by Grace Morgan
“Born ready,” I said, flashing Carter a smile. He grinned back. Burke acted as though he hadn’t heard us.
“Well then,” Carter said, opening the door and waving me in, “this is our club.”
A raised platform in the center of the room was strewn with pillows in the same shades of blue and grey as the furnishings downstairs. The walls were lined with couches and loveseats, except for one.
“What are those?” I asked, pointing at the row of curtained booths.
“Why don’t you take a look?” Carter put his hand on the small of my back, and a pleasurable jolt shot through my body. I stole a glance at Burke, but he was staring at his phone, intent on whatever he was reading. For some reason, his dismissal bothered me on a level I wasn’t ready to admit to.
“As long as you come with me,” I said to Carter, and was rewarded by seeing Burke’s eyes flicker, ever so slightly, over to the two of us.
Carter led me over to one of the booths and pulled aside the heavy velvet curtain. Inside was a small bench and a smoky grey window into the next room, which was filled with beds, couches, padded tables, and wooden structures that I didn’t recognize.
Whoa.
“Is that … I mean … do you watch people? Do they know about this?”
I heard a short bark of laughter from Burke, and my cheeks turned bright red. Carter smiled kindly at me.
“Absolutely. This,” he said, waving his hand at the room, “is the Watching Room. It’s where our more voyeuristic members spend the majority of their time. And that,” he continued, pointing to the next room, “is the Exhibition Room, for members who get off on being watched.”
I leaned toward the window, fascinated. The idea of secretly watching others during their most private moments was intriguing. And exciting. I imagined the Exhibition Room as it must be at night, full of bare skin and bodies writhing together, their pleasure only intensified by the idea of people standing on the other side of the glass, watching and touching themselves and each other.
“And which side of the window do you prefer to be on?” I asked Carter, noting how close my body was to his in the cramped space. I hadn’t even realized he’d pulled the curtain closed behind us. It just added to the intimacy.
“That depends. Would you rather be watching me, or playing with me?” Carter reached around and toyed with the zipper on the back of my dress, drawing me closer.
My confidence bolstered by this attractive man’s attention, I inhaled swiftly, and tried my best sultry tone. “I think I’d rather watch, but once I got comfortable with things…—”
Before I could finish the sentence, Burke yanked the curtain open.
“If you two are done with the fucking foreplay, can we continue with the tour?”
“Of course,” I said sweetly. “Have you finished checking your email? I wouldn’t want to rush you.”
Damn it. It was like a reflex. Pushing his buttons just came naturally to me. His intense eyes narrowed on mine, and I could tell he wasn’t used to being challenged. Especially inside of his own club.
Carter snorted, trying to pass it off as a cough. Burke’s already-dark eyes went a deeper shade of blue, and his jaw tightened.
“Let’s move on,” he barked.
We headed further down the hallway, bypassing the Exhibition Room that I’d seen through the window. I turned to Burke, hoping to do some damage control. I needed him to trust me if I had a chance at succeeding here.
“Where did the name Second Circle come from?”
“Dante.”
I waited for him to elaborate, and when he didn’t, I pressed on.
“So it’s hell?”
He stopped so abruptly that we nearly collided. His movements were slow as he turned around to look at me.
“The second circle in Dante’s Inferno is full of people who were overcome by lust. People who let their desire for passion and pleasure overcome their rational beings. That’s what we want people to experience here.”
His eyes bored into mine, and no matter how hard I tried to look away, I was locked into his gaze. My heart sped up in my chest and my nipples hardened, impossible to hide in my tight dress. What was this man doing to me?
“Our Second Circle isn’t about punishment. At least, not for people who don’t want it. We want our members to let go of the judgment and shame of the outside world and embrace the darkest parts of themselves. We want them to be able to do those things that they dream about, when they wake up hard or wet and aching, but they never thought would be possible in their real lives.”
Burke took another step toward me, so close that I thought I could feel the heat from his skin on mine, and it took every ounce of strength I had to keep my hands fisted at my sides and not reach out and touch him.
“It’s about breaking down every wall. Being naked and exposed. And then, once you’ve pushed yourself farther than you ever thought possible, the intense, unimaginable pleasure of getting lost in it. Letting go. And then needing to do it again.”
He reached out and trailed his finger along my jaw and my vision blurred. All I could think about was pressing up against him, feeling his hard cock against my hip, his hands in my hair—
“If I didn’t know you better, Burke, I’d think you were trying to steal Lola here away from me.”
Carter’s voice broke the spell, and I stumbled away from Burke. I had to get myself together. This was work. Trying—once again—to regain my composure, I smiled at Carter.
“I think I’m ready to see more,” I said, hoping my voice didn’t sound as breathless to them as it did to me. I chanced a quick look at Burke, but he was already staring at his phone again.
Carter and a brooding Burke walked me through the other rooms: the dungeon, with its huge, heavy racks and spreaders, and chains and cuffs designed to pull the body into configurations I couldn’t even imagine; the impact play room, where I ran my fingers over thin, vicious whips and flat, unforgiving paddles; the “set rooms,” designed to look like a doctor’s office and a corporate meeting room, for people who wanted to role-play.
Even as I listened to Carter’s explanations of each place, my mind was divided. One part of me was tracking Burke, always aware of where he was as he trailed behind us. But another part of me was returning: the part of me that wanted to know where Hope was, whether someone sinister had slipped in, unnoticed, among the leather and wood and chains.
We found ourselves at the end of the hallway, standing before an imposing wooden door crossed by heavy iron bars.
“Now this,” said Carter, “is a particular favorite of Burke’s. He likes to—”
Just then, Carter’s phone buzzed in his hand. He looked down at it and rolled his eyes.
“That’s what I get for skipping a call. Don’t go too hard on her just yet, Burke,” Carter said, giving him a knowing look.
And just like that, we were alone.
Chapter 2
Burke
Lola and I stood at the door to the room that I couldn’t stop thinking about having her in. Fuck, I needed to get my head in order. I didn’t need to be thinking shit like that.
“What’s in there?” she asked. It was the first time I’d heard her sound nervous.
Without a word, I pushed open the door. She stepped inside, her body brushing past mine so closely that her long, dark hair grazed my chest, and for a moment I thought about grabbing it, backing her up against the door, and kissing those fuckable lips until she was breathless and whimpering for me to fill her. Her mouth did things to me that no self-respecting Dom should ever have to admit to. Full and pouty, it delivered sassy lines that made me want to put her over my knee and paddle her ass.
Why was this woman getting to me so easily? The whole time we’d been walking up the stairs to the second floor, I had been acutely aware of where she was. It was like I could feel her behind me, her hips swinging as she climbed the stairs in that black dress. I’d mentally unzipped it a dozen times before we’d hit the top
step.
In the Watching Room, I’d watched those dark brown eyes of hers go wide as her fingers had unconsciously traced along the neckline of her dress, lingering on her breasts. I would’ve traded a hell of a lot to know what she’d been picturing at that moment. And her tits…good fucking God. I wanted to know what color her nipples were, how hard they’d get when I teased her, and if she’d gasp and buck against me when I tugged on them with my teeth.
And while I’d been thinking about fucking her, Carter had led her into one of the watching booths and pulled the curtain shut behind them.
Even as I felt the anger bubbling up inside of me, I had tried to ignore it. Hell, let him, I thought. Wanting to fuck her didn’t mean that I felt anything for her. And Carter and I had been known to have overlapping taste in the past. So what if he was trying to seduce her? Didn’t mean a damn thing.
I had managed to hold onto that conviction until he started talking. I stood there, hands clenched into fists, listening to them flirt—Lola’s low, sultry laugh as Carter explained the rules of the club and teased her. I tried not to picture their bodies pressed together, his hand knotted in her hair, the sound of her moan when he made her come.
Then she’d implied that she wouldn’t mind a visit with Carter in the Watching Room.
Maybe breaking up their foreplay hadn’t been the most level-headed thing to do, but in that moment, the fact I’d grasped was that it needed to fucking stop.
Why was I letting her get to me? Women begged me to take control of them. They got wet just thinking about the sting of my hand on their bare skin when I spanked them, or the feeling of my restraints holding them down while I took what I wanted from them—and gave them the ultimate pleasure in return. But the only person I could imagine having under my control right now was Lola.
Fuck. I needed to get my shit together—and I really needed to shake off whatever the hell she was doing to me. I still didn’t know who this woman was, or why she was here. That should be my main concern, not how tight her pussy would be while I bent her over and fucked her.
She was standing by the wall, running her fingers over a pair of black leather cuffs that hung from heavy iron chains anchored to the wall. She fastened the snaps around her own small wrist, examining the contrast between the dark leather and her ivory skin. My cock pulsed against my zipper. I wanted both of her wrists in cuffs, her hands over her head, helpless while I toyed with her.
“Drop the act,” I said, trying to regain control of my thoughts and of the situation. “Why are you really here?”
Lola looked back at me, her eyes challenging.
“What makes you think I’m lying?”
“Because,” I said, closing the distance between us, moving in closer and closer until she had to look up at me, the tops of her full, round breasts perfectly displayed beneath my gaze. “I don’t believe that you get turned on by the idea of giving up control or following your desires to the extremes.” Not to mention that showing up here on a Tuesday morning asking for membership was a bit out of the ordinary. Usually, people came to the lounge on a Friday or Saturday night—they wanted to see the club, and the members, in action before making such a big decision. And I was certain Lola had never set foot in this club before today. I’d remember her. An air of innocence still intact, but a body made for sin. If she had been here before, either Carter or I would have fucked her. Maybe together. The thought of him touching her made me feel like punching something.
Unable to resist gauging her reaction, I reached out and wove my fingers into her hair before curling them into a loose fist. Her mouth opened on a soft gasp, but she made no move to turn away. I tugged her head back gently, exposing her long, flawless neck and throat.
“So do you?” I asked. Her breathing came harder and faster with every shallow inhalation. “Does the thought of shedding everything, all the judgments, all the inhibitions, all the bullshit, make you wet?”
I took her chin in my other hand, and traced my thumb over those perfect pink lips and down the side of her cheek. Her eyes slid closed, and she drew in a long, shaky breath.
She opened her eyes and looked directly at me, confidence practically vibrating off her.
“Well, if it didn’t before, it certainly does now.”
Shit. Her response was not what I’d expected. It wasn’t the kind of response I’d get from any sub in this entire damn club. And yet she’d yielded to me, if even for only a few moments. And fuck, but her submission was sweet. I let go of her hair and took a step away. I needed a second. I spun and walked to the table behind us and pulled out a long, black jute rope.
“Do you know what this is?”
“It’s a rope.”
I shook my head. “This isn’t the kind of rope you pick up at some hardware store. It’s Kinbaku rope. For Japanese bondage.”
“So you use it to tie people up.” She looked unimpressed.
“No,” I said, sliding the robe across my palm. Something about having the tools of my kink within in my hands put me solidly back in control. “You don’t just tie people up. Kinbaku is about precision and beauty. The way the knots look against the skin. Knowing that someone trusts you enough to give you total control of their body and their breath. You use the rope to tell someone how you desire them.”
Lola bit her bottom lip, and my hard won control slipped a notch before I forced myself back into teaching Dom mode.
“The end result isn’t as important as the process,” I continued. “The passion and skill and determination it takes to create the perfect amount of tension and the intricate knots are the real art. When you have someone in front of you, bound in a web of rope, and you know that each loop and braid is creating a deeper connection, it’s like no other feeling in the world.”
She blinked at me, and I realized I’d deviated from my normal speech about the rope into something a hell of a lot more personal. I straightened, refusing to let her see that it wasn’t a purposeful admission.
“So Carter was telling the truth about this being your favorite room, then,” Lola said, reaching out to take the rope from my hands. I reined in my reactions as her fingers grazed my skin. She shouldn’t affect me this way. I was the one in control here, and she was the novice. Not that I was fucking acting like it.
She ran the rope across her palm, much like I had, trailing it over her wrist. “Do a lot of women get tied up in here?”
“Yes, but only those who get off on it, or get off on pleasing a Dom who enjoys it.”
“Was Hope Michaels ever tied up in here?”
The name hit me with the force of a Mac truck and for a moment I couldn’t breathe. I turned away from Lola, my chest tight and unchecked anger raging inside of me.
“I fucking knew it. So that’s why you’re here.” I shook my head and laughed, harsh and humorless, at myself. I hated being right all the time. “Who are you really?” I demanded. I didn’t know who I was angry with, but it felt good to have someone to release it on.
She stared back at me levelly. No fear, no apology.
“I’m with the Austin Tribune. I want to find out what happened to Hope.”
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I muttered, rubbing my temples. “That’s just fucking great. And it’s not going to happen. Not here. Not in my club.”
“Did you know her?” she asked, refusing to back down.
“Next question,” I growled.
“Why? Are you actually going to answer the next one? I don’t ask questions because it’s fun; I ask them because it’s my freaking job. I’m a reporter, Burke, not one of your playthings to tie up in pretty knots.”
“And you’ll be lying again if you tell me that part of you doesn’t want to be both.” I could see her accelerated heart rate, the vein pumping in her neck. She might be here for answers, but she was also attracted to me—and to the idea of what we did here.
Lola cleared her throat and took a moment to compose herself before starting again. “Did you know
her?” she repeated.
The woman wasn’t going to let it go. So I answered honestly. “Of course I knew her. I know every member of this club.”
“Then what happened to her?” she pressed.
“You’re not the first person to ask, and I’ll tell you the same thing I’ve told everyone else: I have no fucking idea.” I was barely holding on to the edge of my temper as I fought to keep my tone calm.
“Don’t you want to know what happened to her? A woman disappears after leaving your club, your kinky sex club,” she emphasized, as though I’d forgotten. As she spoke, she walked closer and closer to me, never breaking eye contact, “and everyone assumes that something terrible happened to her here. That you’re all monsters. Don’t you want people to know the truth? Or is that what you’re afraid of?”
“I don’t give a damn what people think about me,” I spat.
“Then let me investigate. If no one here was involved, then you have nothing to worry about.”
Her request penetrated the haze of anger that had settled over me, and my first instinct was to tell her no fucking way would I let her investigate…and then my dick joined the debate. Would having her close really be that bad? She’d be close enough to touch…and tempt.
“What exactly do you want from me?” I asked.
“I want to talk to anyone Hope was close to, anyone who might have information about what happened. And access to any footage you have from those.” She pointed to the cameras tucked into the corner of the room. “Or are they just for the voyeurs?”
I smiled despite myself. “No, those are real security cameras. We keep an eye on things to make sure members don’t get in over their heads.”
While I’d replied, Lola had started absent-mindedly playing with the rope again. Watching her delicate fingers slide over the rope, my cock tendered another argument: Keep her close, and she’ll be at your mercy. I reached out and closed a fist over the rope and gripped Lola’s wrists in the other. Her breath caught.
