Total pages in book: 43
Estimated words: 40189 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 201(@200wpm)___ 161(@250wpm)___ 134(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 40189 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 201(@200wpm)___ 161(@250wpm)___ 134(@300wpm)
Instead, I found a job. I make bank running security around here. Everyone plays by my rules, or they don't play. I decide who gets in and who doesn't. I decide who gets tossed the fuck out and when they're banned. Roman Sterling respects my decisions because he knows I know what the fuck I'm talking about.
In the time I've been here, I can't count the number of women who have walked through these doors looking for a little excitement. I've never once arbitrarily refused to allow one inside. I've never fucking cared who touched them or what they did with anyone inside. Not one of them ever interested me enough to care.
Not until tonight. Not until her.
I'm ready to crawl out of my skin just to get a taste of her.
And she's the absolute last person who belongs in a place like this. She drips innocence like perfume. Even in her strapless little black dress and those fuck-me heels, she looks more like she belongs in a tiara than in a BDSM club. That heart-shaped face and those bright green eyes are far too angelic. There isn't a cynical, jaded bone in her body. She's sweet and pure all the way through, like fucking sunshine and fresh air.
Every Daddy Dom here will want a chance to get their collar on her. Too fucking bad for them. She's not on the market. She's mine. Whatever she's looking for here, I'll give her. End of discussion.
"Well?" She taps her foot, eager and impatient. "Are we going to go in or stand here all night, Bronx?"
I'd prefer Option C, hopping on the back of my bike and heading to my place. But fuck it. She wants to see my world. I'll show her. And she isn't leaving until she's bound to me.
I tried to warn her.
She really should have listened.
"Let's go, Dilemma," I growl, punching the code into the keypad that allows us deeper into the club.
We exit the foyer into the hallway, heading toward the bars. I spot Roman standing just inside the first bar and cut in his direction, my hand wrapped firmly around Gemma's.
"Why aren't you at the door?" Roman asks, glancing from me to Gemma and then back again. "Hi, Gemma."
"Hi, Roman."
"How the fuck do you two know each other?"
"It's Silver Spoon Falls, Bronx," Roman says. "Everyone knows everyone."
Right. Why do I bother asking stupid fucking questions?
"I need someone to fill in for me."
Roman's brow rises slightly but he doesn't otherwise react. He doesn't ask any questions, either. "I'll get someone on it."
"Thanks."
He jerks his chin in a nod.
I pull Gemma away before he changes his mind and starts asking questions I'm not willing to answer right now, like why the fuck Gemma is here or what the fuck I'm doing with her.
"Everyone is dressed," Gemma says.
"The club is divided into different areas," I explain, fighting a smile at how disappointed she sounds. "The public areas near the front are strictly for mingling and making connections. They require clothing. The clothing optional areas are toward the back."
"Oh." She glances around again, taking it all in. The bar itself is a little slow tonight. Most everyone here has already moved on to other areas of the club, leaving just a few people scattered around. "People come here to decide who they want to hook up with?"
"Sometimes." I place my hand on the small of her back, leading her out of the bar. She isn't drinking tonight. I want her head clear in here. "Sometimes, they just come to drink and hang out with other people who enjoy the lifestyle."
"Cool," she whispers.
"The kink community is closeknit."
"Really?" She smiles up at me. "I guess you have to be though, huh? People are judgy."
"Sex is an uncomfortable subject for most people," I murmur. "We're taught it should be private. We're taught we shouldn't enjoy it. We're taught it's dirty. We're taught to fear it. People don't like being confronted with things that make them uncomfortable, and people who embrace their sexuality make them uncomfortable because they live so antithetical to their own lives. We judge what we don't understand. It's human nature."
"That's a very forgiving way of looking at it," she says quietly, beaming up at me. Jesus. She's always fucking smiling. It's sexy as hell and adorable at the same time. "Most people would just say they have a stick up their butts and call it a day. But not you. I like your way of looking at it better."
"If we judge the people judging, are we any better?" I shrug. "It's easy to paint everyone with the same brush. But we've all got shit, Dilemma. We've all been through shit, and all been shaped by our own shit."
"Yeah," she whispers, her smile slipping slightly. "I guess we have."
I frown, not liking the way she almost draws in on herself. What has she been through? What wounded her? I don't know but I don't like it. I barely know her, but I already know she wasn't made for pain and sorrow. She was made to laugh and smile.