Sideline Sins (Beckford U #2)

Chapter 1

Ethan

Isip my scotch, but it does nothing to ease the lead weight in my stomach. Despite the silver Grecian mask obscuring more than half my face, I feel like there’s a huge neon sign above my head flashing: Beckford University’s football coach caught hanging out in a sex club.

“Relax, mate.” Andy chuckles, slapping me on the back like he isn’t the reason I’m here. “You look like you’re constipated.”

I fix my best mate with a glare and swallow another mouthful of my drink.

My thumb automatically moves to trace the ring on my left hand, only it’s no longer there, and I release a deep sigh.

I signed the divorce papers this morning, but old habits die hard, I suppose.

Nineteen years of marriage, wasted. I feel like I’m being unfaithful by even sitting in Euphoria’s main lounge, but she was the one who cheated on me with her personal trainer.

When did my life become such a cliché?

“You deserve to have a bit of fun,” Andy continues, his eyes wandering around the room. He’s like a broken record, having said an iteration of this after every training session and match this past two seasons. Sometimes I wonder if he’s my assistant coach, my best friend, or my unofficial shrink.

“I’m not sure this is my idea of fun,” I say, dragging my gaze to the three half-naked women dancing on the stage to our right, then to the three cages where people are engaged in different sex acts.

There’s a butterfly-masked woman on her knees in the closest one, choking on a cock while another masked man pounds into her from behind.

The only reason I agreed to come with Andy tonight is because of the anonymity the masks offer.

Euphoria’s monthly masked night is the perfect opportunity to see what he’s been raving about without anyone recognising me.

It sounded like the kind of distraction I need to avoid dwelling on my failed marriage.

Only, now I’m sitting here, I feel like an imposter.

A man wearing nothing but a g-string, a black studded dog-collar, and a dog mask crawls past me, led by another man, who’s naked except for the skeleton mask, his cock jutting out proudly in front of him.

I shift in my seat, wondering what the fuck I’m doing here.

“No kink-shaming,” Andy murmurs, keeping his voice low. “Anything goes here. We just need to find yours.”

“I don’t have a kink,” I mutter. “I’m as vanilla as they come.”

Which is probably why Vanessa cheated on me.

“Everyone has a kink,” he says with a smirk. “Most of us just repress it for fear of what people will think. That’s the beauty of this place. There’s something for everyone.”

I try to keep an open mind, but I’m not going to lie, the longer I sit here, the tighter my skin feels. “What’s yours?”

Andy’s been coming to Euphoria since it opened three and a half years ago, and he’s been at me to join him for the past two years, since the day I went home early to surprise my wife only to find her personal trainer servicing her in our bed.

The sound of her gagged moans and the image of her tied up like a fucking pretzel have haunted my nightmares since.

“A man doesn’t kiss and tell,” he says with a wink. “But let’s just say I like a bit of pain with my pleasure.”

Fuck me.

I run a hand through my cropped hair, fighting the urge to spring from my chair and make a run for it. What the hell have I got myself into?

His eyes lock on a woman wearing a black leather bodysuit and a red lace mask, his lips tugging into a sultry smile when his gaze lands on the whip in her hand.

Her hips sashay as she stalks over to him, running the torture device over his pecs and down to his groin.

His legs part, and she steps between them, running her tongue over her red lips as her eyes lock on the erection straining against his black slacks.

Sweat beads on my forehead, and I tug on my tie. I feel like I’m interrupting something.

“Go explore,” Andy says, never taking his eyes off the woman as his hands run over her tight arse. “See if you can find something you like… or someone.”

Not needing to be told twice, I down my drink then rush out of my chair like my arse is on fire, ignoring my friend’s laughter. But the burn of the first scotch wasn’t enough, so I head to the bar for a refill. I signal the bartender, drumming my fingers on the bar while I wait.

“You seem tense,” a soft, sultry voice comes from beside me, and my pulse spikes.

Christ, Ethan. You’re a thirty-nine-year-old man, not a fucking prepubescent teenager.

Clearing my throat, I turn to see a young woman with flaming-red hair wearing a devil’s mask. She sits in a highbacked chair at the bar, her black lips wrapped around a straw as she sips her clear drink. Vodka and lime, if I had to guess.

“That obvious?” I ask with a self-deprecating chuckle.

“A bit,” she says with a smile that crinkles her petite nose, holding up her fingers to show just how small.

“It’s my first time here,” I admit, running my finger around the rim of my glass.

“Really?” she asks, her eyes trailing unashamedly over my body. “So, what brings you here tonight?”

Heat floods through me at her brazen flirting. She’d be in her early to mid-twenties at the oldest. I’m almost old enough to be her father. My thoughts drift to my son, and I realise I am old enough to be her father.

Swallowing down those thoughts, I say, “Just came with a friend to check it out.”

She tilts her head to the side. “Friend, huh?”

Oh, god. Is her kink having two men at once?

Sensing my trepidation, she laughs and lays a manicured hand on my arm. “Relax. I’m not into threesomes. One man is more than enough. Especially if he’s mature enough to handle me.”

“Right,” I cough out, taking another sip of my drink.

“You’re adorable,” she says, like she’s twice my age instead of the other way around. “Would you like a tour guide?”

I run my tongue over my lips as I consider the offer, and she tracks the motion, her eyes flaring with something that looks like desire.

This girl is gorgeous, with flawless porcelain skin, and a black corset, which laces up the front with a silk ribbon, pushing her ample breasts up.

I allow my eyes to trail over her flat stomach, then lower, to the black boyleg panties she’s wearing.

Her legs are toned, as if she’s a runner, which turns me on even more.

My dick twitches to life as she reaches out a stiletto heel and runs it against my inner thigh.

The reason I came to the club was to move on from my cheating ex-wife and fuck something other than my fist, but this girl deserves to have a fun night with someone other than a middle-aged man who hasn’t been with a woman in over three years.

Clearing my throat, I say, “Thanks, but I think I’ll probably head off soon.”

God, I sound like a sixty-year-old man. Is this what my life has become?

Her lips form a sexy pout, and for a moment, I think about what she would look like on her knees, taking my cock in that luscious mouth. Then I catch myself and tear my gaze away.

Christ, she’s someone’s daughter.

“That’s too bad,” she purrs, finishing her drink and fishing around in her clutch before slipping off her chair.

The tempting little devil would be lucky to reach five foot five, even with her heels. At six two, I tower over her. That excites me even more.

She steps into my space, gazing at me through hooded eyes as she slips a black and gold business card into the front of my jeans. I suck in a gasp when her fingers brush over my hardening length.

“If you change your mind.” She winks and turns to leave before pausing and calling over her shoulder, “It would be a shame if you don’t explore the club a little before writing it off completely. There’s something for everyone.”

There’s something for everyone.

They’re the same four words Andy said to me.

I watch her strut away, wishing I wasn’t so fucked in the head and could just let go and have fun for one night. When she disappears down a hallway after casting a final glance in my direction, I shake my head and prepare to leave.

This is too much. It’s like throwing me overboard in the middle of a tsunami.

Fuck, the ink has barely dried on my divorce papers.

What I need is a good old fashioned dating app. Take a woman out for dinner and drinks and see where the night goes. No pressure, no expectations.

Finishing my drink, I search for Andy, but he’s no longer sitting where I left him, no doubt off exploring his pleasure and pain with his dominatrix. Sighing, I leave my empty glass on the bar and head for the exit.

As I pass one of the cages, I can’t help but notice the blindfolded and gagged woman who’s hog-tied on top of a man who’s on his hands and knees with his head bowed. I pause, watching her drool all over herself and the man below her as another man rails into her soaking cunt.

My chest constricts as the scene hits too close to home, minus the man underneath her. Is this what Vanessa wanted all along? Did she cheat on me because she thought I wouldn’t be willing to explore her sexual urges?

I swallow around the lump in my throat. Would I have been willing to tie her up and use her like this?

The honest answer is… probably not.

She’s the mother of my son, and I pride myself on the way I’ve brought him up to respect women.

When the stranger in the cage moans as she squirts all over the man’s cock, I wonder if I’m looking at this all wrong. This woman is enjoying herself, and as much as it pains me to admit it, so was Vanessa when I walked in on her.

I glance over my shoulder at the hallway the little devil disappeared down.

She may be around my son’s age, but she was definitely over the age of consent, and who am I to judge her for flirting with an older man?

Vanessa’s personal trainer didn’t have any issue sleeping with an older—married—woman.

The man in front of me grunts out his pleasure, and as I watch him blow his load all over the woman’s back and arse, I make my decision.