“No grandkids for me, man. Not in the fucking equation. Hell Tyler, I don’t know what I’m doing right now. I might care for this girl, but I don’t have a goddamn thing to offer her.” I leaned my pounding head back against the padded office chair.
“Bullshit, Justin. You have everything to offer her. And if it feels right, then it probably is. I never gave love a second thought until Alexa. Then it knocked me flat on my ass. Surprised the shit out of me when I realized I couldn’t take another breath if my little fiery hothead wasn’t in my life. And it feels good. Fuck, it feels good.”
“Whoa, slow the fuck down, Dr. Phil.” I stood up. It was time to end this conversation. “Let’s go get that drink.”
The club was slower than usual. Probably a good thing since the whole front area still reeked of vomit. Tyler and I sat at the bar, a scotch in his hand while I opted for ordinary H20. A tall lanky sub with her Dom were only feet away from where we were sitting. Beautiful and just exactly Tyler’s type, pre-Alex, we both watched the couple in silence. She was chewing insistently on her bottom lip while her Dom, who I happened to know was a well-known wealthy investment banker, whispered something in her ear making her smile as she spread her legs. The Dom grabbed her neck as his hand eased between her legs, disappearing into the depths of her moist sex, or quite possibly her ass.
“Jesus. Fuck,” Tyler uttered, his jaw tensing as he turned away from the couple and emptied his glass. The woman was extremely beautiful and desirable, and only a few months before, Tyler would have taken one just like her to his private room and had his tongue three inches deep inside her slick wet channel, readying his cock for her as he pleasured her into one of multiple orgasms I knew he was capable of offering.
Holy Christ, the thought made my dick hurdle.
Chapter Ten
Hartley
The private social facility located in the Downtown area of Dallas, Texas.
We make it a priority to offer the members of Venture a safe and clean, as well as discreet, establishment to serve the growing BDSM society in a classy plush space that can take in and accommodate the community.
Offering forty stations, fifteen private rooms, music, and only the best in furniture and equipment, we are also known nation-wide for the famous Mystery Room.
Hosting various events during each calendar month, we include training classes, as well as our bi-yearly auctions.
Admission to Venture is carefully guarded to ensure that only members are able to enter the facility.
We have rules that are strictly expected to be respected and followed for legal purposes, and monitors reviewing every showing to make sure roles are carefully adhered to, guaranteeing the utmost in safety.
With my eyes glued to Venture’s website, I jumped at the simple echo of my next-door neighbor’s door slamming shut. Jesus, scared shitless didn’t begin to define how I felt. How would anyone like me know what to wear to a BDSM club? Was I seriously going to do this? Nothing but a simple small-town girl from Kansas, I’d only read about and dreamed of this lifestyle. No time to get decked out in formal attire right now, black leggings with knee-high boots were always a safe choice. I’d probably still stick out like a sore thumb, but screw it. It was the best I could manage. My phone dinged with a text. Well, wasn’t this a déjà vu? It was from Mr. One Fine Ass himself, setting off a quick buzz in my belly.
Girly parts still aching sweet thing? I’m giving myself a fist-pump as we speak.
What? What? Oh, hell to the no! Did I hit Mr. One Fine Ass instead of Mandy? Was I completely blind? Oh fuck!
****
The sign on the door was small and discreet, only making me that much more nervous. God, it was just a damn sign, but nearing the entry, my chest was thumping. Downright embarrassed at sending Justin the text intended for Mandy’s eyes only, could I even face him now?
Justin owned Venture, a no-brainer behind the meaning of that. He was a Dominant male who got off possessing women, insisting they weaken themselves for his pleasure. Ego issues. Didn’t all alpha males have them? Just what he needed—something to stroke his self-esteem a little more.
Either way, it was making sense now. His refusal to love or commit. Hesitant about how all this made me feel, it was definitely unsettling and undoubtedly the reason Jacks practically forbade me from visiting Venture … and Justin.
“My name is Hartley Shipman. I’m here to see Justin.”
Holy crap.
My heart raced. The large man guarding the front door returned the radio back to his hip, his smile fake and mechanical-looking as he nodded and opened the door. Ripped with massive cords of muscle, he looked like he belonged on a SWAT team instead of guarding a fetish club. For some reason, I just didn’t like him. A beautiful tall brunette stood inside greeting incoming members. Beautiful being an understatement, she was dressed in a nude-colored satin strapless corset, the knee-high matching stockings topped with big bows. So this was what Justin got to ogle during his evenings. My stomach turned flips at the meaning of that.
“Good evening, Ms. Shipman. Justin is waiting for you at the bar. This way.”
She gestured toward the bar.
Nothing like I’d visualized, Venture was pretty and elegant. No smells of bleach or disinfectant like I’d imagined. What really caught my attention was the subtle fragrance radiating off the fresh flowers lining the hallway. Vase after vase of beautiful fragrant pink flowers.
My heart hammered at the sight of the large stage. Two men stood on tall ladders hanging something from the ceiling while a beautiful woman clad in what I would call a cat-suit watched, saying something to them as they worked. How many women like this had lost their panties to Justin? The thought made my stomach roll.
To my right, two clear, thick-lashed, heated blue eyes locked onto mine. For the first time since I walked through the door, my stomach didn’t feel two seconds from sprinting up my windpipe and ending up a chunky heap of nervous puke. His eyes were glowing and playful. Against the bar, involved in a conversation with a professional-looking gentleman, Justin patted the man on his shoulder and walked toward me, his gaze fixed. Dripping with self-trust, every aspect about him, physically and none was sexual. I was way in over my head.
God, the last thing I needed was another relationship.
Why in hell was my mind even venturing in that direction? Obviously, I sucked at them. And Justin was like a million other men. He only fucked for fun.
In the middle of a true fetish club, I was watching a true, drop-dead gorgeous Dom walk toward me who I still felt inside the lower channel of my body with every step I took. I couldn’t exactly perceive what I was feeling, even though the small beads of nervous sweat on my forehead proved one thing—I was turned on.
Damn. Double freaking damn.
Justin, the epitome of a hot sex god, who I’d just had scorching nasty sex with was no longer the cute boy from my dreams. A successful businessman, Justin was a millionaire. Owner of the largest club of its type in the entire metroplex according to the internet.
A player.
A Dom.
“Hartley. Does Jackson know you’re here?” He raised a hand, rubbing it across the swollen side of his jaw. His eyes raked over me, lifting back up with a wink. “Are you still achy?”
“Oh, God. Did Jacks do that? Holy shit.”
He reached for my hand. “Come on. Let’s go back to my office.” My eyes twisting from side to side as I took in the surroundings, my thoughts ran with a quick galloping speed and a shit ton of ideas. Justin’s strides were hard to keep up with as we walked down a row of several closed doors. I couldn’t help but notice the stairway leading up to another level and a door with a large ‘M’ on the outside, wondering what was in both.
Around a corner, we stopped. Justin pulled a magnetic card from his back pocket and slid it through the small slit of what I assumed was his office door. His expression unreadable as he pushed the door open, he let me lead the way inside.
“Justin, please tell me. Did Jacks do that to you?” He gestured for me to take a seat on the leather sofa and walked behind his desk, turning off the monitor streaming the action outside the door. He sat down beside me, the answer to my question obvious by his expression.
“Jesus. I can’t believe him.”
“Let it go,” he said. “He’s just concerned about his baby sister, Hartley.” He took my hand and lowered it onto my leg, rubbing the top of my thigh. His muscular leg brushed the side of mine. Just the small gesture, combined with the way he smelled, sent my heart into fast forward.
“Look,” I whispered. “In all seriousness, I want to apologize for Jackson’s behavior. He’s always been protective and controlling, but he had no right…” I brushed a finger across his jaw, “To do this.” Justin lifted my hand and kissed it.
“Does it hurt?”
His lips swept over the top of my wrist, “Nah, I’ll live. I’ve had worse.”
His jaw tensing, I knew he tried making light of the situation. I also knew it probably struck a small nerve deep down.
“You’re a successful businessman, Justin. On top of that, I’m a grown woman. My brother may not realize it, but I can take care of myself. And I’ve been having sex for years, whether he wants to hear that or not.” His jaw clenched a little when I said that. That was hot.
His finger lingered over my thigh.
“Go ahead. I know you’re dying to ask me questions.”
He was right. My mind spiraled with curiosity. A thousand filled my head.
“I looked at the website and I googled you. Venture is a BDSM club. You’re a Dom, which explains why you don’t love.”
His eyebrows lifted. “Interesting concept,” he replied, looking amused at my assertions.
“You’re involved with gobs of women. There’s really nothing else to know, is there?”
His lips brushed across my neck.
“Gobs?” He placed small kisses behind my ear, smiling against my skin. The sensation nearly lifted me from the couch. “I love your choice of words.”
“You like inducing pain and hurting women. Making them submit sexually.” I leaned farther into the warm lips still setting my neck on fire. “I personally find it fascinating.”
His brows rose again. I surprised myself by saying that, my face now tingling with modesty.
“Pain? Fascination?” His voice was whispery and seductive. “Never pain, sweet Hartley,” he whispered. “Only extreme pleasure. And maybe a touch of leftover achiness.”
Holy Hell.
“Can I ask you some questions? Just … stuff?” I smiled, an electric tingle swelling through my erect nipples and trickling down my spine.
“Of course, sweetheart. You can ask me all the … stuff you want.”
“Do these places really require contracts, or is that just fiction? Have you had contracts? Do you have one now?”
He tilted his head at my questions, kissing the side of my neck again. God, my panties were going to melt if he kept doing that.
“That sure is a lot of stuff, sweet thing,” he answered, lazily drawling his words. His tongue slowly slipped inside the lobe of my ear. “Which answer would you like first?”
Oh. God. Wait. A. Freaking. Second. Here.
I couldn’t concentrate with him doing that and I really wanted a few answers.
I eased back from his miraculous mouth, sensing he got the message that I wanted to talk. His eyes turned serious.
“Sometimes contracts are mandatory. A signed agreement lets both parties know when and if they plan on playing together for a week, a month, or however long they choose, in writing. That way, they both know an exact date when it all ends. Just makes things simpler for both the Dom and sub.”
Signing a contract for sex seemed so cold and meaningless. But then, who was I to judge? In all honesty, empty sex was all I knew, thanks to Bruce.
Cheating fucking bastard.
“So anything goes between a Dom and sub? Or are there limits on what couples are allowed to do?” I smiled back at the amused look on his face. “I read a lot of erotica.”
“Of course you do.” He grinned. “That’s actually a perfectly normal question. One I get asked quite a bit by newbies.” Newbies. Is that what I was now?
“And no. We have heavy limits here at Venture. We don’t allow any play with urine or other bodily functions, if you get my drift.”
“Oh. That’s sick. People really like that kind of thing?” I didn’t look down on anyone’s sexual preferences, but that grossed me out.
“Not here they don’t. But people’s kink levels go all directions. We also require condoms between all couples, no matter what. We’re very adamant about safety and health issues. We have to be.”
Bodily functions? I was still getting a visual. And it was downright disgusting.
“And you? Are you in a relationship, Justin?”
“No, Hartley. It’s been almost two years since I had a sub.” His eyes narrowed. “You googled me so I’m pretty positive you can probably figure out why,” he said in a hushed voice. “I hurt someone. I made an irreversible mistake and I never intend on doing something like that again.” A tremble of unease ran across my body as I fought not to reach for him. He took a deep breath, holding it in for seconds before releasing.
I stared at his flawless face, not understanding. Hurting somebody, namely a woman, didn’t seem realistic. I wanted to ask. Know more. Maybe one day I would.
“Come on. Something tells me you might like a quick tour.” His smile returned and he held out a hand, helping me from the couch.
I smiled. “You’d be correct.”
We walked out of Justin’s office, so close to each other that I consciously struggled to keep from reaching up and kissing his mouth. He laced his fingers through mine.
“Come on, sweet thing.” God, I loved it when he called me that.
“What’s with all the pink flowers? They’re stunning. They smell nice, too.” He dropped his hand from mine, sliding it over the top of his head.
“Tyler’s little sister was killed when she was young. His family went through some serious shit after that. Pink lilies are his mother’s favorite and lined his little sister’s casket.” He shrugged. “He helped me open this place, so I decided to use the flowers as a token of thanks. It sort of just became a permanent fixture after a while.”
I swallowed hard, almost wishing I hadn’t asked. “Oh God. I’m so sorry. That’s heartbreaking.”
Curiosity rushed my brain after that comment. Tyler helped him open his business. Did this mean my new boss lead a dominant lifestyle, too?
He looked away for a minute before speaking, “It was a hard time for their family.”
We started walking. This place was massive. Areas resembling normal sitting areas were filled with plush furniture. Three couples were sitting and talking, nothing about that looking different from any other club. Ahead, several doors were closed, probably private rooms. I glanced at the long staircase leading to whatever was above us.
“That leads to the dungeon. Ours is upstairs instead of the typical down. Wanna take a peak?”
Sure the hell do.
“Definitely.” Everything was so nice, and I really liked the reasoning behind all the pink lilies. The gesture was sweet. Buried behind his hard exterior, Justin had a soft side.
We reached the top of the staircase, my chest tightening as I nervously tucked one side of hair behind my ear. Sex equipment was everywhere. On the walls. In enclosed cabinets. Some I recognized, and some I didn’t even want to know about. But just like everything else I’d seen, it all seemed plush and elegant … if you could consider whips, chains, and spanking benches graceful and chic.
I looked up at Justin. “Everything is beautiful. It’s nothing like I expected.”
He smiled, pressing his hand against the small of my back.
“Expecting nothing but tortured women suspended from the ceiling? Screaming? Crying?” I sigh
ed, my eyes glued to his smiling lips.
“We’re simply a club for the community to act out their needs without shame.”
“I see,” I said, feeling a little ridiculous at how naïve I really was.
A little further down, Justin stopped, wrapping an arm around my waist.
In front of us was a large x-frame. I knew exactly what it was and what it was used for. I held back my breath for seconds. Justin’s palm tightened across my back.
Holy crapness!
My sex clenched, a small drizzle of moisture trickling into my panties as I breathed deep, trying to choke out the longing racing through my chest.
“Is this, umm … a Saint Andrews cross?”
“It is,” Justin said in his low baritone voice, dampness reaching my thighs, my nipples turning hard and achy.
Thick soft leather in a deep burgundy chocolate lined the entire apparatus. Even the wrist and ankle restraints were padded. A woman was blindfolded, bound with her face toward the cross. Her Dom held a candle, dripping hot beads of wax down her lower back, the small heated pearls stopping precisely at the top of her butt. She tugged against the restraints every time the Dom leaned the candle over to let the newly formed waxy beads of heat drop onto her delicate skin. With every strain against the straps holding her in place, he caressed her butt, leaning in and whispering something to her that only she could hear, before moving his hand down between her legs and rubbing her most fragile area. Every time he did, she pulled against the restraints even harder, almost as if she was thrusting to get closer to him.
I couldn’t see her expression, but the vibes surrounding her were substantial. This was far from her first time to cede control to this Dom. She was completely turned on by what he was doing and he was highly skilled. Giving her Dom all the power and reaping the benefits of the pleasure she knew she was giving him was … beautiful. The emotion between the two of them was beyond the imagination. So completely in tune with each other, I suddenly found myself questioning my true needs and wondering if maybe I wanted more than just an average romantic relationship.
Crimson Sunsets Page 7
