Chapter 27
VI
The club is different at night.
Not surprisingly, the music is louder and the lighting is lower.
The shades on two of the “party” rooms are already open and to my delight, I can see right into both of them.
I don't look away from the people bumping and grinding, here to forget whatever their life looks like outside the club, in what’s left of Rothwell.
That's one of the things I love about this place. Nobody looks away and nobody apologizes for looking. You come here, you see things, you're seen doing things, and everyone involved has chosen it, not to mention, gets off on it. That's the point.
The first time the guys brought me here, I had no idea where we were going.
They didn't tell me and I didn't ask, which in retrospect says something about how far I'd come in trusting them.
Then we walked in and the shade on the window of the first room was open, and I saw what was happening in there and something in me went oh.
Like a switch flipping.
Like finding out something about yourself you didn't know was there.
Some things just are.
The man at the door nods and steps aside when he sees us. We go in the back way, like we always do. The music washes over us immediately, the bass booming so hard, I can feel it in my throat.
Rogue leans in close to my ear. "Window?"
"Of course," I say, stifling a giggle.
What can I say? I’m excited.
Rogue smiles and off he goes to get the room I like best. I suspect that means bribing whoever is currently in there if it’s occupied. I’ve never asked how much this stuff costs. I don't want to know. Not sure I care, either.
Great news. The room’s available. Of course. Things tend to work out when Rogue’s handling the details.
Everything stops for me for a second when we walk in. A wide velvet chaise runs the length of one wall, deep burgundy, piled with cushions and pillows in silk and fur. Opposite it, floor to ceiling, is the window. The shade is currently down.
I look at Rogue. He nods.
I push a button and the shade disappears.
The main floor opens up in front of us.
There are maybe a dozen people out there, moving between rooms, sitting at the low tables, watching the other windows that are open tonight. A few of them notice ours has opened. They don't make a production of it. They just notice.
My pulse jumps.
"There’s our girl," Rogue teases with that sexy half smile.
"Shut up," I say.
He shakes his head with a laugh.
Armen steps up behind me, his hands gripping my waist and his mouth dropping to my neck. I know the exact moment people start to notice what's happening in our room. My whole body reacts to it with a heat that starts somewhere low and spreads with the thrill of being seen.
I've tried to explain this to Mara, this thing I’m hooked on, and failed every time.
Yes, it's kind of about the strangers and it's kind of about being watched, but more than anything, I think it's about choosing to be here. Deciding to be visible. In a life where so much has been taken without my permission, there is something mind-boggling about standing in a lit window and saying yes, that I’m going to let people watch me on my terms.
Armen's hands move from my waist and I stop thinking.
He gets my shirt off while the main floor watches. Being undressed in front of people who can see everything these guys do to me leaves me breathless and feral, simple as that. I reach back to grab Armen’s thigh for balance and he makes a low sound against my neck.
"Good?" he whispers.
"You know it's good," I murmur back.
Rogue appears in front of me, close enough that I can smell him and the clean scent of his simple soap and shampoo. His fingers dig into my hair but he doesn't kiss me yet. He just holds me and makes me wait, which is annoying but also sexy as hell.
Hey, two can play that game.
"Rogue," I say.
"Mmmm?"
"Kiss me or move."
"Those are my only options?"
"Those are your only options."
So like the smart man he is, he kisses me.
While Rogue has my mouth, Armen continues removing my blue jeans and last but not least, because I didn’t bother with a bra, he slips my panties down my ankles and helps me out of them.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see him toss them over to Sting, who winks at me and brings them to his face for a long inhale.
I am aware, this whole time, of the window behind me and the people watching, and damn if it doesn’t turn my body heat up until I moan against Rogue's mouth.
He pulls back to look at me. "Yeah," he says. "I know."
Sting is at the edge of the chaise. He's been watching, his jacket off, with my panties wadded in his fist.
Armen settles me on the chaise, and for a moment, I just look out the window at the main floor, a handful of people watching openly, without apology.
I'm not apologizing either.
Sting comes to me, his hands moving over me with a focused precision I know by heart now. His mouth finds my breast and I tip my head back against Armen's shoulder.
"Spread your legs," Armen says against my ear. "Let them look."
Oh God.
He knows what that does to me, the bastard.
Sting gets to his knees in front of me and pushes my thighs wider apart. “Open,” he growls.
“What?”
“Open yourself. Open your pussy.”
Oh.
I slowly lower my hands and with two fingers inside each of my lips, I part them, showing my… well, everything.
“Good girl,” he says, looking at me with a wicked smile. “Rogue, you gettin’ a good look at this pretty pussy?”
Rogue sucks in his breath. “Oh yeah, man. All nice and pink. And look at her clit, poking out like it’s begging for action.”
Armen reaches forward from his place on the chaise and finds my wetness, dipping his fingers in and out.
“How’s it taste?” Rogue asks.
Armen brings his fingers to his mouth. “Mmmm. Nice. Very nice.”
“Here, let me,” Rogue says, sliding a finger inside me.
“Mmmm,” I moan quietly.
“Look guys. She likes it.”
Something about being talked about like I’m not even there, like I’m nothing more than a pussy and some tits, is so goddamned hot, it leaves me panting. My chest heaves up and down, even though I haven’t done a lick of exercise.
“Hey, Sting. C’mon. Put a finger in here, too.”
Rogue leans on the inside of one of my thighs while Sting leans on the other, opening my legs farther, as far as they will go, truthfully, to the point of mild pain.
But I say nothing because I have two gorgeous men driving their fingers in and out of me while I hold my pussy open for them, and life doesn’t get much better than this.
Rogue slides another finger inside and so does Sting. Eventually, I lose count of how many I’m filled with, and I breathe through it while the tingling in my core signals what’s just around the corner.
Then Armen kneels in front of me, smiling at the sight of Rogue and Sting fucking me with their fingers. He dips two fingers into his own mouth, I guess for lubrication, and places them between the hands of the other guys, driving them deep.
I shriek as my head drops back, hitting the soft pillows behind me, and I let go of my pussy lips to start rubbing my clit. I’m full, as full as I’ve ever been, with the three guys working me at different paces, giving me absolutely no break.
“Look at the window, baby,” Armen says.
The moment I open my eyes and see the people on the other side watching with approval and admiration, my orgasm hits. I arch and buck and shake for the whole club to see. The guys increase their speed and pressure like they aren’t going to let me come down.
But they do stop, and very suddenly. I open my eyes up to them flipping me to my knees, and bending me over the edge of the chaise. Again, someone behind me kicks my legs apart, and someone else parts my cheeks and places his cock against my ass.
“Dude, you need some lube?” That’s Armen’s voice.
“No,” I say in a raspy voice. “I’m wet. I’m wet enough.”
“Okay then,” Sting says. I know it’s him not only from his voice but also how hard he drives his cock in my ass.
I scream again, gripping the throw pillows my face is buried in and push back against him as if he could possibly get deeper inside me.
With an ear-shattering growl, he pumps me faster until he unloads, and I collapse in the room, leaking from both my pussy and ass.
I fucking love sex with these guys.
“You okay?” Rogue asks, watching me stare back through our window.
A couple on the other side of the glass nod and smile slightly when they catch my eye.
I take a deep breath. “I survived.”
Everything is survivable with these three in the room.
I didn't expect this. Not any of it. Not the club, not the window, not the way the guys took care of me. I came here tonight carrying my father's initials and the terror of being close to something I've wanted for years.
I'm still carrying all that shit.
But it's lighter now. That's what these guys do. They don't take the weight away. They just make it easier to hold.