Total pages in book: 168
Estimated words: 164910 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 825(@200wpm)___ 660(@250wpm)___ 550(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 164910 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 825(@200wpm)___ 660(@250wpm)___ 550(@300wpm)
The woman cries, finally coming, and he kisses her head. Tugging her panties back up, he whispers something in her ear and then backs away.
Grabbing his coat, he walks over and tosses it on the chair across from me. An attendant approaches him with a tray of hot towels. He takes one, wiping off his hands, then his arm.
“Was it a breach of etiquette,” he asks me, “playing without my host?”
I watch him toss the cloth back onto the table, the attendant quickly clearing it away as he rolls his sleeve back down. The black fabric covers his thick forearms, and as he pulls on his jacket, I realize he almost looks like he fits in. He should have a watch on, though.
“That’s a nice suit,” I reply instead. “You look good in it.”
His gaze falters, and I rise, pulling down my vest. “First rule of actually belonging in this town,” I tell him, “anything you do is okay as long as you’re the one doing it.”
Nothing is a breach of etiquette for those who set the pace.
Caroline Coldwell strolls past, and he catches her eye.
She brushes her fingers down his arm. “You look good in clothes.”
Tossing a wink, she bites the straw of her cocktail and spins back around.
He pays her no mind, turning back to me, and I almost laugh. Fuck, he’s pathetic. Just gives it to anyone, doesn’t he?
I should’ve expected that we’d run into a few of his hookups in here.
Fixing his jacket, he jerks his chin to his right. “Jerome Watson,” he says. “Who’s the other one?”
We’re not here to have friendly conversations.
“I want to show you something,” I tell him.
Walking away, I lead him to a door, pushing it open for him.
He hesitates but walks through, and I follow, closing us in darkness again.
A long hallway stretches ahead, a few people standing at the two-way mirrors that line all of the alcoves on the other side of the wall. Holding out my hand, I invite him to go first.
Following his slow steps, I pass by Judson Stephens as he watches a woman on a table getting railed by one guy with another in her mouth. Their moans and grunts spill out of the speaker just below the mirror.
Davis Moretto jerks off in front of another mirror, his wife riding some guy’s face. I can’t see who.
Sliding my hands into my pockets, I whisper, “People who want to be watched play in these rooms.”
We brush past William Garcia. “His wife with his junior partner,” I murmur to Dallas, gesturing to the scene on the other side of the mirror.
Donovan East stands at the next one, and I take a quick glance. “His daughter’s best friend.”
She’s bent over the couch, her husband fucking her right in front of the mirror for anyone to watch them.
We slip behind Renee Stahlman, who’s watching Mr. Stahlman. “She doesn’t like to go down on her husband,” I explain to Dallas quietly. “So she lets him get it here.”
I’m sure this place suits his appetite, but I don’t like anyone in here enough to get turned on. Maybe I’d find it fun with new blood. Liv and Clay? Some of his brothers maybe?
Stopping at the final window, I see the curtains are closed, but we can hear them. I had caught sight of the shelves in the anteroom to see who was here tonight. Of course, she’s always here on a Friday when her husband is out of town.
Dallas approaches the glass, peering through the slit in the curtain as the most velvet Puerto Rican accent carries through the speaker.
“Oh, baby,” she groans.
I stand a few inches from Dallas, watching his face.
His mouth falls, his brow pinches, and he turns to me. “Fuck, is that…”
“Edward Cadena’s wife,” I say.
Not a man anyone wants to fuck with. My own father gives him a very wide berth. They live in Miami most of the time, but she likes the quiet here.
I spy through the curtains with Dallas. “Look closer.”
He moves his head, trying to get all angles.
Once he sees it, he quickly backs away. “Are they fucking insane?” he asks me.
This time, I laugh, because for once, I agree. His son from his first wife sits on the couch, Gabriela sucking his dick.
“And if they do it here,” I muse, “they’re doing it at home.”
Sometimes, it gets this fucked up in here, but it would be too taboo to do anywhere else. As if rules change once we walk through the doors.
I guarantee Edward Cadena doesn’t want his young wife sucking off his twenty-one-year-old son anywhere.
Dallas studies me. “Why are you showing me this?” he asks.
Backing away from the window, I straighten up. “It’s why you wanted in, I assume.” I tilt my head. “Some kind of leverage?”
Of course, Macon is too moral to tell Cadena about his son and his wife. Edward would kill her, and Macon knows that.