Chapter 12 #3
He does a little bow of the head and moves away, and I take my hand back out of my pocket.
Turning back to the room, I soak in the kaleidoscope of color and music and smiling people, and after a moment, I notice the older men. A few young ones, but most of the guys are middle-aged. Established businessmen. I mowed their lawns in high school.
I walk around, passing a couch with a girl in a jeweled bra and belly chain getting it in both ends.
There are no older women, though. Definitely some in their forties, but it’s mostly new brides, young mothers, maybe some recent graduates finally returned from college.
Anna-Katherine springs to mind.
She’s twenty. Callum is unmarried and plays in here.
I slow my pace, dropping my eyes. She hasn’t been in here, has she?
No. They’d…
They would keep the young, unmarried women untainted by a place like this.
And, I’m sure, as something to look forward to.
I shake my head. No. Garrett Ames wouldn’t allow her in here, and her mom is actually decent. She’d protect her.
It’s still something to wrap my head around, though—family members running into each other in here.
I mean, I hear my brothers going at it with women, and I hear Liv with Clay through the walls well enough, but I don’t want to see any of it.
Even when Iron and I share, the girl is the focus.
If I’m not playing, I don’t stay in the room.
I’ll watch Rip and Tyson screw but not family. It’s weird.
Is Ames around in here when Callum does it?
I narrow my eyes, remembering Garrett Ames’s words to me before he left town. It’s time to let Callum prove himself.
I take a swig from my bottle, Callum’s words in my bed all those years ago swirling in my stomach instead of the beer. I like you…
All in the past, and Callum’s father is his own problem.
If he needs help fucking women, though, I have more I can teach him.
“Can you help me?” a woman moans.
Lifting my head, I see that I’m standing in front of a young woman with long, light brown hair and bangs curling over a red blindfold.
She stands with her hands tied above her head to an aluminum pole, wearing only a G-string.
Sweat glistens above her lip, locks of damp hair sticking to her breasts.
Looking around, I see almost everyone engaged in their own play, only one couple glancing at her.
“My husband is somewhere in here,” she pants, “and he controls the vibrator.”
I lower my eyes, noticing there’s a device in her panties, some of the fabric much darker than the rest.
“He’s not letting me come.” Her breathing shakes, her full red lips trembling. “Finger me, fuck me, suck me, I don’t care.”
My eyebrows shoot to my scalp.
“Please?” she begs.
“Why’s he not letting you come?”
She tugs her bottom lip between her teeth, flinching a little. “I let his boss eat my pussy.”
I look around, finally noticing a group in an alcove, watching us. The figure in the middle is too far away to identify, but we have his attention.
“And that’s where he drew the line?” I spit out.
“I let him do it a lot.” She gives a weak laugh. “He’s good at it.”
An image of her at her husband’s building with her skirt hiked up and her ass planted on the boss’s desk. My cock fucking twitches. “Jesus.”
Well, I don’t feel sorry for him. He’s in here, having fun, isn’t he?
He’s not a saint.
Setting down my beer, I remove my jacket and roll up my right sleeve. I raise my hand, planting it just above hers, and lean in, hooking my fingers through her panties.
She sucks in a breath, a smile dancing across her mouth, and I keep my guard up in case her man comes over. I’m guessing this is what he wants. A show.
I don’t really want to touch her. Too easy, and I’d like to browse more—relax—but Callum threw me in here alone to intimidate me.
He needs a lesson on establishing dominance.
I slide my hand between her thighs, and her plump ass straddles my arm as I reach under her and grab the pole.
“Rub your clit, baby,” I whisper over her mouth.
She moans and smiles, gripping the pole above her head as she grinds her pussy on my arm.
Her hips roll and thrust slowly at first but quickly pick up the pace, her tits bobbing as she bounces on me.
Her breathing stutters, her mouth opening and closing and groans escaping her as she teases her clit.
I cock my head, watching her. It’s been such a long time since I looked like that. Desperate for a single need, and it’s greater than food or air.
She’s like a little animal. I miss that feeling.
Warmth courses over my face and down my back as the hair on my neck rises, and I feel Callum before I see him.
Glancing over my shoulder, I gaze at him, his jacket off as he sits and watches us.
He doesn’t seem to notice the server trying to get his attention or acknowledge Jerome Watson and his friend passing behind him to a booth in an alcove.
The dark and well-dressed friend lowers his eyes to Callum as he walks by, and I squeeze the pole under her pussy so hard the bolts creak.
What Callum said in the car comes back to me.
Men can touch him in here.