Chapter 9 #2
A pause. Then a dark chuckle.
“Liar.”
He doesn’t wait for my next excuse. The zipper clicks into place, and he steps back slowly, deliberately, as if reclaiming every inch of space he just invaded.
But the damage is done.
I’m dressed in a fantasy and stripped bare all at once.
“You look beautiful,” he says, his voice gentler, almost reverent. It makes my cheeks flush.
I turn toward him, my eyes flicking down to the dress. “You have good taste,” I mumble, suddenly shy beneath the weight of his gaze.
“That I do.”
But when I glance back up, he’s not looking at the dress. Or the heels. Or the jewelry. Just me.
And the raw, unfiltered hunger in his eyes sends a full-body tremble through me. “Wait here.” He steps away, and to my surprise, I feel his absence immediately. The warmth, the scent of him still clinging to the air. It’s ridiculous how fast I miss him.
But he returns within seconds, something tucked behind his back. When he finally reveals it, my breath catches. A bouquet of pristine white calla lilies, elegant and understated, like everything he does.
“Oh… Calvin.” My voice dips as I take them, the silky petals cool against my fingers. I bring them close, inhaling their faint, clean fragrance. I’ve never really cared for flowers, but right now I’m completely undone.
“I didn’t know your favorite,” he admits. “So I asked the florist. She said these stand for beauty and magnificence.”
A soft smile spreads across my lips. “I don’t have a favorite. I don’t usually get flowers. But these are beautiful.” I peek at him over the bouquet, teasing lightly. “Beauty and magnificence, huh? You didn’t really learn that from a florist, did you?”
His chuckle rumbles. “I’m not sure how I feel about you reading me so easily.”
“Same.” I mean it. There’s something unsettling about how easy it is with him, how well we read each other even when we’re trying not to.
Our eyes lock. And just like that, the playfulness fades. Something wants to be said. Or done. But neither of us moves.
Finally, he breaks the silence, almost cautiously. “My dad used to bring flowers to my mom every week,” he says, a flicker of something warm and sad lighting his expression. “He taught my brother and me all about their meanings. The man was a big romantic at heart. A total sap.”
He tries to play it off with a grin, but there’s a fragility and tenderness beneath the words.
“Was?” I ask gently, catching the tightness in his jaw.
“We lost him a few years ago,” he says like the words are being dragged up from somewhere buried.
Something inside me clenches. The pain of that kind of loss, the kind that shifts your entire world, I can’t even imagine.
Before I can second-guess myself, I move toward him, wrapping my arms around his torso.
He stiffens for a half-second, surprised maybe, but then his hands settle on my back, holding me there.
“I’m so sorry, Calvin,” I whisper against his chest. “How did it happen?”
He pulls back just enough to tilt my chin up, his touch so gentle it nearly breaks me. “I’ll tell you another day.”
I nod, and even though I step back, there’s a part of me that wants to stay wrapped in that moment forever.
“Ready?” he asks, extending his arm.
This time, I don’t hesitate. I slide mine through his, letting him lead me.
When we reach the underground garage, a sleek, jet-black sports car is waiting, low, fast, and definitely expensive. Calvin opens the passenger door with an effortless kind of cool, and I sink into the leather seat, the interior cocooning me in luxury.
He climbs in beside me, adjusts his seat, and starts the engine. A low, delicious rumble fills the space. Then music kicks in, smooth R&B, something dark and sultry pulsing through the car like a second heartbeat.
We ease onto the road, and the city lights blur into a warm glow. The ride is surprisingly easy, comfortable in a way that feels… familiar. Like this is something we’ve always done.
I catch myself bobbing along to the beat, mouthing the lyrics under my breath. It’s stupid, but I feel good. Light.
“Where are we going?” I ask when we’ve been driving for close to twenty minutes.
“You’ll see, nosy,” he says with a laugh, that deep, rich sound that makes my stomach flutter. I want to hear it again. And again.
We drive a few more miles, the city lights growing distant behind us, until we reach a building with no name or sign. Just a tall, black gate and two stone-faced security guards standing under a soft pool of light.
Calvin rolls down the window and pulls a sleek black card from his wallet. It gleams under the lights as he hands it over.
“She’s my guest,” he says simply.
The guard nods once, scanning the card with a small handheld device. Then he leans forward, handing Calvin a second item, a slim velvet box.
“Enjoy your night, sir.”
No questions or hesitation, But that quiet exchange feels like it unlocked something forbidden.
Calvin drives forward, following a winding path that leads to an underground garage. Once he parks, he turns to me, eyes glittering in the dim light.
“Give me your hand.”
Without thinking, I offer it to him. He opens the box, revealing a thin black wristband with a gold clasp. It looks more like a piece of jewelry than anything functional. He fastens it around my wrist with care, brushing his thumb over the inside of my arm when he’s done.
“This gives you entry,” he says.
“Entry where?” I whisper, adrenaline mingling with unease.
He doesn’t answer. Instead, he steps out, walking around to open my door. I take his hand and slide out of the car, heels clicking on polished stone.
“A gentleman’s club,” he says at last, lips curved into a smirk.
“A what now?” I blink, trying to piece together what kind of gentleman’s club requires encrypted cards and velvet wristbands.
“You’ll see soon enough.”
We approach another door, this one framed in black steel, with no handle. Just another scanner. He flashes his card again. Then, before I can even process it, he lifts my wrist, presenting the band for scanning. It beeps softly.
The door opens with a whisper.
The air changes immediately. Inside, the atmosphere is rich and charged, like stepping into another realm.
The lobby alone is a vision of decadence, plush black velvet, flickering candlelight, gilded mirrors, and music so soft it feels like a hum against the skin.
The scent of something expensive, amber, sandalwood, a hint of smoke, clings to the air.
But it’s the people who hold my attention.
Some are dressed to kill, men in suits, women in designer lingerie and stilettos, sipping champagne, whispering behind masks, touching as if they’ve known each other for years, or maybe just minutes.
But others are fully on display. One woman kneels at the feet of a man in a velvet jacket, his fingers tangled in her hair as he feeds her bites of chocolate between whispered commands.
In the center of the room, a scene unfolds that stops me cold.
A girl. Two men. A leash. One buried deep in her mouth, the other behind her, their movements perfectly in sync, her moans muffled and desperate. It’s obscene and hypnotic, raw in a way I’ve never seen in real life. My face burns, but I can’t look away.
Calvin leans in, his breath grazing my neck as he tugs me forward. “This way.”
We weave through the room, and I can feel my pulse in my fingertips. I’m so far out of my depth I can’t even see the shoreline.
“You liked that, didn’t you?” he murmurs, so close I feel his lips against my ear. “Watching them use her like she was made for it.”
I swallow hard, too stunned to speak.
“You turn beet red when you’re flustered,” he adds, amused. “Tell me… do other parts of you flush that easily?”
“Calvin…” I whisper, my knees threatening to give out.
He chuckles wickedly as the elevator doors slide open. “You’re going to be fun.”
The elevator glides upward in silence, my nerves on fire under my skin.
When the doors open again, we step into a hallway lit only by flickering sconces.
It feels like walking deeper into temptation.
Calvin leads me to the last door, a smooth pane of black wood.
He swipes his card, and with a soft click, it opens.
The room is elegant but voyeuristic. One wall is entirely glass, looking out over a lower floor soaked in red light. There’s a Saint Andrew’s cross, a padded bench, cages, silk ropes, and more. Bodies move slowly beneath us, entangled in erotic rituals.
Our space is more subdued, a queen-sized bed with rich sheets, a velvet sofa, and a table laid with decadent snacks and chilled wine.
I drift toward the window, unable to look away.
“Can they see us?” I ask.
“No.” His voice is right behind me, making me jump slightly.
I turn to him. “Are you a dom?”