CHAPTER 32
Jannie
“Ready for the tour?”
“Yes.” Jannie’s voice sounded thick. She swallowed, trying to ignore the butterflies flitting around in her belly.
Taking her hand, Nick led her down an elegant corridor carpeted in plush gold and beautifully lit with phallic and yonic frosted-glass sconces. If one didn’t look closely, they could easily miss the fact that they were highly stylized interpretations of …
“Nice light fixtures,” she remarked.
“Jordan found those in Italy and had to have them. Don’t ask how long it took to get them shipped. Until they arrived, we had to improvise with basic fixtures from Home Depot.”
The paintings were also highly erotic, featuring abstract depictions of nudes that ranged from solitary figures to multiple entwined men and women.
The farther they ventured down the hallway, the dimmer the lighting became, and the harder her heart pumped.
They passed several massive doors painted in varying colors from white to green to red.
Above each, discreet light bulbs shone, either red or green, reminding Jannie of indicators she had seen in public garages.
“Private rooms,” Nick explained. “The colors represent the types of scenes that can take place in them. They’re soundproof, as are the walls. Clients enjoy complete privacy, unless they don’t want it.”
Don’t want it? What did that mean?
“Why are they different colors?”
“Different types of scenes. Different levels of activity. The white ones are for new members who are here to take it slow, to find a partner or a relationship. Nothing too intense.”
“Hookups,” she said.
“Basically.”
“And green?”
“Unattached, wants to experiment, open-minded, wants to play.”
Jannie eyed a white door with multicolored pastel polka dots. “This is pretty.”
A wicked smile. “Orgy.”
“Oh!” Jannie blinked.
“Does that bother you?”
Jannie didn’t respond. An image of what that would look like flashed across her mind, and she shuddered, dismayed to realize it wasn’t with distaste but with … what? Curiosity? Truth be told, she was getting turned on, and she was shocked by her own reaction.
What would it be like to watch something like that?
She shoved away the notion, focusing on the next door. “Camo!”
“Military fetish.”
She slanted him a glance. “Would that include pilot fetish as a subcategory?”
Nick laughed, a quiet, low rumble that went straight to her core. “It includes anything you want. You dream it, we make it happen here.”
She looked at Nick, watched him gesture with those hands, and her level of arousal began to reach a boiling point. God, but he was beautifully elegant in that bow tie. She wanted to slam him against the nearest wall, fist his shirt, and shove her tongue deep into his mouth.
“Why are so many of them empty?”
“Oh, they’ll fill up.” Nick smirked. “After the show.”
Ah, yes, the show. Thankfully, he hadn’t asked her to attend one tonight.
One door was gray.
She surreptitiously eyed Nick’s matching pocket square.
Bondage.
This was likely where he’d spent his time when he was here.
Literally came here.
“And now we come to the last door.”
Nick watched her closely; Jannie sensed his gaze but avoided looking at him, knowing he would guess her thoughts.
“Any interest in going into one of these rooms?” he asked. “Except the occupied one, of course.”
Indeed, one room, the one with the purple door, had the red bulb glowing above it. Curiosity got the best of her. “What’s purple?”
“Spanking.” He said it nonchalantly as if he were mentioning an item from a restaurant menu.
He also appeared uninterested.
“Not into that?” she asked.
“Not my thing.”
What was his thing?
Jannie followed Nick’s gaze to the gray door on the right, and Jannie nearly wobbled on her heels, so intense was the hot current flowing from him.
His eyes held a silent question. The image of him behind that door with another woman, or maybe more than one, made her stomach turn and sent something sharp lancing through her chest. She wanted to be that woman.
Because she wanted to erase everything he’d ever done with other people.
Gathering her courage, Jannie reached out and took his hand, then moved to stand in front of the door. His eyes flashed, and he uttered a single word.
“Positive?”
“Yes,” was her quiet, monosyllabic answer.
The right answer, she realized, because he smiled, and her level of erotic anticipation dialed up to maximum the instant the one word of consent left her mouth.
Nick’s fingers tightened around hers. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a black key card embossed with a gold emblem, and touched it to the electronic pad.
Jannie heard a beep, and with a click, the gray door cracked open.
Nick
The room looked empty, of course.
As it always did at the beginning of a scene. Nick led Jannie inside, squeezing her fingers as the heavy door slammed shut with a satisfying thud.
He took in the faint scent of the unique fragrance he’d spent months developing and perfecting. It was the ideal blend of ambrette and leather notes, with just a hint of ylang-ylang, a scent so intoxicating that Indonesians sprayed it all over the bed of newlyweds on their wedding night.
Jannie’s gaze circled the deceptively barren cream walls, her eyes widening in disbelief. “Where are the purple walls? The red lamps? The walls of handcuffs and whips and … whatever else they’re called?”
Nick chuckled. Jannie was in his lair, a place he never would have imagined seeing her, even in his wildest dreams.
“No purple walls. No whips.” He reached out to trace a fingertip along her flushed cheek, mainly because he didn’t trust himself to do anything else.
The beast within him was contained for now.
She was a novice; he needed to take things slowly.
Introduce her gently. With the proper guidance, she could discover what a profound connection this could be.
“There’s nothing in here,” she said.
“Oh, but there is.” He stepped close. “There’s you—” he reached up to tug on one end of his bow tie “—and me.”
Her beautiful eyes widened, darting from his face to his hand and back again as she watched him untie it.
The black silk dangled around his neck. A small ligature, yes, just eighteen inches long, yet he could do so many things with it, and the ideas swirling in his mind made his blood rush downward so fast, it made his head spin.
Perhaps it was the way she looked at him now, her eyes glinting with trepidation, but not the kind that would make him stop.
No, it was the kind that urged him on. In all his years of doing this, he’d learned to pick up on and read cues, and what he was receiving from her right now was exhilarating.
She smirked. “So, is this it? We’re just going to stand here in an empty room and play with your bow tie?”
Had he not been so insanely aroused, he would have laughed. Instead, he hauled her against him, his fingers splaying across her bared lower back.
“Yes.” He pressed—hard—into her. “We are.”
She gasped.
He’d never handled her so roughly, but this was his domain. And she needed to find out exactly what he was about.
She closed her eyes.
“Look at me,” he said.
When she looked up at him, her expression was so very heated that he thought he’d burst into flames.
“No one can hear us.” He pressed her harder into him. “No one can see us. Let go of the person you force yourself to be outside of these walls. Show me the real you, Jannie.”
She started to turn her head.
He gripped her chin, just firmly enough to prevent that from happening. “Don’t look away again. Unless I say you can.”
Was that a flash of defiance that flared in those blue eyes?
“I’ve been wondering…” he began in a low voice. Easing his grip, he stroked her cheek with his thumb, feeling a surge of satisfaction as he felt the tension start to leave her body.
“What have you been wondering?” Her nostrils flared, and he knew she was getting her fill of the scent in the room, which he was well aware mixed with his own to make a potent combination.
“That night you came to my bed …”
She swallowed hard. “Uh-huh.”
“And found me lying there naked and bricked up …”
“Yeah?”
He could hear her panting now, feel the puffs of heat on his chin as she looked up at him. “What were you thinking?”
“I wasn’t thinking.”
“No?”
“I was feeling.”
“What were you feeling?”
“Urges.”
“Urges.” He waited a beat, but she didn’t elaborate. “You say that as if they’re a bad thing.”
“They are.”
He shook his head. “Not in my world. Not to me.” He bent to brush his lips along her forehead, pressing a soft kiss to her temple. “Nothing is shameful, Jannie. Nothing is wrong or dirty if the people involved are consenting adults.”
She leaned into him then, as if her knees were about to buckle.
“There’s so much guilt and shame associated with sexuality.
Repression, hiding, being unable to let go …
” He stroked her flushed cheek. “When there’s a way and a place just to be, people can find a deeper, more meaningful connection.
The BDSM world is as varied as the participants themselves.
The beauty of it is that you can make it whatever you want it to be, however you want it to be.
“Sometimes, yes, it’s a whip, for those who enjoy that type of play.” He took a step forward, compelling her to step back. “Sometimes, it’s dressing up and acting out a fantasy. Sometimes it’s being onstage and cutting—” another step “—or being cut, as you witnessed that night.”
One last step, and Jannie exhaled sharply as her back bumped the wall.
Nick leaned in, placing his hands on either side of her head, trapping her between his body and the hard plaster, knowing that if she sought any softness, she’d have to push into him.
She did, and he relished her soft moan as she came into full contact with his evident desire.
He looked down at her with what he hoped was reassurance. “And sometimes, all it takes is an empty room and one bow tie.”