Chapter Four
Robyn
I hardly dared to look up again. Not after that weird staring moment I’d just shared with the intense man across the bar. Holy smokes he was handsome, though. The temptation to look back, perhaps even have a little flirt with him, was crawling through my system, but after reminding myself that I was in a sex club I refrained. He might want far more than just a drink and a flirtatious chat, and that was something I most certainly was not planning on researching within the club. Not even with someone as stunningly good-looking as him.
Thinking of my research, I decided that if I kept my gaze away from his side of the bar I could still make this evening a productive visit.
After spending a few minutes gawking at my surroundings and dreaming wistfully of my notepad and pen sitting at home beside my laptop, I dug into my handbag and retrieved my phone so I could write some ideas in the notepad app.
I was so completely engrossed in describing the juicy details of the club that when I felt a warm breath feather over the skin near my left ear I let out a startled yelp.
‘First time visitor?’ a deep, accented voice close behind me enquired, and I’m not kidding, I think my arse actually leaped a full foot off the leather seat before I crashed back down and wobbled precariously until a firm hand gripped my arm to steady me.
Tingles were exploding on my bare arm where I was being supported, but instead of dragging it away I settled myself on my stool again and took a breath to try to calm myself. God, I was wound so tight from nerves that just a few whispered words had me practically running from the club screaming like a lunatic. To be honest, the only thing that had stopped me doing exactly that were my painful boots. It would hardly have been a speedy exit with the blisters I had.
I took several shallow breaths that did nothing to help my equilibrium, and finally turned to my left in trepidation to see who had addressed me – and who was still gripping me.
Oh good God. It was him. The man I’d dreamed about. Mr Handsome from across the bar. Except he wasn’t across the bar any more. He was right beside me, in all his suited, booted gorgeousness, well and truly invading my personal space and making all the hairs on my body fly up with awareness again.
Funnily enough, the first thing that sprung to my mind was phew, because out of all the outfits here tonight – leather catsuits, PVC shorts, bikinis made from wire – Mr Handsome did at least look normal. No corset, whip, or rubber suit in sight.
As I turned to fully face him, I realised that he was a particularly lovely example of normal as well. On closer inspection, it was also obvious that he was way more attractive than any man I could have dreamed up. He was superbly well dressed, his gorgeous navy suit was obviously high quality, and his outfit was completed with a waistcoat and a white cotton shirt that was open at the neck revealing just a touch of chest hair and tanned skin which I couldn’t help but stare at for a few seconds.
Above his collar things just got better. I’d thought he was good-looking from across the bar, but wow, now he was this near, he kinda took my breath away. He was a seriously attractive guy – well, to my tastes anyway. His hair was dark, cut short on the sides, but left to be a little spiky and unruly on top, which didn’t really match his super smart attire, but looked utterly gorgeous.
His face was really striking, too. Like a perfect incarnation of the exact type of man I was attracted to. A square jaw and dark eyes that looked black in the dim light of the bar, and older than me by a good ten years. The only minor imperfection was his slightly crooked nose, but the fact that he wasn’t quite perfect made him more accessible somehow, and just seemed to add to his overall appeal.
The feel of him uncurling his fingers from my elbow snapped me out of my ogling, and I cleared my throat in embarrassment. Recalling his earlier question, I finally found my voice. ‘Um, yeah, it’s my first time. Am I that obvious?’ I replied with a small grimace and an awkward smile as I tried to stop gawking at him like a total idiot.
‘Not particularly,’ he replied with a shrug, placing his drink down on the bar. ‘You just seemed a little jumpy and wide-eyed and I don’t recall having seen you in here before.’ From the twitch I saw at the corner of his mouth, it seemed that he was attempting to suppress a smile at my expense.
Wide-eyed? It was hardly surprising considering the things that were going on in front of my eyes, was it? Given all the erotic outfits around me, and blatant displays of almost-but-not-quite-sex on the dance floor, I was about as far from my comfort zone as I’d ever been.
Ignoring my skittering heartbeat and clammy palms, I reeled in my nerves and tried to appear unfazed and calm. ‘So, do you come here often?’ As soon as the words were out of my mouth I realised that it had sounded exactly like a cheesy chat-up line, and my already wide eyes boggled even more. Unfazed and calm? Ha, hardly! Stupid, stupid, stupid girl! A furious blush rose on my cheeks and I started to blurt out an attempt at covering my blunder.
‘I … I didn’t mean, you know … I meant …’ The stranger next to me merely continued to suppress his amusement and took a sip of his drink, remaining cool and calm whilst I sank deeper and deeper into a pit of fidgety awkwardness.
Bloody Sasha! I was going to kill her later for persuading me to come here. Seeing my continued panic, Mr Cool and Calm proceeded to roll his eyes at me and gave a strangely alluring tight-lipped smile that immediately transformed his face into something even more appealing. It made me want to see what a real, full-blown grin would look like. I bet it would be pretty phenomenal.
He must have taken my silence as continued panic because he shook his head and began to try to reassure me. ‘Breathe. Calm down, I know what you meant.’ He definitely had an exotic lilt to his voice that I couldn’t quite identify; Portuguese or Spanish, perhaps. But whatever it was, I liked it, and it merely seemed to add to his mysterious appeal. ‘And in answer to your very poorly worded question, yes, I come here quite often.’
‘Why?’ I seemed to have no control over my mouth tonight, because the word had escaped my lips before I’d even processed it. What a ridiculous thing to say. Why the hell did most guys go to sex clubs? For sex, obviously. Although why a guy as handsome as this needed to come to a club to get sex I had no idea. He must have women falling at his feet on a daily basis.
‘Actually, not for the reason you’re thinking,’ he replied with a dark smile, apparently reading my mind. ‘I’m one of the owners.’
One of the owners? ‘Oh.’ Oh. Even though he’d basically just said he didn’t come here for sex, if he was one of the owners then surely he must be into some of the … stuff… going on around us? ‘Does that mean you …?’ But my words failed me and I merely waved a hand around in the air instead. I mean, coming out with a question like, ‘Are you a sexual deviant?’ is hardly polite conversation, is it?
‘One of my friends offered me part ownership a few years back. It was a good deal, plenty of prospect for profits, so I took it.’
My eyebrows rose. He took another slow sip of his drink, and as he did so my eyes became almost fixated on his lips. They were sinfully kissable. As he lowered the glass, my gaze shifted to the column of his throat and I watched him swallow, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down behind a thin layer of dark stubble and tempting me to reach out and run a finger down it. My hand even twitched in my lap but, thankfully, my sanity prevailed and I resisted the urge.
If this place were an investment for him then maybe he didn’t make use of the club in the way I had been thinking, and maybe I could consider a little flirtation with him after all.
‘I’m not really active in the scene any more, but if I partake I do so as a dominant,’ he said smoothly, making me gulp and do a U-turn on my previous thought. Drawing in a deep breath, I tried to look unaffected by his declaration, but I was actually quite shocked. He looked so … so normal, and yet he’d just confessed that he was into the kinky stuff, and from his relaxed demeanour he was completely at ease with this fact.
From the intensity of his stare he seemed to be watching my reaction with interest, so I gave a casual shrug and nodded. ‘Right. I see,’ I said automatically. Although I didn’t really see. How could I? This was the exact reason I was here in the first place, to learn about people just like him because I knew nothing.
‘What about you?’ he enquired smoothly.
‘I’m not a dominant!’ I squawked immediately, my eyes opening even wider than before, as I swallowed far too loudly to ever be considered normal or ladylike.
‘No? Really? I would never have guessed,’ he remarked sardonically, clearly teasing me because of my high-strung state. God help me, I’d never behaved more like a prattling baboon in all of my life. ‘You’re not a dominant.’ He paused, giving me another ironic twitch of his lip which almost but not quite passed as a smile. ‘So what are you? A submissive? A voyeur? Or just a girl in the wrong bar?’
Glancing down at my phone, I saw the notes I’d been making and angled the screen towards him with a small raise of my shoulders. ‘None of the above. I’m a writer.’ I hadn’t thought my words were particularly shocking, but no sooner had he looked at my phone then Mr Cool and Calm didn’t look anywhere near as composed. His expression blackened as his entire frame tensed, his back straightening even further than before, and his eyes narrowing.
He slid from his stool and guided me down from my seat with a firm hand around my elbow. The grip instantly made me wince, not from pain, but from the searing heat that it sent coursing through my skin again. What was that reaction about?
Jerking my head up, I saw that he was momentarily staring at where we were connected, his nostrils flaring as if he perhaps felt the burning sparks, too, but then, noticing my attention, he blinked, and the shared moment was lost as his face iced up again.
‘We don’t allow journalists in here. I’m going to have to ask you to leave.’ His tone had lost all of its earlier warmth, and sounded so cold and distant that it felt like someone had run an ice cube down my spine. Goose pimples flooded my skin, but I barely had time to even shiver before he indicated towards the exit with a sharp jerk of his chin.