“The breast, or the club?” he asked.
“The club, smartass.”
“Maybe your grandfather wasn’t as honest and open as you thought. Maybe there were a few skeletons in his closet.” Landon looked up with a surprising amount of fire in his eyes. “I wonder if you’re the kind of person who would rather dig them up or bury them to preserve his precious memory?”
I wasn’t sure why, but I sensed that the question wasn’t just a casual one—as if Landon was going to make some sort of decision based on how I responded. “I’m the type of person who is interested in the truth, no matter how much it stings.”
“I wonder if you mean that,” Landon said.
“What about you?” I asked. “If my grandfather is going to give my inheritance to a man I know nothing about, I’d at least like to know why. Why you? Who were you to him?”
Landon looked at his glass of water and drew his eyebrows together. “That would be the inconvenient truth—the one I’m not sure you’re ready for. I’ll just say this—the club should’ve been left to me. I’m the one who worked my ass off to make it what it is. The hotel? Fine. If he wanted to give it to you and your sisters, I wouldn’t have cared.”
“What are you saying?”
“Complete his list, and you can have your share of the hotel. But the club is mine.”
I considered what he’d said, licking my lips. “And if I don’t complete the list?”
“Then I keep it all.”
I clenched my teeth. The red light from the bar washed his face, making him seem even more sinister. He could’ve been talking about keeping a quarter he found on the road for all he seemed to care.
“Why?” I asked. “You said it yourself. All you’d need to do is spin a story for the lawyers. So the list is completely irrelevant. My grandfather went to the trouble of making that video, creating all these crazy stipulations, but in the end, all you have to do is lie.”
“Maybe. But let me ask you this. What would happen if I gave you your share of the hotel, no questions asked?”
“We could both get out of each other’s lives as fast as possible.”
Landon leaned in. “And what if that’s not what I want?”
My breath caught. Part of me was flattered that he wasn’t ready to see me walk away. The other part of me was pissed off.
Then again, I wasn’t going to lie. I was so curious it hurt. The writer in me was drawn to mysteries, and Landon was a big, sexy mystery of the highest order. It was the kind of brain food writers dreamed about. Worse, even if I hadn’t begun to understand why, this was something Grandpa Willy had asked me to do. It was the last thing he’d asked me to do, and the only way I’d ever figure out why was if I faced it.
“Let’s say I’m considering this,” I said. “What stops you from lying even if I do complete the list? How do I know you’ll still give me my share of the hotel?”
“I don’t need it, for starters. The club is basically a money printing machine. If that’s not enough, well, tough luck, I guess. Either you play along and accept the risks, or you don’t play at all. Only one option ends with the possibility that you get what you want.”
I glared.
This was it. Option one was walking away and never looking back. Option one also involved the high likelihood that I’d always feel like I let grandpa down somehow. Also wondering if I would’ve ever found a way to break through the disguise Landon had started wearing when he found out who I was—to find my way back to the guy I’d caught a tantalizing glimpse of by the vending machines.
Option two, on the other hand…
“Show me The Red Room.”
Landon laughed, then looked back at his water and shook his head. “Funny.”
“I’m serious. Take me there.”
He cocked an eyebrow and considered me. “You really want to do this?”
“Take me there,” I said, trying to sound more confident than I felt.
Landon turned and nudged a man who was sitting beside him—a man I hadn’t noticed until now because he moved about as much as a statue. The man was big, even compared to Landon, who was already taller than average. He had a proud nose that gave him a vaguely hawk-like appearance. His hair was black, and his skin was somewhat pale. I thought he had the look of a tortured artist type on steroids—like a young Leonardo DiCaprio mixed with Adam Driver.
“What?” asked the man in a frighteningly deep voice.
“I’m taking this one to The Red Room. Keep an eye on things for me, will you?”
The man looked around, as if asking what Landon expected him to need to monitor.
“Just do it, James,” Landon said. “Andi,” he gestured to me, standing. “Let’s go.”
“Wainwright?” James’ face was expressionless, but something in his cold eyes seemed to twinkle.
“I don’t want to hear it,” Landon barked.
He focused his attention on me again and stuck his arm out like he wanted me to play princess and let him escort me.
“No, thanks,” I said.
Landon kept his arm out. “Either you let people think you’re mine for now, or someone will try to take you for themselves. It’s your choice.”
I almost cracked a joke, but the look on his face told me he wasn’t kidding. Grudgingly, I hooked my arm around his and let him lead me deeper into the club. I could sass him all I wanted, but the truth was I didn’t want to wind up as Captain Leatherbeard’s booty for the night. Not that following Grandpa Willy’s list with Landon, AKA Captain Stick Up His Ass, was going to be much better.
Once we left the bar area, the club turned into a labyrinth of tight hallways, dark silk-covered doorways, and confusing turns. It was only twenty seconds before I’d lost my way. I was also finding it hard to focus with the way everybody was looking at us.
At first, I thought it must’ve been my head-to-toe black clothing and lack of nipple pride. But I quickly realized it seemed like my arm around Landon’s was drawing the murmurs and stares.
“Am I missing something?” I asked.
“A lot of things. Tact, for starters. Obedience. A general sense of restraint... I could go on, if you like.”
I shot him a dry look. “I mean about why everybody is whispering when they see us.”
“You’re welcome to worry about whatever you please. It doesn’t make a difference to me.”
I distantly wondered how cocky he’d sound if I headbutted him in the balls. Then again, I guessed putting my face between his legs in any capacity should probably stay out of my plans. There was a confusing sort of energy with Landon. Sure, I found him to be very punchable. But at the same time… There was this annoying, very, very faint intrigue about him. I had questions, and I hated how badly I wanted answers to them. Why was James about as friendly as Darth Vader? Why did Grandpa Willy never tell me about Landon? Why was there a goddamn BDSM club underneath my grandpa’s hotel? And, most presently, why was everybody staring like me being on his arm was the scandal of the century?
I can worry about whatever I please, I thought, fuming. Maybe he was the one who should worry that all my violent fantasies would eventually come to life.
“Here we are,” he said, pulling back a red curtain that led to a darkened room lined with leather couches, chairs, and even tables set with plates and glasses.
“Very sexy vibe in here,” I said. “At least, if you find things like depressing, leather-clad caves sexy.”
“Do you always do that?” he asked.
“What?”
“Make jokes when you’re nervous?”
“Uh, actually, I get a sick stomach when I’m nervous. So, no. Nice try, though.” As if my stomach was playing for the wrong team, it made a keening, whimpering kind of sound that seemed too loud to be true. I smiled weakly. “Coincidence,” I said. “I had the shrimp for dinner, and I thought it looked a little off. So...”
Landon looked down at me, as if in disbelief, and then led me by the arm to the back of the r
oom. We sat down on a long couch in the corner that circled a glossy, black table.
I looked around and raised my eyebrows. “So, The Red Room. Why do they call it that? Is all the food red, or something? No white wine? Or maybe you can only order undercooked steaks.”
Landon drew my attention to the door. “The red curtain.”
“Oh,” I said, deflating. “I was kind of hoping Grandpa Willy was more creative than that.”
“There are different types of rooms at The Golden Pecker. Private rooms. Public rooms. Passive rooms. Active rooms.”
I quirked an eyebrow. “Why did you say ‘active’ all whispery like that?”
“Because I don’t think we need to show you the active rooms.”
“Because why?”
“It’s not on the list, for starters. And I doubt you’ll ever be ready to step inside an active room.”
“Sorry,” I said. “But you keep talking like you know the first thing about me. I’m not some blushing virgin. I’ve totally done it before. I’ve even watched porn. So, the idea of somebody getting their hands tied up or spanked with a paddle isn’t going to scandalize me into running out of the room screaming.”
Landon flashed a rare grin. “You’ve done it, have you?”
I bit back frustration at my choice of words. “I’ve had sex,” I said flatly. “I’ve banged. I even fucked, once. It was all wild, crazy, and wonderful, thankyouverymuch.” Truth be told, there was nothing wild, crazy, or wonderful about the sex I’d put on my resume, but Landon didn’t need to know that. He definitely didn’t need to know that I’d done the deed exactly two times with exactly two partners. The first had been with the man I will forever remember as Speedy McCummins, the potential world record holder for fastest ejaculator on Earth. I could put it this way: if there was a Wild West style shootout where the fastest cummer came out on top, Old Speedy would’ve knocked them all dead—and he’d have done it with semen in his pants. He also would’ve been on the bottom, because he had a bad back and couldn’t get on top.
My second partner was so bland he hadn’t even earned a nickname. I guess if I had to pick something, I could’ve called him The Little Engine That Could. Emphasis on little. He tried and tried, but the only move in his arsenal was to get sweatier and try harder. I found myself faking an orgasm as a mercy act, after which, he promptly collapsed.
But hey, I really had watched a porno or two, so I wasn’t a total liar. And I’d added the coctopus to my reading arsenal, which had to count for something.
“I didn’t realize I was dealing with an expert,” Landon said. “I apologize. I won’t bother explaining what’s about to happen then.”
I nodded, even though I felt a little pang of fear. What was about to happen that I’d need an explanation to prepare for?
As if in response, the lights dimmed, and a very peculiar group of people walked on stage.
4
Landon
A topless man in a full mask and leather pants stepped out on the stage. He pulled open a control panel, pressed a button, and waited while a glass screen rose to cut the stage off from the rest of the room. Moments later, blue-lit smoke started to puff out from machines just behind the curtains. Once a haze had fallen over the stage, a table was wheeled out and cranked into an upright position so we could all see the harnesses and straps dangling where the head, hands, hips, and feet would go.
Two more men led a completely nude woman out to the stage, pushing wisps of the blue smoke in their wake as they walked.
I discreetly stole a glance at Andi, who was watching the stage with wide eyes and a tight grip on her legs. I grinned to myself. Didn’t cover this in your pornos, did they? She looked so deliciously innocent as she sat there. My eyes couldn’t help falling to her legs. I chewed my lip, drinking in the hints of her body I could find beneath the conservative clothing.
I thought about my father setting this whole charade up. It pissed me off. I wondered for the first time if he thought his pretend granddaughter was somehow best suited to make a fool of me. Maybe he knew she’d turn down my advances or think she was too good for me.
Well, old man, if that was your plan, you miscalculated.
I let my legs open up wider so that her knee was against my thigh. She twitched, but didn’t try to move her leg away. As pathetic as it was, the unspoken permission made a rush of excitement run through me. It was like finding a cracked door in a house that was supposed to be full of locked rooms.
I considered pushing my luck for more, but decided this would all be far more enjoyable if I let it play out slowly. I wanted her dreams to be filled with dark desires. With me.
The two men retreated back into the darkness, leaving the woman in front of the table. The masked man approached, and the overhead lighting made each muscle on his body stand out in stark contrast.
He took the woman and methodically tied her to the table. I knew the performers, so I happened to know the masked man was Matt. He was as professional as doms came, and he was careful to secure Crystal to her spot on the table only as tight as he needed. Doms at our club were held to strict standards when they were with their submissives, and we didn’t tolerate bruising or cuts.
Every tug of the straps made her large breasts jiggle, and the fact that I was sitting beside Andi while this show was being set up sent an unexpected pulse of excitement through me. I wondered if the thrill I felt was only because I enjoyed giving one last middle finger to William—after all, this was all his idea. Any heartbreak she might come to at my hands would be of his doing.
Then again, I felt a spark with Andi. It wasn’t the usual kind of spark, like a dim light in the distance. I felt more awake and alive around her, but I still hadn’t figured out if it was because of her, or if it was because she was so closely tied William . It was enough to make me wonder what I actually cared about. Was I making her do this to screw my old man, or was I just chasing the spark?
Whatever my motivations might be, The Red Room was just an appetizer, and if she kept her nerve, the main courses were going to mean she and I would be spending some time together. I didn’t expect that thought to make my dick twitch, but I guess I shouldn’t have been shocked. Andi was beautiful, after all. She was also the kind of beautiful that seemed to knock my guard down. It wasn’t the magazine-perfect type of beauty, either. She didn’t have massive, pouting lips and breasts that challenged gravity.
She was real, like she’d somehow managed to thread her way through life in New York City without letting it touch her. I couldn’t decide if that was impressive, or if it was a testament to how stubborn and obstinate, she was. I guess it was both.
“What do you think?” I said.
“I’m just wondering if being a nude stage performer in a seedy BDSM club gets you full benefits.”
“Why? Thinking about a career change?”
She wiggled her eyebrows. “You wish.”
I looked back to the stage. Andi was unbelievable.
Despite her bravado, I could feel how tense Andi was beside me, especially when the performance began in earnest. There was a kind of brutality to watching this sort of show. Life is all about restraint and composure and shame. It’s about learning how to hide your desires.
Down here, nobody hid. Crystal bit her lip and watched with half-lidded eyes while the doms set to work on her, running hard, confident hands across her body. She opened her legs for them when they produced a whip and she gasped when they slid the handle inside her.
Andi flinched beside me. I discreetly watched her, noting the way her chest was rising and falling rapidly. After a few moments, I even found a vein on her neck and could see the quick, pulsing pattern of her heartbeat. She was even unconsciously pressing her thighs together.
I grinned to myself. She was aroused. Hell, so was I. Except my excitement had nothing to do with what was happening on stage.
I could’ve put together a very compelling list of good reasons to keep an emotional and physical dis
tance from Andi. Yet none of that seemed to temper the way my thoughts were running in wild, dark directions—filling me with ideas of the things I’d like to do to her.
Half an hour later, Crystal was done moaning on stage and the performers had left.
Some of the crowd had taken advantage of the dim lighting in the seating area to enjoy their partners. One man on the opposite end of the room appeared to be enjoying three women at once, and another was dragging the woman he was with out of the room, probably toward a private area.
Andi turned toward me and gave a little shrug when the performers left the stage. “Meh. That wasn’t so bad.”
I licked my teeth, then chuckled. “Alright. I’ll admit you handled that better than expected.”
Andi gave me a wide-eyed, innocent look. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“I figured you’d make an excuse, run out of here, or maybe even slap me when you saw what was going to happen.”
“Oh. I mean, as soon as I saw the shape of the handle of that whip, I was like, ‘that’s totally going in her ass.’ So, it actually was less dirty than I imagined. Come on, right? Whip in the old coocher? That’s hardly a scandal.” Her eyes flicked across my face, then she flashed a crooked smile. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re smiling. Or maybe you’re constipated… Did you have the shrimp, too?”
“The first one,” I said. “And you know, it’s almost creepy how much you remind me of your grandfather.” She really did, even though there wasn’t a drop of blood relating the two of them.
“Like… physically speaking? Or do you mean my personality.”
My eyes fell to her chest and the lean shape of her body, which was clad in her aggressively conservative outfit. For what felt like the tenth time that night, I imagined how good it would feel to peel her out of it, layer by layer. “Your personality.”
“Anyway,” Andi started, “I’m up way past my bedtime. So, as fun as this has been, I’m going to just head back up to an empty room and call it a night.” She stood and bobbed off in the completely wrong direction.
The Golden Pecker Page 3
