16. Waverly
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
WAVERLY
M y third cocktail sits in front of me, and at this point I’m more than happy to admit I’m tipsy. Between my flushed cheeks and my almost constant giggles, I’m more relaxed than I’ve been in a decade, and I’ve spent the last twenty minutes listening to Emmett tell me stories about the weird things he’s seen at the church.
So far I’ve learned that he’s not a traditional priest. He hasn’t taken vows or any of that, but he does give sermons and takes confessions from those who need to get things off their chest. He also has a kind heart as well as a dark side. He hasn’t said as much, obviously, but after so many years on the run, it’s one of the things I’ve become good at identifying. It’s a weird combination, but it kind of suits him.
He nurses his glass of whiskey between his hands as his amused eyes remain locked on me. I don’t think I’ve ever allowed myself to have a man appraise me the way I’ve let Emmett tonight, but I also don’t think I’ve ever had three drinks in an hour and a half either, so it’s a night full of firsts.
“Are you excited to start working here?” he asks.
I nod. “I’m really excited,” I admit. “The people here are so much nicer than I thought when Leighton was telling me about the job. I thought that a bunch of people at an exclusive adult club would be snobby and rude, but my experience so far has been the opposite.”
“I thought the same,” he tells me. “I thought that everyone here would be rich and awful, but Elias and Wyatt have fostered a community here that rivals any I’ve ever been a part of.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to admit that I’ve never really been a part of a community before. Growing up, I kept to myself, not wanting anyone to see how bad my home life was because Dad made me fear going into the system, and then ever since I’ve been on the run, I’ve been too busy looking over my shoulder to allow myself the opportunity. But I keep my mouth shut, instead taking a moment to look around.
It’s starting to clear out a bit, which gives me a clear view of the stage on the other side of the room. A woman kneels on a soft-looking cushion, her eyes focused on the floor in front of her as a dark-haired man approaches. His tattooed chest is on display, but his black jeans are still buttoned in place as he drops into a crouch in front of her.
His fingers wrap around her chin and tilts her face up to meet his gaze. He says something to her that I have no hope of hearing from where I’m sitting, but I swallow at the heat that rushes through my body. I never thought I’d want to submit to anyone, let alone a man. It would mean letting go of my carefully crafted control, and that’s not something I thought I was capable of up until this moment when I realize I crave it.
The man’s tattooed fingers brush over her cheek with reverence before she gives him a slight nod, her lips forming what I think is an agreement, and I realize he’s confirming her limits with her before they begin their scene.
Emmett shifts in his seat, and my eyes dart back to the sinfully beautiful man sitting across from me. For a man of God, he screams darkness. He flicks his eyes over his shoulder, and a gentle smirk tugs at his lips before he slips out of his side of the booth.
I’m about to ask where he’s going when he slides in beside me, and I shuffle over the soft leather to make room for his wide shoulders.
His sandalwood scent hits me immediately, and I drag my bottom lip between my teeth to try to regain my composure. The man beside me makes me feel out of sorts in the most delicious of ways.
The man on the stage pushes himself to his feet and crosses the space to a table I can’t see from here, but I can’t help but flick my gaze to the woman so perfectly kneeling on the cushion.
“Sienna and Micah play often,” Emmett murmurs against the shell of my ear, and I swallow heavily at his proximity.
“But he still confirmed her limits?” I ask softly, my cheeks heating at what is probably a stupid question.
“Always. They’re not in an official relationship, but even if they were, it’s important to check in regularly on limits because things can change.”
I nibble at my bottom lip as Micah moves back toward Sienna with a pair of cuffs in one hand and something else I can’t make out in the other.
He moves behind her, carefully pulling her arms behind her before securing the leather to her wrists.
“See how he’s taking his time?” Emmett asks, and I nod, not tearing my eyes from what’s happening across the room. “He’s making sure they’re not too tight. You can do real damage if you’re not careful, and Micah is one of the most experienced Doms in the club, so he takes extra care.”
Something about watching the brutal looking tattooed man with dark hair around his shoulders be so gentle makes my thighs clench together. I thought a few drinks would help to mellow me out after getting worked up on my tour, but if anything, I’m more needy than I was before.
Micah pushes himself to his feet and moves in front of Sienna before dropping back into a crouch. He says something, and she drags her eyes off the floor and up to meet his eyes before he nods down at whatever he’s holding between them.
“Nipple clamps,” Emmett whispers.
I nod, trying to think back to the books I’ve read with those mentioned. The guys I’ve been with in the past haven’t shown much interest in my breasts apart from to grope them in what they considered foreplay, but right now I’m wondering how it would feel to have someone flick their fingers over the tight buds the way Micah is Sienna’s, before securing the clips around them.
Her body tightens a moment before a tremble racks through her slight frame. Her breasts are a generous handful, and Micah takes his time teasing her before he adds the second clamp.
Emmett shuffles closer to me, and I drag my eyes off the scene to look up into the inky black pools. It seems unnatural to have eyes so dark, but they suit him. His thigh brushes against mine as his arm moves to rest along the top of the seat. “I take it by your reactions you’ve never had your pretty nipples clamped?”
I swallow heavily around the lump in my throat, wetting my lips before I can form a response. “No, I haven’t.”
“Hmm, that’s a shame.”
If I thought my cheeks couldn’t get any hotter, I was wrong. Really fucking wrong.
Emmett’s fingers brush up and down my bare arm, but I hold my attention on Sienna and Micah as the latter flicks the clamps, causing her lips to part and what I think is a moan to escape.
The subtle touch Emmett trails along my skin feels like a direct connection to my aching clit, and I barely catch my own moan.
What the hell am I doing?
I shouldn’t be letting him touch me at all, let alone in the middle of what is now my workplace.
But I can’t find it in me to ask him to stop, not when his scent envelops me, his warmth holding me captive even though the only part of him touching me is the tips of his fingers.
Micah stands again and moves toward the table as he looks over his options, but Sienna’s gaze hasn’t returned to the ground. Instead, she follows every movement he makes.
I’ve read more than a few romance books with Doms and subs, but from what I can tell, every relationship and their boundaries are different, so where one Dom may require their sub to keep their eyes downcast, another might require eye contact.
He turns back to Sienna with a vibrator in his hand, and my lips part at the sight, my expression almost matching hers.
Emmett chuckles beside me, clearly amused by my reaction to the sleek black toy, but I couldn’t tear my attention from them if I wanted to.
A few people have crowded around the stage, but I still have a perfect view from where I’m sitting. “I can see why you sit here every night,” I say softly.
“It’s the perfect place to watch,” he agrees.
“Is that what you like?”
“I like a lot of things, Waverly,” he murmurs as he drops his lips to my ear. “It’s rare I find someone I’d like to play with, so watching fills the void for me.”
I know better than to hope that I’m someone he would like to play with, and usually I wouldn’t even entertain the idea. But the mixture of his scent, the scene playing out in front of us, and the alcohol moving through my veins, I can barely think of anything other than his touch and how I know without a shadow of a doubt that he could light my body on fire if he wanted to.