I STARE DOWN THROUGH THE two-way mirror of my office at the packed dance floor. The strobe lights bounce off the crowd as bodies grind into one another, allowing the music and libations to take control. Half of these people don’t even need a private room. Sex blares within the beats, drawing out their inhibitions and enticing them to lose control.
The club is at capacity. It always is. Members, for as long as I’ve run the place, and even before, when my father held the reins, filter in and out, their true identity safe and locked up in my office.
My eyes locate a group of college girls who make it into the main corridor, just on the outskirts of the bar. My fists clench, whiteness appearing on the once peach knuckled flesh. This is the third time this month Fredrick has failed to monitor the entrance. I would make it a point to fire him, showing all staff my rules are exactly that, but he’s been employed at Exquisite since my father ran the place. He would turn over in his grave if I let him go.
I hear a soft click as the door to my office opens. “Damien, I wanted to let—”
“I see them. How’d they get in here?” I don’t turn to address him. I’m sure he can see the displeasure on my face from the glare on the glass.
“I was on break. James was covering for me. He must’ve let them in.”
I’m not one for excuses. I don’t care to hear them, nor do I accept them. I’m a man who believes you should embrace your faults. It’s the only way to learn from your mistakes, misjudgments. How do you learn if you don’t acknowledge them?
“I want James gone within the hour. I want these little brats out of my club even faster.”
“Sure thing, Damien.”
I allow him to exit just as he entered, not taking my eyes off the dance floor. I take interest in the group of girls, anticipating the moment when Fredrick reaches them, traps each one by the neck, and tosses them out of my club. It’s less painful than what I would do if I got my hands on them. The anger is back at the intrusion of people who think they can just enter my establishment with the curiosity of a dirty alley cat, wanting to know if the rumors are true. Well, if they found the place, they should have the answer they’re looking for.
Exquisite is a private club for private members. If you’re here and do not own a membership, it’s because you were invited by someone who does. No one just walks in. You are specially chosen to access my club, drink my booze, and dance on my floor. If you aren’t invited, you aren’t let in. Do I see people within the crowd I don’t recognize? People who have successfully found themselves inside my club? Of course. And those are the ones I like to watch the most. They’re so eager to find a place inside my playground, they’ll do anything. And when I find someone eager to be molded, I make it my mission to ruin them—and not in a bad way. If you’re here in the first place, that’s your number one goal.
You don’t come here to dance and have a few drinks. You come here to get lost in the vibe I offer—get punch-drunk on the lust-filled air. Exquisite is like a drug. People here beg to let go. Beg to become someone else. The teacher wanting to become someone’s pet. The judge wanting to be tied and choked for being bad. The housewife who wants to pretend she doesn’t have a family sleeping at home while she gets filled and fucked in every way possible until her body gives out. Those are the people who come to my club. Those are the people I allow in.
These girls? Kids, practically. They want to brag that they’ve stepped into the unforbidden. I’m always tempted to take one of those little Barbie doll brats behind closed doors, away from the innocent petting and dance music, and show them what nightmares are made of. Maybe then they’ll spread the word that this isn’t a place for them and stay away. For their whole goddamn group to stay away.
I watch as Fredrick finally makes it to them. Grabbing the closest girl, he brings his mouth to her ear. Her once flushed face begins to fade in color, and the others’ eyes go wild as they lift their hands in defeat, pleas spilling from their bubblegum-colored lips. Fredrick points to the door and begins to escort them out when the girl in the back breaks away from her group and heads in the opposite direction.
My anger spikes at her defiance.
Fredrick is too busy escorting our unwanted guests to notice. My twitching hand aches to reach down and grab her by the neck. Force her to stare into my gaze as I apply pressure around her throat and pull her hair into my fist. Feel her pulse race beneath my fingertips as she gasps in fear and exhilaration. I want her out of my club.
My eyes follow her through the crowd as she makes her way to the bar. She’s wearing a green dress that doesn’t flatter her too-thin frame. Her heels add a few inches to her average height of five-and-a-half-feet tall, but she lacks the curves many members in the club seek. Unimpressed by her backside, I conclude she’ll be even less impressive from the front. I’m not sure if I’m disappointed or relieved. At least it will be easy to scare her enough to never show her face in my club without having the urge to touch her beforehand.
Leaning over the polished wood, she catches Kade’s attention. He holds up one finger to finish pouring two stouts for Commissioner Stephens and makes his way to her. I can’t read her lips since her back is to me, but her tense body language sends off a vibe that she’s nothing more than an innocent kitten lost in a lion’s den. And she is about to request something way out of her league.
I take a step closer to the glass, pull out my phone and dial the front bar extension. The phone lights up with an incoming call, but I doubt he can even hear it over the sounds of the music. Kade leans in and the girl cups his ear. A few seconds pass, and my curiosity spikes. What does this little girl want? Kade’s easy going expression drops, and his eyes shoot from her to the mirrored window above the dance floor. She’s mentioned something to do with me.
He quickly pulls his attention back on her. He nods, turning to the ringing phone, and picks up the receiver. Before he has a chance to address me, I speak.
“Send her up to my office.”
His eyes shoot to the window once again. “But she just—”
“I have a line of capable bartenders dying to be in your place.”
That does it. His mouth, open and ready to continue, shuts. No way does someone land a job here and leave unless they’re fired or dragged out. “Got it, boss.”
We disconnect, and he turns to the girl. A few short words are exchanged. I envision he’s telling her how to get to the back stairwell. There, he’ll notify Arthur to let her up the private elevator leading to my office. And there, I will get another call to confirm. Another employee I’ll threaten if they question my orders.
I eagerly await her next move, so I can get a good look at her face. I have no interest in her or fulfilling any of my much-needed desires, but it doesn’t stop my curiosity or my dick from anticipating. Kade nods, and with one last glance at my office, he twists back to the man at the bar. That’s when she turns. Her skin is pale in comparison to the done-up faces of her friends. Her lips are bare, her eyes covered in minimal makeup. I’m surprised by her simple appearance, but thankful her plain look does nothing for me.
A few moments pass before the sound of heavy knocking on the door alerts me she’s here. My voice responds for them to enter.
“Seriously, you can get your paws off me. I don’t need to be manhandled, you big oaf.” I turn to Arthur, his eyebrows dipping in annoyance as he escorts the girl into my office.
“Listen here, you little—”
“That will be all, Arthur.”
“Damien, she’s under—”
“Shut the door behind you,” I say, my tone stern. With one last glance, he nods, drops the girl’s forearm, and exits the office, shutting the door behind him.
“Jesus, what sort of goons do you have working for you?” she snaps, rubbing her shoulder.
“Ones that keep unwanted guests from entering my club. What can I do for you, miss…” I pause, waiting for her to address herself.
“Jensen.”
“Ms. Jensen.”
“No, Jensen’s my first name.”
I raise a brow with confusion. “Your parents named you Jensen?”
“Ones who wanted a boy. Your parents named you after the son of Satan?”
“Ones who expected very powerful things from their child.”
She takes a long look at me, her plump lips pursed. Imagining those pouty lips painted a deep shade of red and wrapped around my cock, I hide my sudden, and unexpected, arousal. She’s a natural beauty, and her perfect teeth tell me she had a good upbringing—parents who made sure their daughter brushed her teeth and said her prayers each night.
She pulls at the front of her dress, bringing my eyes to her chest. The dress really does nothing for her. Women who dress in those type of clothes know how to wear them, but she looks out of place in the tight material. My curiosity builds, but I turn away and take a seat at my desk. She doesn’t move at first, then follows suit and sits across from me.
“I can have you arrested for trespassing. This is a twenty-one-and-over club.” I keep my expression blank.
“And what would you tell them? That your doorman took a fake ID and allowed an underage girl in? That doesn’t seem smart.”
Her feisty mouth has my hand twitching. No one dares to talk to me the way she just did, let alone challenge me. Her eyes shine with determination, but I’m the one who will come out ahead of this. “I can assure you the Chicago Police Department will turn a blind eye to my staff’s mishap. I’m not sure I can say the same for you when they arrest you.” Threading my fingers together, I rest my arms on my chair and wait for her next move. She has yet to explain why she’s here in the first place, or why she requested to speak to me.
“Look, I’m not here to cause anyone trouble. I just need something from you and I’ll be on my way.”
I start to lose the smile that’s forming on my face. Nothing from me is that simple. I don’t hand out favors. I certainly don’t offer anyone my charity. If you want something, it comes with a price. I continue to stare her down, keeping my eyes locked with hers and not on her overexposed breasts. “I’m not sure I can help you with that, Ms. Jensen. You see, nothing I have to offer comes for free.”
I love it when a woman squirms. When their skin changes color at the mere thought of what they would possibly have to endure in exchange for what they want. The sudden realization they may have made the wrong decision by propositioning me. Once in my den, it’s too late to back down. Jensen becomes uncomfortable in my leather chair. She clutches the hem of her too-short dress, which does nothing to hide the cream panties I noticed the second she sat down and tried to pull it down her thighs.
“Listen, son of Satan, I’m not here for any of that sort of business. I just need…I just…I need a contract and I’ll be on my way.”
I’m not sure whether to be mad or amused by her nickname. What does get my attention is her request for a contract. My smile finally breaks through and I lean forward, placing my hands on my mahogany desk. “You want a contract,” I reply, more as a statement than a question.
“Yep. It doesn’t have to be filled out or anything, just the paperwork will do.”
“And assuming I have this contract you speak of, you need what with it?”
She crosses her legs, then quickly realizes her mistake and uncrosses. But the damage is already done. Her panties were exposed to me once again, along with her porcelain thighs leading up to them.
“Listen, I’m not interested in what goes on here. Nor am I going to tell. I just need…I have to…I accepted this dare if you will…” She pauses, leaving me to wonder where she’s going with this. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve come across a curious girl wanting to know what goes on in a sex club, and she won’t be the last. I stay silent, her level of comfort decreasing with each passing moment. She wants to appear tough and unfazed, but there’s no hiding the beating pulse in her neck, the flush of her cheeks, and the small tremble of her fingers as they tap on the armrest. “I accepted a challenge from this devil chick, you may know her, being from the same town, Hell and all, and to save my best friend from four years of hating me for getting in the way of her sisterhood dreams, I need to get my hands on your contract.”
I continue to hold my tongue, enjoying how uneasy she’s become.
She shuffles once again in her chair, trying to adjust her dress but failing. “Can you please stop looking at me like that? It’s making me uncomfortable.”
“What way am I looking at you?” I ask, knowing exactly how I’m looking at her. I’m devouring her with my eyes. Why I feel the need to tempt myself with her, I’m not sure. She’s nothing close to the type of women I crave. She’s too young, plain as can be, right down to her pristine cream panties, and I don’t have to ask to know she’s inexperienced. Her innocence is not something I want to get involved with. Even if the thought of molding her into the perfect pet causes my pants to tent. Fuck, what I could teach those lips to do. Those hands. Her taut little body.
“You…you’re just… Ugh, like that! Can I just get that contract?”
“No.” I’m up and out of my chair, startling her with my abrupt movement. Enough of the games. This is getting ridiculous. To the point where I’m beginning to visualize her bent over my desk while I mark her bare skin with my eager palm.
“What do you mean, no? Like, no, I can’t have it? Or no, you won’t stop looking at me?” She jumps to her feet, following me as I head to the door. I open it and step aside.
“I think we’re done here. Run along, back to your babysitter’s club. I have a business to run.”
Her gasp doesn’t go unnoticed and her eyes immediately change, filling with anger. Her face, once nervous, transforms back to the same confidence she had when she first arrived. “I’m not leaving until I get that contract. Just give it to me.”
“No.”
“And why not? What’s the big deal? Just pretend I applied for it, so you have to give it to me.”
“And are you applying for it?”
Her eyes widen. “No, of course not! Do I look like I’m interested in all that sick petting shit?”
My hand is off the door handle and up around the back of her neck. My fingers are still gentle, but the urge to squeeze until she begs and submits is vehement. “What makes you think you’re not?” I lean forward, invading her personal space. “Have you ever been properly petted?” I fight not to laugh at the sudden uneasiness in her eyes.
I caress the bare flesh of her neck with my thumb, my voice dropping an octave. “Tell me, what would you do if I pushed you against this door, pressed my lips here…” I press into the spot just below her ear. “And stroke my tongue exactly where your pulse is beating erratically?”
I take a slow step toward her, closing the gap between us, and she retreats one step back. “You know what that means?” I press harder over her vein. “The way your heart rate has picked up? The way all five senses yell danger, yet your endorphins are letting off a hormonal sensor that screams curiosity even louder. You’re not one of those girls, but the fact that you haven’t bothered to fight me off yet tells me you may want to be.”
Her lips part and I get the sudden desire to shove my tongue inside her mouth. I take another step forward and get the pleasure of her body pressed against mine. I smile at her loss of confidence as she gasps, realizing her mistake. She shuffles back, and I follow step for step until her back hits the door and I have her cornered. My head dips and goose bumps rise over her skin beneath my fingertips as my warm breath coasts along her flesh.
“I’ve had my hand around your neck for over a minute and a half now,” I whisper against her earlobe. “You haven’t even screamed for help, nor tried to fight me off. Haven’t even shown a bit of defiance for someone who isn’t into ‘sick petting shit.’” I end with my mouth a hairsbreadth from her neck, her pulse so erratic, I almost feel the vibrations on my lips. Her breath quickens. If I wanted to take this farther, she’d let me. No questions asked.
But she’s far from what I need.
Jensen tilts her head slightly to the side, allowing me better access to her neck, and I release her. She stumbles back and falls limp against the door at my brute action, but I don’t bother to help steady her. “As I said, no.” I take a step to the side. “Goodnight, Ms. Jensen.” I reach for the door, enjoying the fire that ignites in her emerald green eyes.
“You…asshole.”
My grip tightens around the handle as my dick rages with need. Twice, she’s had the nerve to speak to me with such a tongue. Her mouth pisses me off, but the thought of punishing her for it turns me red hot.
I need her gone.
I throw the door open, and she jumps. “That I may be, pet, but I’m an asshole who has no room for the plain likes of you. Just as you said, your unlikeliness to survive one night in this club is the reason why applying would be nonsense. Go home, back to your pampered life. Return to whoever allowed you to borrow their dress, which looks horrendous on you, and forget about your silly dare. You’ve wasted enough of my time. Out.”
My words are harsh, but they do the job. I’ve driven her mute. If she’s smart, she’ll stay that way and leave my office. At least read the cold look on my face. No one, even a child like herself, insults me in my own club.
“You can try to offend me all you want, I don’t give a shit. Trust me, you aren’t anything to call home about either.”
I laugh. “I’m deeply wounded, but I haven’t gotten to where I am by being nothing to call home about.”
“Well, you disgust me.” She crosses her arms over her chest, making her breasts more appealing.
“Noted. Out you go.” I place my hand on her back to help her out, but it gets shoved off.
“Do not touch me.”
Strike three. My hand twitches, fighting off the need to grace her ass with a good smack. Teach her a lesson for being so disobedient. “You’re really testing my patience,” I grit out between clenched teeth. “I suggest you leave before I have you escorted out by your hair.”
Her mouth drops instantly. It wasn’t my intention to speak that harshly, but my temper is at its breaking point. If I don’t get her out of my sight, I can’t be responsible for what I might do.
“You know what? With pleasure.” She turns and steps outside my office, spinning back. “Have fun burning in hell, son of Satan.”
“I most certainly will, Ms. Jensen.”
And then my vision of her is cut off by the door slamming in her face. My heart rate picks up, my hands at a small jitter. Lifting my palms, I wipe the stress from my face and walk back to the mirrored window. After a few moments, I see her storm through the crowd, then turn and lift her middle finger to the window. I laugh at her courageousness—which is so unlike me. No one has attempted to speak to me like that in a very long time.
Not three minutes later, a knock sounds as the door opens. “Damien, the girl’s being put in a cab.”
“Good.” I turn away from the window and head toward my desk. “I want to know the location of where she’s dropped off. Then I want to know everything about her.”
“Damien—” Fredrick hesitates, trying to argue, but I cut him off.
“Everything.”