his wrist. I don’t miss the spark of electricity that races through me as our skin grazes one another's. But I ignore it.
“I can’t go in there.” I swallow hard, the nervousness I felt previously coming back tenfold. “I thought the rooms were closed to non-members? If it isn’t already obvious, I’m not a member.” I question, but it sounds more like a reprimand.
Damien looks at me. What I can see of his expression around the mask he wears is unreadable. “Oh, a little rule follower?”
“Yes,” I retort blandly.
He chuckles, shaking out of my grasp and unlocking the door. “Well, it’s a good thing I made that rule. Therefore, I can break it.”
My brow furrows. “What? I’m not sure I understand—”
My line of questioning and confusion is cut off as the door swings open, and I hear it. The moaning. The grunts. The unmistakable sound of pleasure. My thighs clench together as I shift where I stand, but not before my eyes sweep over the opening through the door, taking in the room.
Holy. Fucking. Hell.
What did I just walk into? But more importantly, why does it excite me?
Damien reaches out his hand again, gesturing for me to take it.
This time, for some odd damn reason, I do.
I clutch his hand so tightly that I can practically feel his pulse thumping steadily under my grasp.
He leads us past the threshold where a guard stands.
He nods to the other man as we walk past, hand in hand.
The room is huge, taking up the entire basement, opening up into a large circular auditorium.
There are five levels of seats that form a large circle around a center stage in a barely lit section of the vast room.
The seats on the lower levels are all single seats, spaced out relatively far apart from one another, giving each occupant privacy from the other spectators.
However, the seats here on the top level are placed in pairs, also with space between the next set of seats.
We stay on the top level, Damien silently leading the way until we find seats that have no one in the near vicinity.
He motions for me to sit, and I do without hesitation.
The seat is comfortable, plush even. However, I can’t focus on the seats when my eyes can’t seem to look away from the stage in the bottom center of the room… and what’s happening on it.
I lean in close to him, our bodies almost touching, but don’t look away from where my eyes are glued, when I drop my voice to a whisper and ask, “What. The. Fuck…is this?” The question comes out slowly, drawn out.
Damien doesn’t speak right away. His thigh brushes against mine, and he places our intertwined hands on top, causing my gaze to falter from where it was locked and flick to him. Embarrassed, I rip away from his grasp, pulling back as if the touch seared into my flesh.
“This… This is the viewing room.” His voice comes out low and husky, barely above a whisper.
“This is a space to watch. To hide in the shadows, see what intrigues you. And, if you’re brave, to be the star of the show.
This is where people come to find out what they’re interested in, and what they’re capable of. ”
His words register, and I can feel his stare boring into the side of my face, but my gaze is back on the stage. I’m enraptured and unable to look away.
There’s a woman in the center of the stage, tied up and bound to a table, on her hands and knees.
Her back is arched, ass jutting up in the air.
One man is viciously fucking her from behind.
Another stands in front of her, fucking her mouth.
There are three other men standing around, stroking their erections with one hand and touching her body with the other.
Some of the men standing around slap her tits, leaving behind red marks filled with lust that pull little whimpers from her, while others caress her skin.
The whole display is wildly erotic, and I can’t look away.
“Do you like what you see?” Damien asks, his voice so close to my ear that goose bumps erupt over my skin as his breath sweeps across it. But I ignore his question.
The sounds of pleasure she makes fill the space, sending a thrill through me. The look on her face, as if she’s enjoying every second of being worshiped by these men, is undeniably hot.
But I shouldn’t like this. Why am I here? This is not my scene. Spencer should be here. After all, this is what she’s been wanting. She’ll be pissed when she finds out—
“Why are you showing me this?” I ask, feeling flustered and confused.
Damien shrugs. “I watched you for a while out there,” he says directly, before pausing, garnering all of my attention. “Just as you’re watching her. I was curious.”
“Curious about what?” I question, with a little bite to my tone, not feeling any less confused.
Damien’s sexy, dark chuckle returns, and I don’t like the way my body responds to it, filling with heat at my core.
“Isn’t it obvious?” he asks, sounding serious.
All traces of amusement are gone from his tone.
“I’m curious about you. I want to know if you’re really as shy, reserved, and conservative as you seem, or…
” he trails off, his thigh brushing against mine again, and this time I don’t stiffen in response to the contact, but rather, lean into it.
“Is there a freak inside of you, dying to break free, waiting to be set loose to explore?” He lifts his hand, running the pads of his fingers along the exposed flesh of my neck, down to my collarbone.
“At first glance, it looked like your friend dragged you along, and you don’t want to be here.
But something tells me your curiosity is more intense than you’d like to lead on. ”
I stay seated, turning to face him and ripping off my mask, letting him clearly see me when I speak, “You don’t know me.”
Damien scoffs, clearly unimpressed at my weak retort. “I already know all I need to know, Lyla. I can see how your body responds, and what it wants is clear as fuck.” Our eyes meet, gazes locking on one another.
I swallow hard at his words, turning away from his intense stare, and look back to the stage.
The woman is now flipped over on the table, lying on her back, which is arched in pleasure as one man has his head between her legs, and another is planting kisses along her abdomen.
One of the men is pinching and pulling her nipples, causing her to yelp out in pleasure.
All while she has a cock in each of her hands, stroking them from the base to the tip.
My eyes are wide as I take it all in, my mouth watering with desire, and I have to swallow.
He isn’t wrong. What my body wants is clear as fuck.
I feel Damien shift next to me, but I pay him no mind. That is, until I feel his hand wrap around my ankle, causing my eyes to abandon the stage and dart to him. He’s still seated next to me, bent over, watching my face intently. His hand is beneath the fabric of my long dress.
My mouth falls open, and my breath becomes heavier.
He releases my ankle and bunches up my dress, pushing it up to my lap, exposing my calves. Then, with his gaze still fixed on me, he begins to slowly trail the tips of his fingers up my leg, until his hand completely vanishes under the fabric.
“W-what are you—” My question quickly dies on my lips when he forces my legs to spread open for him. I oblige without protest, my head falling back and my eyes drifting closed as his hand reaches the apex of my thigh.
“No, no, no,” Damien tsks out in a low growl, his other hand tangling in my hair until it grasps the back of my head, pulling it back upright.
“You look at me when I’m touching you. Pleasing you.
If you need to look anywhere but at me, look at that stage.
But if your eyes shut, then this stops.” His words are firm, all traces of amusement gone from his tone. “Do you want me to stop, Lyla?”
“No,” I whisper, replying honestly. Blinking, I meet his crystal eyes that have grown dark behind his mask. They’re filled with want, for me. “More. Give me more.”
I’m not sure what I’m begging for exactly, but I know I don’t want it to end here.