Chapter Seven
Lyla
My eyes widen in surprise. “The warm-up?” I choke out the question, swallowing hard.
My legs are still shaking, and I’ve barely caught my breath. And he calls that a warm-up? I’m almost scared to see what he’ll have in store for the full experience.
“Mmm-hmm,” he drawls out with a laugh. “Come on, Lyla. Let’s get out of here. There’s still so much more for you to see.”
“More?” I ask, feeling slightly nervous now. “There’s more than this?” I motion to the stage.
“So much more.” He laughs, sounding almost cynical this time. This man just ate me like I was his last fucking meal…and he still isn’t done with me? The thought alone sends a shiver of thrill racing down my spine. “Let’s go.”
This time, when he holds his hand out to lead me, I don’t hesitate to take it.
What’s next? What else could he possibly have in store for me?
I’m unsure, but I’m eager to find out.
Leading the way through the row of seats in the auditorium, we head toward the same door we entered through. He stops, speaking briefly to the man guarding the door. “Jaeko, no need to follow. You can stay here. Enjoy yourself.”
Jaeko doesn’t respond; he just nods to Damien before returning his gaze toward the stage.
Following behind Damien, we make our way back to the private stairwell and ascend to the third floor in silence. As uncertain as I am with what to expect next, I follow him willingly, with a thrill of excitement racing through me.
As we reach the door leading us out of the stairwell, he looks at me and says, “You can back out now, if you want.”
He’s giving me an out before this goes any further than it already has. I should back out. Turn around and head out the door, never looking back.
“No.” The word and decision escape my mouth before I can stop it.
Who the fuck am I? I don’t do shit like this.
Damien takes that as an invitation to proceed, then punches in a passcode on the keypad next to the door in front of us.
“Is this entire floor locked?” I ask, confused.
Damien nods as he pushes open the door.
“Typically, locked doors mean we aren’t supposed to enter, especially as nonmembers. Are you trying to get us both kicked out?”
His dark laugh fills the space between us as one of his hands wraps around my waist, pulling me into him, our bodies colliding. “And were you a member when I ate you out in the viewing room?” His voice is smooth, seductive, and it does something to me.
A blush rises to my cheeks, hearing him speak so easily about what he just did to me, as if it weren’t the most erotic thing I’ve ever experienced in my life.
“Well," I swallow, feeling a bit intimidated. “No, but—”
“Do you not remember what I said to you earlier?” he asks, his eyes locked on mine.
I don’t respond, just shake my head.
“I made the fucking rule. I can break it. And trust me, you make me want to break more than just that rule.”
My gaze shifts away nervously, landing on the floor, before finding his intense stare once again. “You made the rule? I have no clue what that’s supposed to mean. ”
He chuckles. “It’s my club.” Releasing me, he turns and walks through the door, leaving me standing there breathless and stumbling for words.
I scoff, following behind him. “Your club?”
“Yeah,” he says, before he stops in his tracks and turns to face me. “My club. Does that scare you?”
Yes. Yes, it fucking does. I’m what most people would call vanilla. And here I am following behind the owner of a fucking sex dungeon. He is much more experienced than I am.
What the fuck have I gotten myself into?
I shake my head but don’t speak the words, afraid my tone will betray me.
Damien smirks, stepping closer to me. His presence alone is intimidating, all-consuming. “If you aren’t scared, then say it. Speak the words.”
Swallowing hard, I say, “I’m not scared, Damien.”
“Mmm,” he groans, running the pads of his fingers down my face until he’s cupping my cheek. “I like the way my name sounds rolling off your tongue.” He leans in, leaving our faces a breath apart. “But, we’ll see about that. We’ll see just how brave you are.”
He backs away again, turning to the long hallway that’s filled with multiple doors, all painted black—the same as the walls—and all closed.
“I can handle it all. Like I said, still not scared. What’s next?” I ask in challenge, attempting, yet failing, to hide the tremble in my tone.
As he continues down the long hallway, he says over his shoulder, “You’ll see.”
We make it about halfway before he stops at one of the random doors and opens it, instantly flicking on the lights. There, in the center of the room, I’m met with the sight of a suspended leather swing with attached restraints.
“Is that a…sex swing?” I ask, dumbly.
It’s obviously a fucking sex swing, Lyla.
I’ve never seen one in person, only heard about them. Damien nods and says, “Yes, it is. And you’d look so fucking good tangled up in it.”
“Is that what’s next?” I ask, swallowing hard, imagining being in it as he fucks me vigorously, with minimal limitations between us. I imagine the feel of his hands gripping my hips as he tugs me to him, slamming his cock inside me.
After a few moments of silence, my gaze flicks to Damien, who's watching me with purpose, as if he’s waiting to see something that doesn’t come.
He’s waiting for fear. He thinks he’ll scare me off. He’s waiting for me to wave the white flag.
Finally, after taking me in and realizing I’m not backing down, Damien speaks up. “No. I have something much better in mind for you.” His voice is sultry, and the challenge there sets me alive.
He takes my hand and leads me out of the entryway of the swing room, closes the door, and we head down the hall once again. Hand in hand, we walk in a comfortable silence, and now I’m intrigued to see what's next.
We stop at a few more doors that obviously lead to more sex-themed rooms. One boasted a large bed with restraints attached and a hole in the footboard.
When I asked Damien what the hole was for, he didn’t hesitate to pull me into the room, giving me a demonstration of how the bed comes apart, and that’s where my neck would rest. Just when I thought he was about to lock me in there and have his way with me, he spoke up.
“This isn’t the room we’re using either, Lyla,” and we hastily move on.
We reach the very last door, in the center of the hallway, and he makes quick work of pulling out a key from his pocket and unlocking the door.
Why is this the only room that’s individually locked?
He hesitates before swinging it open, then turns to me and asks, “Are you sure you aren’t scared?
I can hear your heart pounding from here. ”
“I’m fine,” I lie, walking past him, into the room, immediately stopping at the sight before me.
The walls are painted a dark green, appearing nearly black.
The space is lit by wall sconces emitting a low amber light, giving off an elegant yet sexy vibe.
But none of that is what has my attention.
No. It’s the giant throne against the wall at the far end of the room, with chains and cuffs attached to it, that has all of my attention.
After standing there dumbfounded for longer than I should, I finally turn to Damien. “What the hell is this?”
He steps into the room, shutting the door behind him, and quickly closes the space between us. Brushing a piece of stray hair behind my ear, he lets his fingertips dance across my skin, tracing patterns down my neck that lead to my collarbone.
“Each private room here has a certain theme, giving members options to choose from, all depending on their interests. And this,” he says on a dark chuckle, waving his hand, gesturing toward the room, “is the throne room. It’s my private space here.
I’m the only one with access to this specific room.
” His voice is smooth like honey, coating its way down to my core, causing heat to bloom in its wake.
Taking a moment to soak in what I’m seeing, I look back to the throne and swallow hard with anxious anticipation as I nervously bite down on my lip. “Why did you bring me here?” The question comes out softly.
For a moment, I’m unsure if Damien heard me. Until I feel his presence looming behind me, closing in, and his hands begin to ghost over my hips, barely touching me, but it’s just enough to set my body ablaze and have me craving more.
“I want to see…” He begins to speak, but stops himself short.
My mouth falls open slightly. “See what?” The question is filled with hesitation and uncertainty, genuinely unsure if I want his answer.
Damien’s hands dig into the flesh of my hips, and with one swift movement, he’s spinning me to face him, bringing our faces merely inches apart.
Raising one hand, he again drags the tips of his fingers along my exposed collarbone, this time slowly trailing them down my arm.
Time freezes, my breath hitches at the sensual movement, and I’m only able to focus on his touch.
His heavy breaths coat my skin as he leans in closer, closing the distance between us.
Just when I think his mouth is finally going to collide with mine, he responds, “I want to see exactly how brave you are. You already let me feast on your delicious pussy. How much further will you let this go before you’re scared off? ”
I scoff, rolling my eyes and pulling back slightly. “Is that what you want? To scare me off?”
“Fuck no,” he says breathlessly.
“Then what is it that you do want? Be sure to use your words, Damien.”
Our eyes connect, and he arches a curious brow at me. “You want to know all of my filthy intentions where you’re concerned?”
“Yes,” I reply simply, more of a command than a request.
He lets out another dark chuckle, just as he starts walking me backward with him, until he has my back pressed against the closest wall, next to the door.
He releases my hip, and both hands slide down to my thighs, grabbing them and lifting until my legs wrap around his waist. Holding me up by my ass, he squeezes hard and quickly eases the sting by massaging his smooth hands into my skin, causing a moan to fall from my lips.
“Does this answer your question?” he asks as he thrusts his hips against me, allowing me to feel just how fucking hard he is.