Chapter 3
Three
Hannah
I’m not the type of girl who shows up all willy-nilly to a sex club. Hell, I’m not even the type of girl who has a one-night stand. Yet here I am, checking another one of my I-would-nevers off my list.
“You got this,” I breathe to myself, and step out of the Uber on wobbly high heels.
All I need to do is go in there, seduce a willing participant, and make sure his hands don’t roam where I don’t want them to.
Taking a tiny bottle out of my purse, I unscrew the lid and toss back the liquor.
Liquid courage burns its way down my throat as I twist the cap back on, toss the little plastic bottle back into my purse with the other five empty ones, and prance through the black door with a new level of confidence.
The dim entrance is bathed in purple accent lights, and a metal sign with the word Elixir—lit in matching purple—hangs on the wall behind a sleek black desk.
I stumble my way to the desk and greet the gorgeous blonde sitting behind it. A short, sexy leather dress, similar to mine, shows off her massive boobs. I have to admit; I’m a tad bit envious of her . . . assets.
“Hi. I’m Hannah.”
Casting a glance around to make sure no one’s listening, I lean towards her and whisper, “I’m here to screw.”
She lifts one brow, and I try to raise one back, but I think I’m wiggling both instead. I keep trying but . . .
Oh, to hell with it.
“Membership card,” she finally says, holding out her hand.
Confused, I tilt my head. “You need a membership card to get into this place? Like a Sam’s or Costco card or something?” I ask, sifting through my empty bottles to get to my wallet. “Geez. Nobody ever mentioned that.”
So many damn bottles.
One by one, I line them up on her desk so they’re out of my way. “How much is that? Forty dollars?” I ask, pulling out my wallet.
“One hundred and fifty thousand dollars.”
“One hundred and fifty thousand dollars to screw someone?!” I screech.
“Hannah. Come here.”
Shit!
I drop to the ground and crawl to the other side of the desk, feeling the air in the room skim across my ass cheeks.
This is bad. Really bad. It never crossed my mind that someone who knows me would be here.
“Hannah can’t come to the phone right now.” I peer up at the hostess with pleading eyes, hoping she’ll help me out, and whisper yell, “Whoever it is, please don’t tell him I’m down here.”
“Don’t make me repeat myself. Come to me. Now.”
The command in his voice sends a shiver up my spine. I squeeze my eyes tight, then peek around the desk with one eye open.
What the hell?
“Nate! Hi! What are you doing in New York?” I ask, crawling to him.
“I live here now. The question is, what are you doing in my club? Does your boyfriend know you’re in here, crawling on your hands and knees to me?” he asks, taking my hand and helping me up.
I blink. Boyfriend? My brows pull together in confusion.
“I don’t have a boyfriend.”
“Does he know that?”
Are we talking in riddles, or am I that drunk?
“Come.”
Oh, I’d like to come alright. I stumble behind him as he leads me past the black velvet curtains—deeper into the club—and sets me down on a stool at a circular bar.
Bass thumps through the speakers, and I turn my head, watching patrons mingle and dance on the dance floor. This does not look like a sex club.
“Luca, get her some water.”
Nate sits beside me, and Luca, the bartender, busies himself by filling a glass before sliding it over to me.
“I’ve had enough to drink.”
“Clearly,” Nate states.
“Sitting at a bar drinking water isn’t what I came here to do.” I trail my hand up his chest until my fingertips rest underneath his chin. Pulling him closer, my lips graze the shell of his ear as I channel my inner seductress. “I came to fuck. Now, you wanna give me a tour of your sex dungeon?”
His blue eyes pierce mine as I lean back, and he rakes a hand through his black hair, studying me.
“Can you walk straight?”
“Probably not.” I giggle.
He stands, and as he walks away, I follow behind him, stumbling and bumping into people along the way. When we finally make it to the back of the club, he swipes a card, glancing back at me with a smirk as he pushes the door open.
As soon as the door closes behind us, Nate backs me against the wall, sweeping my hair aside. I lean in to kiss him, but instead of feeling his mouth on mine, his breath hits my ear, “Tell me, sweet Hannah, do you like to watch . . . or be watched?”
When he leans back, I stare at him wide-eyed.
“Answer the question.”
Swallowing hard, I close my eyes.
“Eyes on me,” he demands, and my eyes fly open, locking with his. “Good girl. Now, answer me.”
His tone, the way he commands, reminds me so much of Sean. I came to get over him, but maybe this is what I need—to pretend someone else is him. Yeah, like an ointment to soothe a burn.
“Both.”
“Good. A lot of eyes will be on you tonight.”
Stepping back, he turns and guides me through a dark hallway, then stops to scan his card again.
Holding another door open, he allows me to pass.
Low amber lights glow from recessed strips along the ceiling, not bright enough to see much of anything, but enough to make out the bed in the center of the room and the objects hanging from brass hooks next to me.
Ropes. Leather cuffs. Silk restraints. From another polished rack hang floggers, paddles, and crops. The room spins around me, and I sway. Placing my hand on the wall to keep myself from falling, my fingers graze the silk restraint.
Ooh. That’s nice.
He steps behind me, plucking it off the hook, and I realize I must’ve said that out loud.
“You like this one?”
“It’s pretty,” I say, swallowing the lump in my throat.
The red silk glides along my skin, and as he begins to bind my wrists, apprehension and guilt stirs in my gut. I feel as though I’m doing something wrong even though I’m at liberty to do whatever the hell I want.
“I don’t touch what doesn’t belong to me,” he says in a smooth, velvety voice, pulling the silk tighter against my wrists. “And you, sweet Hannah, most certainly do not belong to me.”
“I don’t belong to anyone,” I argue.
“Oh, but you do. Which means you shouldn’t be here.”
What the hell?
“You need to learn a lesson, and as it so happens, degradation is a kink of mine.”
I’m too damn drunk to figure out what the hell he’s talking about right now.
“Sometimes when we’re drunk, we do reckless things. Things we later regret. You don’t want to regret anything, do you?”
“N-No.”
“No, what?”
“No, sir.”
“Good girl.”
He strokes my head, and I close my eyes, imagining Sean’s commanding voice in my ear. The way his eyes hold me captive. The feel of his hands on my body. My throat tightens along with my chest, and my eyes sting, but I suppress the emotion and fight back the tears.
“You’re going to walk back to the bar, call someone to pick you up, and until they arrive, you’ll sit there with your wrists bound.
” He lifts my chin with his fingertips, his eyes locking with mine.
“I’m going to enjoy watching you squirm on that barstool, feeling every set of eyes on you .
. . shaming you for trying to fuck someone you shouldn’t. Do you understand?”
“Fuck someone I shouldn’t? You make money from people fucking. I am people. I want to fuck.”
“No.”
“Nate, for one night, just one damn night—”
“No.”
“No? Then unbind me and I’ll find someone else who will,” I argue, holding out my wrists. “Take this off. Now.”
He lifts one brow. “There’s not a single soul in my club that will touch you without my permission.
I’m not in the business of fucking over my friends, and as far as I’m concerned, you still belong to Sean.
Now you will go out there and do as I say or I will call him myself to pick you up, do you understand? ”
“Fine,” I snap.
Sean’s the very last person I want to see.
With my head hanging in embarrassment, I stumble in front of Nate with my wrists bound in front of me while he guides me with his hand on the small of my back.
Luca sets my purse on the bar, and Nate reaches into the bag, plucks out my phone, then places it into my hands.
I dial the one man in my life who’s stood by me through everything.
As I wait for Aiden to pick me up, I close my eyes, and everything goes dark.