VOLUME 2
I follow him into the backseat of the car and slide across the bench. He slips in behind me and slams the door. My heart races harder, faster, as my breathing becomes too ragged. It’s hard to feign confidence when Sean can see what he does to me.
When I glance up at him, wondering what he wants to say, I force my spine straight and relax the muscles in my face. Sean hasn’t glanced away from me since he slammed into me coming out of Club Noir. The way his brows rest slightly lifted on his beautiful face makes me want to reach out and touch him. But I don’t. I remain still with my hands folded neatly in my lap.
I glance past Sean and see the driver standing outside the car as if waiting for something. Before I know what’s happening, Sean’s warm hand is on my chin, redirecting my face so that my gaze meets his. My chest fills with too many emotions at once. The attraction is intense and being this close is like holding two magnets together, but not allowing them to touch. The pull becomes more pronounced, and all those feelings continue to rise. I want to lean into his hand and press my lips to his.
While my control flies away into the night, Sean’s remains completely intact. He tips my face one way and then the other as if he were examining livestock.
I jerk away and frown. “I’m not a horse.”
“No one said you were.”
“What do you want, Mr. Ferro? I have places to be and this—as lovely as it is—wasn’t among my plans for the evening.” My tone is curt, irritated. It’s the only way I can hide the firestorm of emotions burning through me.
“Really? Weren't you coming to take part in Club Noir? Find a partner? Fuck your troubles away?”
I reach for the door, intending on leaving without responding. Sean moves quickly, taking me by my shoulders and twisting me back toward him. He doesn’t wait for me to say anything. Before I know what’s happening, he’s in my space, within a breath of me. He stays there, watching my lips, letting the pull between us build.
My insides twist and, I can’t help it, a small gasp escapes from between my lips. It’s as if that was what he wanted, because he closes the distance between us and presses his mouth to mine. His lips are soft and perfect as he lingers in a chaste kiss, barely touching me. The result is intense. Desire shoots through my body like a bolt of lightning, making me want to do everything all at once.
I’m losing control. That’s worrisome and exciting. It’s like standing on the top of a lightning rod and waving a metal rake around during a storm. It’s not a matter of if I’ll get struck—it’s inevitable.
When Sean is involved, every ounce of control I possess vanishes. I see it now, and it scares me. Something is very wrong with this situation, and it’s not just that I’m part of the team trying to throw his ass in jail—we’re enemies. He should hate me, but this kiss says something else entirely. A jolt of reality pours down my spine like ice.
Breathless, I wriggle away and stare at him with an intensity I normally hide. Two worlds are colliding in my mind. Reality and Club Noir. Normally, they exist separately. They don’t converge. Hell, they don’t even touch. I find it difficult to believe that this meeting is an accident, that Sean Ferro is only searching for solace at Club Noir.
I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, still mere inches away from him. “You know as well as I do this isn’t possible.”
Sean's expression is placid, all smoothness, as if the kiss left him unbothered, unaffected. “Go on. Say what’s on your mind.” Those eyes reveal too much. As I look into them, I fall deeper and deeper. I sense his excitement and the worry that barely pinches his brow. I can taste the disappointment building in the back of his mouth. I can feel the way his walls become thicker by the second, as if building an impenetrable keep inside a fortress to conceal his heart forever.
But right now, there are cracks in the façade revealing his thoughts, allowing all this emotion to flow out like shafts of light piercing the darkness.
My jaw hangs open, frozen. The moment is too intense, and panic is clawing at my insides, wanting to rise and take over. I shove it down and swallow hard. “If my boss finds out I was in your car, I'll be fired. But this—if he saw this—if he knew you were here, and I was here…”
Sean looks me over and calmly explains, “Mr. Cunning—that’s a laughable name by the way—doesn’t appear to be the sort to frequent Club Noir, and, if he were, he’d already have known about your darker pursuits. What would possibly make him venture here, now?”
My heart is slapping against my ribs, making it hard to breathe. My palms are sweaty, and the remnants of my composure wash away. “I don’t know! Why are you here now? Why is anyone here now?”
He doesn’t answer.
I wring my hands in my lap and glance out the window. My panic is real now, not imagined. I need Club Noir, but not when it means Sean Ferro comes with it.
Lips trembling, I mutter, “I lost my thoughtful spot.”
Sean nearly chokes as he tries to swallow a laugh. “I’m sorry, you’re thoughtful—”
I wave my index finger in his face and cut him off. “Stop coming here!”
“I could ask the same of you.” Those calm blue eyes are hypnotic. They’re like the ocean, vibrant, ever-changing, and with depths beyond comprehension. “But I won’t.”
My eyes cut to Sean and then back to the Club. I make a strangled sound in the back of my throat. “I knew exactly what I was going to do tonight until you hit me with the door.”
“Then do it, find someone who shares your preferences.” His eyes bore into me as the silence builds between us. He’s still so close, his scent filling my head, making me crazy.
“Don’t follow me.” I reach for the car door again, and this time Sean doesn’t stop me.
I push the door shut and walk around to the curb, hellbent on finding a partner in Club Noir.
EVERY INCH of my skin hums, demanding to be touched, while my mind blurs with memories I’d rather forget.
I march through the glass doors, past the black bar, and down the golden hallway. I pass the women and men proceeding with caution and lacking my determination. Is that what this is? It’s almost like I have to prove to myself that I can still do this. Where did that come from?
I make it to the elevator bank and pull out my collar for the guard. He’s an older guy with a big nose and gruff voice. “Put it on if you want to go up. You know the rules.” He’s wearing a black suit with a name tag that says GABE.
I lift my hair and tighten the collar around my neck. “I know.”
He pushes the button and calls the elevator. As he stands there, a timid couple walks up behind me. The woman has a white collar on with no stones. The man is giddy and a bit younger than her. She smiles at me nervously. I wonder which of them wanted to come here.
When the elevator arrives and the door chimes, I walk through. Gabe swipes a key card allowing me to select any floor. When the couple tries to enter, Gabe stops them. “Sorry, novices aren’t allowed upstairs without an upper-level.”
The woman smiles nervously and watches me. My finger is hovering over a button, but I’ve not pressed it yet. She sees my black collar, as does the guy she’s with. I act on a whim, reaching out for her hand and pulling her forward. “She’s with me.”
Gabe nods and steps back. “She’s your responsibility for the evening.”
“I know.” I press the button, and before her man can follow us into the elevator, Gabe blocks him.
“Sorry, but you know the rules. You need a guarantor.”
“But, we’re together.” The man points at the woman in the white collar, very excited and very annoyed that he’s going to miss out.
Gabe shakes his head and scolds the man as the elevator doors close. I quickly press every button for every floor and then lean back against the railing. “I’m going to nine, but you don’t have to. You should probably observe on two and see if this is your thing.”
Her eyes nearly bug out of her head. “You’re going to nine?”
I nod. “Yes, and you should get off here.” The doors open and the pale blue lights spill into the room. She doesn’t move. The doors slide shut, and we continue up another floor.
I shake my head, allowing my hair to fall into my eyes. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“Why did you say that?” She laughs nervously and tucks a strand of red hair behind her pale ear.
“It’s not your thing. You’re afraid.”
“So. Aren’t you?” She’s visibly trembling by this point.
I feel bad for her. “No, I’m not. I’m here because I want to be. I think you’re here because that guy wanted it. This isn’t for everyone. What’s your name, anyway?”
“Claire.” She looks at the floor and seems sad. “We’ve been together for a long time, and I don’t want to lose him. If I have to start doing this, well, how do I do it?”
I groan inwardly. That is the worst possible reason to show up here. “As a voyeur. Then try some of the mini public shows. If that doesn’t make you leave, try the third floor. But not before watching.”
“Can I watch you?” Her face turns bright red when she asks me. I want to smash my head into the wall for pulling her up here with me. “Please?”
I glance over at her again and consider it. She won’t be in the way and maybe if she sees what I’m into she’ll think twice about doing something like this for someone else. “Fine, but don’t ask me anything until later.”
Claire smiles and nods. “I can do that. So, where are we going?”
“Apparently to the fourth-floor lounge. I need to find a partner and sign you in.”
I feel skittish tonight. That meeting with Ferro has my head spinning. I can’t concentrate on the newbie--or anything else for that matter. The doors slide open, and I head over to the desk in the golden room and check in.
Behind the counter is a tall, extremely thin man with a shaved head. His lanky body is covered in tattoos and piercings. “It’ll be about an hour before we can get you on stage. There aren’t too many niners here tonight. What kind of partner do you want?”
Claire whispers to me, “What’s a niner?”
The man laughs and shakes his head. “How’d you get stuck with her?”
“A niner is a black collar, someone who’s done all this before,” I tell her before responding to the guy. “Don’t be a prick. Everyone starts somewhere.”
“And you’re Mother Teresa helping her out like this. Club Noir thanks you for making a new patron.” His tone is somewhere between sarcastic and serious. “So, for you, oh, I see a good one—unless you already have a partner in mind?”
“Just assign someone.”
He types quickly into the computer and then says, “Done.” We’re both given a keycard and allowed to roam the floor in public and private areas.
I walk straight back with the newbie on my heels, slowing as we approach a seating area around a stage. Two women are up there right now. One has a cane in her hand. She’s wearing a dark leather bodysuit. The other woman is laying on the couch, face down, watching the audience, wearing only a leather harness. Her pale cheeks flush red, and several raised welts mark her thighs. They’re almost done.
I sit at a small table toward the back, one reserved for black collars and their tops. Claire tries to sit next to me. “No, over there. You have to stand and watch.”
She nods and backs away, standing by the wall. She winces when the cane comes down. Her eyes widen, shocked, as the sound of it striking flesh makes other viewers lean in. I remember doing this. I liked being on the receiving end, but not the cane—I preferred the cat. The way the tails feel stinging nine different places at once makes it impossible to think about anything else.
That’s what this place is for—to forget. The people who have lived the darkest lives turn up here, ready to banish their pain, hoping it never returns. But it comes back, which is why I have every level, every stone. The pain never stops because life never lets it.
As I watch the last delicious strike of the rod, I notice tears streaming silently down the bottom’s cheeks. She may enjoy the idea of being a bottom—a submissive—but Club Noir isn’t her thing. It stuns me how many people wander in here, how many people will go this far for someone else when they can’t bear it.
I’m a different story. I want something to feel, something that makes sense to me. I understand this. It’s action and reaction. It also forces the bottom—the person in the slave role—to learn how to conceal their emotions. The master is called the ‘top’ here. The patrons flip roles between ‘tops and bottoms,’ doing whichever they please, and it sounds a little less scary than, ‘dominant and submissive.’ The actions are far from cute, though. Being a bottom isn’t for everyone, but it helped me hide the horrors that were so evident on my face all those years ago.
I order a cocktail and lean back in my chair. After it’s gone, I shuck my leather coat, revealing my collar, leather bralette and mini skirt, and shiny black thigh high boots. It’s warm in here.
The music pulses and the golden lights flash. The stage curtain drops.
Claire rushes up behind me, whispering, “When it's your turn, are you taking me with you? I don’t think I can do that.” She's visibly shuddering and turning a shade of green. I feel sorry for her.
“You should go home,” I say firmly.
“I can’t.”
“I won't do anything with you or to you. I only signed me up. You just stand by the wall all night. When you can’t stand anymore, leave.” I speak sternly, not looking her in the eye until the end.
Claire nods and resumes her position at the wall behind me. We watch another couple and then a trio. The hour passes quickly. I head to the back room to get ready and meet my partner. We need to go over any rules or safe words ahead of time. Most people have a firm line they won’t cross. If we don’t talk about it before time, there’s no way to know when to stop.
As I head to the backstage area, I see a couple doing more than they should. I look away, rushing past them. Sex in public spaces is a no-no. Sex, in general, is a no-no here. The owner will kill them when she finds out. And she will find out.
I walk into the women’s changing room. It’s decorated with soft silvers and shades of gray with lots of mirrors and warm light. There are white locking cubbies to store my things. One wall has costumes hanging on a long silver rod running the entire length of the wall. There are sheer dresses, revealing lingerie, harnesses, and more. Anything you could possibly want to put on the perfect show. And the price tags that dangle from each indicate they cost more than my weekly check.
I can take anything I want--Level Nine perk--but decide to remain in the clothes I’m wearing. I sit down in front of a mirror and braid my hair so that it’s not falling in my face. As I do so, I hear the other women in the room talking.
A brunette with ample cleavage dusts blush across her cheek and then says, “I didn’t see him either, but Angie said he’s here.” Her accent is thick, like the water in Jersey.
There’s another woman next to her, spraying enough hairspray to form a lingering cloud. Her accent is dually thick. “Lots of guys are here, but not too many leave the main floor.”
“I’m not new! He’s in the waiting room. Can you imagine? Sean Ferro on stage!” She’s giddy.
I drop my hairbrush and jump up quickly.
He is not.
He did not.
I’m going to…
I WANT TO SCREAM. I rush out of the changing room and race down the hallway to the waiting area. Sean’s standing there, shirtless, with dark slacks and a belt around his narrow waist. In the golden light, the muscles of his back are defined perfectly under smooth pale skin.
I walk up behind Sean and shove him hard. “What the hell?”
Sean turns around and looks at me. “No touching, Miss Driskill. We’re following my rules tonight.”
“The hell we are!”
Sean watches me, his face devoid of emotion as he calmly steps closer. I step back. “You know how this goes. Unless you want to lose face in front of your peers, you’ll do as I tell you.”
“You asked for me? What’d you do, follow me inside?” I go to shove him again, but he grabs my wrists. When I try to jerk away, he leans in close, tugging me until we are nose-to-nose.
“I left. When I returned, I signed in downstairs--where I remained until a few moments ago. They didn’t tell me which bottom I was with, so stop acting like you matter. You don’t.” He tosses my hands back and steps away.
I stand there, stunned, jaw hanging open for half a beat before I snap it shut again. “I’m not doing this with you.”
“Then pay the penalty and move on.” There’s no trace of anger in his voice. It’s simply gone.
Sean pads away from me, and I notice he’s barefoot. I don’t want him like this, not here. I need to make him leave. I pull out the only thing I can think of. “They will crucify you in court. You can’t do this and walk away. You can’t go onto the stage, subdue a woman, and whip her! You shouldn’t be doing any public anything right now. What’s wrong with you? You’re a smart man--you should understand this is suicide!” I’m practically yelling, and my hands are waving around like a crazy person.
He arches a dark eyebrow at me. “Why do you care?”
“I don’t.”
“Then let's go over the rules and get out there. What’s your safe word?”
I stare at him, shocked. I’m too surprised to think, so the word tumbles out. “Aardvark.”
Sean looks down at me and laughs. “Seriously?”
“You won’t hear it again, so don’t bother teasing me about it. Listen, if you want to walk away, I won’t report it. Actually, I can cover it up. Everyone saw me walk in with a newbie. I’ll show her a few things, and she can take your spot. I’ll say it was a computer glitch.”
Sean steps toward me. I slide away again. He takes another step, and I back away once more. We do it a few more times until my back hits the wall. Sean presses against me, close enough to whisper in my ear, “I don’t need your help.”
“Why are you doing this?”
“I’m already dead, remember? I’m a monster. It’s time I show the world who I really am and stop denying it.”
My stomach twists as he throws those words in my face. It’s as if he knows I’m the one who started those rumors. I grab his wrist and yank him in the other direction, but he won’t move. I growl. “Fine. If you want to be a dumbass and do it in front of as many people as possible, follow me into the web room.”
He hesitates. “The room with the live feed?”
I tug again. “That’s the one. I have a very pretty mask, and they have very elaborate dungeon sets. You can pick your torture chamber and set it free on the Internet.”
Sean nods as if determined and follows me down the hall. All of the doors are unmarked, or this wouldn’t work. I have no idea what I’m going to do once I get him inside, but I can’t let him do this. I have to try something.
When we come to the door, I swipe my keycard. It’s the only thing that will open the lock from either side. I hold the door open and am grateful there’s only one dim glowing red light inside. “There’s no going back.”
Sean turns and looks at me, equally stubborn and committed. I hold the door open and gesture for him to walk inside. As he passes me, I hold my keycard behind my back, fold it in half, and press hard. It snaps. I drop it to the floor and step inside, allowing the door to lock behind me.
SEAN PADS to the center of the room and turns slowly, the red light spilling over his pale skin like blood. He stands beneath the bare bulb, shirtless. His chest rises with each breath and makes me notice his taut nipples.
As our eyes adjust to the dim light, it becomes increasingly evident we are not in the web room. Though now used for storage, this room was once a Level Nine playroom. The walls and ceilings still boast their original racks, but now hang full of out of date and infrequently used items. The old grates now have handcuffs, satin ribbons, rope, and other bindings hanging down from the grid.
His jaw tightens, and he steps toward me. “You did this on purpose.”
I stand my ground. “Yes. You’re behaving erratically.”
He says nothing. His eyes bore into me, filling me with ice. I can’t see the depths this time. I can’t read him at all. Pulse hammering in my ears, I explain. “There are better ways to control your emotions. Saying fuck it and making sure the world sees you’re the monster they think you are will backfire.”
“How?” His strong arms fold over his firm chest. He’s listening. And angry.
“Because they’ll get hung up on the sexual acts. They’ll think less of you, not be more frightened. You crave power and control. But if you make your actions at Club Noir public, no one will fear you. They’ll think you’re a deviant, and that’s all.”
He’s closer now, inching toward me. He towers above me, and I know this was stupid. It’s probably some sort of misplaced guilt about labeling him as a monster in the first place. He wouldn’t be setting himself on fire and showing the world if I hadn’t made the world think it first.
He watches me from beneath thick, dark lashes. “No, they won’t.”
I insist. “Yes, they will. But, if you keep it a secret, if no one knows, you can control everything. You can have moments of peace, retain power, and keep the world wondering how much they should fear you. That’s the better plan.”
“How often do you come here?” The shift in his tone is noticeable. He’s no longer playing defense. Something changed.
My mouth hangs open. “I, uh, not much. Not recently.”
He nods and steps away. Sean slips his hands into his pockets and hangs his head. He paces as he speaks. “I haven’t done anything like this in a long time. I’ve had images in my mind, things that I feel in my arms, in my hands, that I need to do. It’s not a want, Miss Driskill, it’s a need. I feel like I’m suffocating and you’re the only one who sees it.” He turns on his heel and glances up at me.
My stomach dips as my heart pounds harder. My skin prickles all over as if something bad were about to happen. Sean steps toward me one pace at a time, and says, “Tell me what to do.” He stops in front of me and waits.
Shaking my head, I laugh nervously and step away. Hands up, palms toward him, I back away another step. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“I think you do.” He steps closer.
“I don’t.”
I step away until my back hits the empty metal rack bolted to the wall. The steel bars feel like ice on my bare skin. I swallow hard as Sean takes one hand and then the next and holds them on either side of my head, pressing lightly. “Teach me how to forget what I’ve seen. I know you can do it. I know you figured out how to wash the memories away. That’s all I want, a moment without seeing her body covered in blood. A moment without—” he swallows hard, sucking in air and forcing his chest to press against mine. “Without hearing her beg me to come home. I want to forget what happened to us that night, what I lost. Because I lost everything and no matter what the trial outcome is, it’s my fault. This nightmare never ends. My mind never stops thinking of things I could have done differently. If I’d called, if I'd taken her away, if I’d—”
I can’t stand it anymore. The pain within him pierces his voice, ripping him apart in front of me. Every moment he breathes, he’s in agony. I understand because I live the same lie. I look serene on the outside, but there’s only turmoil within.
I pull my wrist out of his grip and press my finger to his lips. “I get it. I wish I didn’t, but I do.”
In that moment, I feel it. This mutual understanding is the footing of friendship. It could turn into something, but I know it can’t. Not with him. He’s trying so hard to forget who he is and what he’s endured that there will be nothing left of him if he goes through with this.
“Then teach me what you do. I’ve seen you in court. I‘ve seen you smiling and acting like nothing weighs you down. I know that’s not true, so how do you find solace?”
It’s like he punched me in the stomach. The part of me that I try so hard to hide is completely visible to him. “I’m not sure I can teach you what you want to know. I’m a ghost of who I was before. Part of it is letting yourself wither. If you have no soul, it doesn’t hurt as much.”
He nods and then steps back. “I died with Amanda. I’m not looking for healing—I just want to survive living.”
It’s becoming more evident that I’m going to be with him. That’s what he’s asking me, to show him how to find a sexual escape. If I do this, if anyone finds out about my being with Ferro, I’ll never work again. At the same time, I remember being where he is, so close to the event and still feeling so raw. I wanted that period of my life to vanish, and it took so long to figure out how to make that happen.
Sean steps toward me and falls to his knees. He lowers his head, making it clear he’s submitting to me. “Please, Paige…help me.”
The words, the way he pleads so softly, decides it for me. I breathe his name as he kneels at my feet. I’ve never felt so powerful before in my life. The great Sean Ferro is at my feet, begging me for help. It should fill me with pride and make me feel powerful, but it doesn’t. The reason why is simple—no matter what I do, I can’t heal his heart.
WE START with the simple things, after stripping him and going over the rules. He says he has no limits, no hard lines. I don’t press him. As he stands there wearing absolutely nothing, it’s difficult not to look at him. Normally, I wouldn't, but he’s so beautiful. Every inch of his body is perfect. If I keep thinking about it I won’t be able to do this. It’s not about sex—it’s about control.
I grab a pair of handcuffs and reach for Sean’s wrist. His lips part and he breathes slowly. I feel his eyes on the side of my face as I reach up and cuff him to the overhead grate. As I work, my arm brushes against his cheek and I wish I could kiss him.
Ignore the naked part. Humiliation is part of being the bottom. He’s naked, and I’m not. It’s not sexual, at least it’s not supposed to be, but I feel so pulled to him. I scold myself and try to snap out of it.
I don’t blindfold him because I need to see his face. I go over a few basics that pertain to me and then add, “Do not speak unless I tell you to. Do you understand?”
His eyes are downcast, and he’s careful not to look at me. “Yes.”
We play a few games, and I’m quickly learning that nothing pulls his mind from his past. He remains far away, the vacant look still in his eyes. I tell him not to hide it from me. I keep trying different things, kicking the pain level up as I go. We’re way past novice, and I’m getting nowhere.
I’ve lashed him, caned him, dripped hot wax down his back, but he doesn’t react. It’s as if he lost the ability to feel anything. Most tops would become harsher now, hitting harder, using clamps, and trying to reach a point where it’s evident that the bottom feels something. My gut impression says that won’t work with Sean.
I change tactics. I’m going to break the rules. He’s chained in place and until now, I haven’t touched him. I can’t do so without it being sexual. I don’t trust myself. But maybe that’s the problem. We both sense this about each other. Maybe I should follow my instincts and see where we end up.
I walk around his body, dragging the pads of my fingers over his bare hips. He inhales sharply, but says nothing. I continue to skim my fingers over him, circling around to the smooth skin and toned muscle of his back. His narrow hips curve into a sexy ass that’s tight and perfect. His legs are long and lean with enough muscle to pin a girl in place.
“Should I stop?”
Sean is tense, finally on edge. It’s the tender touches that do it. He shakes his head and swallows hard. His voice is faint. “Go on.”
I remain behind him, lingering for a moment. I follow my impulse and press my cheek to his back. I slide my hands down his sides as I listen to his heart beating fast within his chest. I lower my lashes and allow them to touch his skin. He gasps like he was hit by a truck.
What happened to make him like this? Tenderness is what sets him on edge. That can’t be right. I need to do something different and test my theory further. There’s one action that’s so personal that I want to try it.
I hesitate in front of him and stare at the floor. I shouldn’t do this. It’s crossing a line. But…
His head is still lowered, hanging between his broad shoulders. “Do whatever you’re thinking. It’s the only way to find out.”
This is wrong.
I shouldn’t be here.
I can’t be with him.
I can’t do this.
But I am.
I bend my knees and slowly lower myself in front of his waist. I’m still wearing my outfit, minus the jacket, and kneeling in front of his perfect package. Leaning in close, I close my eyes and exhale slowly, letting my hot breath wash over him. He lets out a small moan, which makes me wonder.
There’s an element missing, something I need, and I know he needs it, too. I feel it. I glance up at him and catch his eye. His hands are chained above his head, and he tries to look away quickly. It’s supposed to be like that, but not this time.
I rise slowly, and gently press my body to his as I stand. I take his face in my hands and force him to look at me. “Sean, do you like edge play?”
“Level Nine so soon?” He sounds disappointed.
“Not quite. I’m deviating from the norm. So I guess, the question is this—do you trust me?”
Edge play is when you push your partner to their limit. One of the most common forms is asphyxiation. It requires a great deal of trust because the ramifications when performed incorrectly are disastrous.
I accidentally brush his skin with my finger. His eyes focus sharply, and it’s as if my touch was painful. Sean's weakness isn’t air; it’s gentleness.
As the thought fills my mind I realize that I’ve found it—I discovered the Sean Ferro cocktail that will make him forget everything.
SEAN’S EYES lock on mine. My heart beats so hard I think he must hear it. He’s frozen in place, as if he knows I’ve found something. He doesn’t speak, he only nods.
“What’s your safe word? Because I won’t stop.”
He shakes his head. “Don’t stop. If you think you found something, do it. You’re the only woman in here with a Level Nine collar and that jewel. I trust you.”
I press my lips together and swallow hard. I splay both hands on his chest and touch him lightly. I trace the curves of his chest, slowly sliding my fingers over the rise and fall of his body. I trace the lines leading to his pecs and following them down to his abs. I run a finger along each muscle, tracing it softly. My mouth waters as I think about kissing him there, along his stomach, and dragging my tongue along his skin.
It’s a lover’s caress and he hates it, well part of him can’t stand it. The other part is completely erect and begging to be touched. Sean grits his teeth as I touch him, trying not to cry out. The muscles in his neck cord tightly as he fights the sensation.
I ask, “What are you feeling?”
“I can’t—” He hisses through his teeth, unable to speak. I feel like I should stop, but I’m sure I’ve found it.
A bead of sweat rolls down his temple and drips onto the floor. There’s a spreader bar between his ankles to hold his legs apart and then each ankle is chained to the floor. He is beautiful. I wonder what he was like before all this happened. If he enjoyed such light touches from his wife, or if he was a tender lover. I’ll never know.
The only thing I’m certain of is that this will sharpen his senses. He’ll hone in on how to own me, how to destroy me. The challenge is all consuming, and leaves no thought for anything else. I know because I’m doing it to him now. Seeing him fight me is erotic and thinking about taking him in my mouth is such a bad idea—it’s against the club rules. It’s against our agreement. It defies everything because I’m stealing his control. His panic becomes my power. His pain becomes my composure.
As I slip down the front of his body, I think about how far I’m pushing him into places he doesn’t want to go. I control him in these few moments, body, mind, and soul.
As I kneel in front of him, my face is right in front of his beautiful, smooth, long shaft. My mouth is watering as I think about sucking on it. From the way he’s breathing, I don’t think this manwhore has face-fucked many women. Then it dawns on me--that’s not it. He doesn’t want me here, because of her, because of his wife. This was something she did.
When it’s my turn to be the bottom, oh, God—my stomach twists. He’s going to go all out. He won’t stop, but that’s what this is now. I feel calm. His fear empowers me. This isn’t edge play. It’s far past that, but I don’t care.
Leaning in, I hear him gasp as he tries to evade me. I take my hands and place them on his ass, and pull his erection toward my mouth. His muscles are corded tight, trying as hard as he can to pull away, but he can’t break the chains.
Leaning in closer, I press his shaft to my cheek and drag the tip across my face, one side and then the other. Sean is barely breathing, but he manages to say my name. It’s one cry, one plea to stop. This will break him. It’ll break me. “Paige.”
The problem is simple. I said I’d help him, and I’ve never felt like this before. I’m perfectly calm, stronger than I thought possible. I feel like my old self, but better. Why? I don’t understand it, but I know that this is a give and take. Right now I’m taking. In a moment, I’ll have to give it back to him.
He’ll break me, he’ll have to. He has to feel this clarity, this sense of control. It’s a high that feels unbreakable.
He watches me for a moment, and our eyes meet. If he felt this, he’d know it was worth it.
“Do you still trust me?” I watch him, doubting he’ll say yes. This is so wrong, so far outside the norm, even at Club Noir.
Sean nods once. It’s a jerky movement followed by a hard swallow that makes his Adam's apple move in his neck. His dark hair is tousled and damp with sweat. His body glistens in the red light.
I lunge forward and take his hard length in my mouth, sucking and sliding my tongue over his shaft as I do so. Sean yells and tries to jerk away, but he can’t. Placing my hands on his ass steadies him. His head thrashes as if he doesn’t enjoy my mouth on his cock, but it gets bigger and harder as I suck him.
Each pass of my tongue makes him groan between gritted teeth. Every time I push him over the edge makes me more powerful.
I’m greedy and don’t take it slowly. I want to taste him. I work him, pressing him with my tongue and forcing him down my throat, taking him exactly the way I want as he bucks against me, swearing as he does so. I feel it coming, too much too fast. He moans and stops fighting me. As he comes, his hips pump against my mouth, pushing deep into my throat. He thrusts between my lips, filling my mouth with come and I swallow, only to be treated to more. I drink him until there’s nothing left.
When I stand, I notice the way he’s hanging in the chains. His shoulders are slumped like he’s defeated. It’s only temporary, though, because as soon as I unchain him, he’ll find out that this high is perfect.
Before we have a chance to find out, there’s the sound of a lock beeping. The door to the hallway is thrown open, and Gabe is standing there with Claire. She squeaks. “I’m sorry, Paige. I thought you were in trouble when you didn’t show up on stage.”
Gabe looks pissed. “This is not what Club Noir is about. The owner is going to skin you.”
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THE ARRANGEMENT
THE ARRANGEMENT
Chapter 1
THE NIGHT AIR IS FRIGID. It doesn’t help that I’m stuck wearing this little black dress in my crap car. I shiver as I try to keep the engine running at a red light. My little battered car is from two decades ago and stalls if I don’t rev the engine while I have my foot on the brake. I’m driving with two feet, in a car that’s supposed to be an automatic. The heater doesn’t work. If I try to turn it on, I’ll get my face blasted with white smoke. It’s awesome, in an utterly humbling kind of way. At least the car is mine. It gets me where I need to go, most of the time.
The light flips to green and I botch it. I don’t gas the car enough and it shudders and stalls. I grumble and grab for the can of ether. The cars behind me blare their horns.
I ignore them. They can go around me. I grab the can on the seat next to me, kick open my door, and walk around to the hood. I shake the can and spray it into the engine intake. The car will start up as soon as I turn the key now, and I can drive away in shame.
The night air is crisp and filled with exhaust. This road is always busy. It doesn’t matter what time of day it is. Angry drivers move around me. Everyone is always in a hurry. It’s part of the New York frame of mind. I’m treated to a catcall as a car full of guys blows past me. I flip them the bird and hear their laughter echo as they fade from sight.
Tonight couldn’t possibly get any worse. I put the cap on the can of ether. Then it happens. My night takes a one-eighty straight into suckage.
As I drop the hood, it slams shut, and I look through the windshield. “Seriously?” I say at the guy who jumps in my seat. He’s wearing a once-blue fluffy coat and hasn’t shaved for weeks. He turns the key and my crappy car roars to life. He gasses it and takes off, swerving around me. I stand in the lane staring after him. What a moron. Who’d steal that piece of trash?
Still, it’s my car and I need it. After the night I had, I don’t want to run after him, but I have to. I need that car. I take off at a full run. My lungs start to burn as I suck in frozen air and exhaust. I run down the shoulder, avoiding trash that’s laying in the gutter. My attention is singularly focused on my car. I push my body harder and feel my muscles protest, but I don’t hold back. He’s getting away.
I manage to run a block when a guy on a motorcycle slows next to me. “That guy stole your car.” He sounds shocked.
I can’t see his face through the black helmet. It has a tinted visor that covers his face. “No shit, Sherlock,” I huff and keep running. My purse is in the car, my only pair of work-acceptable heels, my books--awh, fuck--my books. I paid over a grand for those. They’re worth more than the car. I run faster. My dress flares around my thighs as my Chucks help me sprint forward. My body doesn’t want to do it. The stitch in my side feels like it’s going to bust open.
The guy on the bike is annoying. He rolls next to me and flips up his face shield. I glance at him, wondering what he’s doing. Biker guy looks at me like I’m crazy. “Are you trying to catch him?”
“Yes,” pointing ahead, huffing. There are three lights on this stretch of road before the ramp to get on the parkway. If he hits a red light, the car will stall and I’ll get it back. My lungs are burning and it’s not like I have time to explain this. My car has already passed the first light. “If he stops, the car will stall.”
“You want me to help?” he glances at the car and then back at me.
I stop and nearly double over. Holy hell, I’m out of shape. I nod and throw my leg over the back of his bike, flashing the cars driving past us. I so don’t care. Wrapping my arms around his waist, I hold on tight and say, “Go.”
“I was going to call the cops, but this works, too.” He sounds amused. I hold onto his trim waist and plaster myself against his back. He’s wearing a leather jacket, and I can feel his toned body through the supple material. He pulls into traffic and zips through the lanes. The wind blasts my hair and plasters my eyelashes wide open. We bob and weave, getting closer and closer to my car. My heart is racing so fast that it’s going to explode.
I see my car. It’s passing the second light. Motorcycle man punches it, and the bike flies under the second intersection just as the light changes. I manage not to shriek. My skirt flies up to my hips, but I don’t let go of the biker’s waist to push the fabric back down.
We’re nearly there when the thief catches the third light. The car in front of him stops, forcing the carjacker to stop as well. As soon as he takes his foot off the gas, my car convulses and white smoke shoots out the tailpipe. The engine ceases. The driver’s side door is kicked open and the guy runs.
Motorcycle man pulls up next to my car. I slip off the back of the bike, my heart beating a mile a minute. I can’t afford to lose this stuff. I’m barely making it as it is. I look at my car. Everything is still there. I turn back to the guy on the bike as I smooth my skirt back into place.
Tucking my hair behind my ear, I say, “Thanks.” I must seem insane.
He flips his face shield up and says, “No problem. Does your car always do that?” A pair of blue eyes meet mine and the floor of my stomach gives way. Damn, he’s cute. No, not cute--he’s hot.
“Get jacked? No, not always.”
He smiles. There’s a dusting of stubble on his cheeks. I can barely see it because of the helmet. He raises an eyebrow at me and asks, “This has happened before, hasn’t it?”
More times than you’d think. Criminals are really stupid. “Let’s just say, this isn’t the first time I had to chase after the car. So far no one’s made it to the parkway. That damn light takes forever and I keep stalling out in the same spot. You’d think I’d figure it out by now, but…” But I’m mentally challenged and prefer to chase after car thieves. I stop talking and press my lips together. His eyes run over my dress and pause on my sneakers, before returning to my face. Great, he thinks I’m mental.
Turning to the car, I grab another can of ether from the backseat and walk around to the front. I dropped the last can somewhere behind me. I pop the hood and spray. I’m so cold that I’ve gone numb. As I walk back to my door, I shake my head saying, “Who steals a car that barely runs?”
“Do you need any help?” The guy holds my gaze for a moment and my stomach twists. He seems sincere, which kills me. A strange compulsion to spill my guts tries to overtake me, but I bash it back down.
Pressing my lips together, I shake my head, and swallow the lump in my throat. Today sucked. I’m totally alone. No one helps me, and yet this guy did. “No, I’m okay,” I lie as I slip into my car and yank the door shut. “Thanks for the ride.” I turn the engine over and smile at him. The window is down. It doesn’t go up.
“Anytime.” He nods at me, like he wants to say something else. All I can see of his face is his crystal blue eyes and a beautiful mouth. He’s sitting on a bike that cost more than my tuition. He’s loaded and I’ve got nothing. A pang of remorse shoots through me, but I need to go. The haves and the have-nots weren’t made to mingle. I already learned that lesson once. I don’t need to learn it again.
“Thanks,” I say before he can ask my name. “I’ll see you around.” I smile at him and drive away, holding back tears that are building behind my eyes.
It’s weird. There are so many shitty people in the world, and on the worst day of my life, I finally find a nice one and I’m driving away from him.