Chapter 14

AS THEY CLIMBED THE narrow stairs side by side, Piper asked herself for the millionth time what the heck she was doing. She could be on her way home to watch a sappy romance while binging on the tub of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream she had in her freezer. With the raspberry truffle long gone, she’d replenished her supply to act as an antidote to Tristan’s faucet-like hot-and-cold treatment. When he showed both to her tonight, passionately angry and protective, and, at the same time, aggressively trying to carve her out of his life, she’d had the chance to walk away. He’d even given her a final nudge. Red was such a small word, tripping lightly off the tongue. Yet, when the time came, it was as heavy as lead, silencing her completely.

He hadn’t had a change of heart. She understood that plainly. The sample he offered was to achieve his goal of scaring her off. She was a fool about many things regarding Tristan Rogers, but when she took his hand and entered the dungeon, she was clear-eyed about his motive. Asking about other clubs was a fleeting curiosity. No way would she have the nerve to go to one of the meat markets Samson and Josie described. And, without Tristan, she didn’t have the desire. Everything she’d seen thus far, from the scary wheel to the orgasm machines to the leather-clad women walking half-naked men around on leashes, had been titillating, but she could and would have walked away if it wasn’t for the one man she wanted who was doing his damnedest not to want her.

Breathing in didn’t settle her nerves. It only made things worse because she could smell his spicy scent made more potent by his body heat, which radiated off him as they climbed. Every touch, whether the casual graze of his arm or his hand on her back, guiding her, sent delightful shivers down her spine. Piper stifled a sigh. She’d never been this attracted to anyone before, especially someone who was a walking red flag. Why, amid the hundreds of club members and the raw sensuality surrounding her, was it Tristan who ignited her passion?

At the top of the stairs, they came to a long, crowded hallway. People gathered at the railing on the right, taking in the bird’s-eye view of the playroom below them. On the left, at least a dozen doors stretched down the length of the hall. Large picture windows separated them, with people at the glass peeking in. It reminded her of the upper level of a mall, where you could stroll, window-shop, and enjoy the view, except the shoppers here were wearing a lot less clothing.

Several doors were closed, with red lights glowing above each one. Tristan guided her to the first room with a green light. As she peered inside, she was surprised to find a schoolroom that bore a striking resemblance to her old social studies classroom from high school. There was a wall-mounted blackboard and a teacher’s desk up front, with four smaller desks facing it. Despite the outdated chalkboard, the attention to detail throughout the rest of the room was impressive, with a globe in the corner, shelves overflowing with books, a bulletin board brimming with newspaper clippings, and colorful maps and posters decorating the walls.

Beside her, Tristan commented, “It’s rare that the classroom is available. Teacher/student role play is quite popular. Would you like your introduction here?”

She glanced down the hall at the remaining rooms. “Could we explore further?”

“Certainly.”

When Piper stopped at the next open doorway, she immediately froze. The faux stone walls with flickering sconces were nearly identical to her fantasy dungeon. What made it different was the torture equipment straight out of the Dark Ages. Not even her mind was that twisted.

There was a rustic wood table with metal shackles and a kneeling bench that looked like it came from a church confessional. Nearby, a set of stocks awaited its next victim. Whips, paddles, and an assortment of scary-looking metal tools hung from hooks on one wall, their purpose she dared not imagine. What truly commanded attention, though, was the eight-foot cross in the corner, bathed in a crimson spotlight, and adorned with more restraints and straps than she could count.

“Let me guess,” she uttered while taking it all in. “The Spanish inquisitors are on their lunch break?”

Tristan made a weird noise, a mix between a grunt and a snort, like stifled laughter. Caught off guard, since she had never heard him laugh before, she tilted her head back and looked up at him. His usual reserved expression remained unchanged. Humor didn’t seem to be his forte. And how sad was that?

“This is the mini-dungeon,” he informed her. “Except for the period tools, which aren’t for use other than shock value, everything is also available downstairs.”

“Why replicate it?”

“A thoroughly conducted inquisition often needs time and space, both of which are limited downstairs.” He inclined his head toward the room. “Would you like to take a closer look?”

“Yes,” she replied confidently, causing his eyebrows to shoot up in surprise. “At the other rooms,” she added with a slight smile, walking past the window toward the next open door.

When she looked inside, her breath caught in her throat at the sheer opulence that greeted her. From the grand, satin-draped four-poster bed to the stacks of vibrant jewel-toned pillows and the shimmering fabric adorning the walls, every detail exuded luxury and splendor.

“Now we’re talking,” she said, grinning.

“I’ve heard similar comments from just about every club member,” Tristan murmured from behind her. “Which is why the Sultan’s Chamber always has a waiting list.”

“Which took almost two months. If you’ll excuse us.”

An older dom and his beaming submissive entered when she and Tristan stepped aside. Then the door closed, the red light blinked on, and the blinds snapped shut in short order.

“That leaves us peons to proceed,” Tristan drawled.

Did Master Grump, the man who rarely smiled, just make a joke? If it was an unexpected moment of levity, it came and went in a flash because, when she glanced his way, he’d already started toward the next door.

“Are you coming?” he called.

Piper hurried and caught up with him at the window. This room had hardwood floors and a web of ropes hung from the ceiling. A floor-to-ceiling wooden pole stood in the center, while behind it, the black walls shimmered with white dots resembling stars in a night sky. The space was lit by a radiant full moon. It wasn’t until she noticed the wooden railing encircling the room, the colorful parrot painted so it looked perched on top of it, and the skull and crossbones on the black-and-white flag in the corner, that Piper realized it was a pirate ship.

“What game is this? Blackbeard and the Stolen Maiden?”

“Or any other swashbuckling privateer. The conquered captive is a popular fantasy.”

Ducking beneath the web of ropes, Tristan sauntered to a closet that blended seamlessly with the mural on the wall. When he turned to her, he held an 18th-century ball gown in one hand, a bit tattered and the bodice slightly ripped, but that was undoubtedly intentional. In the opposite hand, a black eye patch dangled from one finger.

“We’ve found that props and costumes help the players get into character. There’s plenty of rope for dealing with an uncooperative prisoner. If that doesn’t encourage proper behavior, there’s always the cat.”

“The cat?” she echoed.

“Short for cat-o’-nine-tails, a nasty whip commonly used back in the day, something no pirate ship can be without. And the mast is perfect for a flogging.”

“What? No plank?” she quipped.

“No room,” he replied without missing a beat. “Besides, if the maiden is sacrificed to the sea, the game is over, and where’s the fun in that?”

An image took shape in her mind. Of Tristan in a flowing white shirt, unbuttoned to reveal his powerful chest, and a patch covering one eye. No hat concealed his smooth head, and a rakish grin curved his full lips as he bound her to the mast facing outward. She wore the ball gown, her breasts close to spilling out of the ripped extremely low neckline.

Again, they’d thought of every detail. She could easily get caught up in a swashbuckling fantasy starring Tristan as the sexy, dominant buccaneer pirate.

“Do we stay here for your taste or continue on?” he asked. “It is unusual, but I saw two other green lights on down the hall.”

Each room seemed to get better, and her curiosity drove her decision. “I’d like to see more, please, sir.”

“You are the guest, and, since you answered so politely, how can I say no?”

He returned the costumes to the closet then steered her farther down the crowded hallway. A few of the occupied rooms they passed had their doors shut, but the blinds were open, inviting observers. The bodies crowded in front of the windows made it difficult for her to see what was happening inside. She could hear leather creaking, the whoosh and crack of something hitting bare skin, as well as moans and passionate cries, which gave her a fairly good idea.

Piper picked up on a familiar scent she couldn’t quite place as they stopped before another room. Stone pillars lined the walls, flickering torches in between, and a red light in the center of the ceiling bathed the linen-draped altar beneath it.

“This is the Forbidden Temple. It’s one of our newest additions.”

“It’s very...um...realistic. All the rooms are.”

“Eric believes in living up to our name.”

The scent filling the air tickled Piper’s nose. “Is that patchouli and cinnamon I smell?”

“Your nose is better than mine. All I know is that it’s incense.” Standing so close, she could feel the warmth of his breath gently rustling her hair, a sensation that sent shivers down her spine. “Imagine yourself laid out naked on the altar as part of an ancient ritual or as a sacrifice to your master.”

Piper’s pulse pounded in her ears, drawn to the forbidden, but a sense of irreverence washed over her. “What kind of sacrifice?”

“That’s up to the master. No blood, if that’s what you were thinking.”

“People actually do that?”

“You’d be amazed by what some people do. But we don’t allow extreme play at Decadence.”

“Good to know,” she whispered.

He glanced down the hall. “We’re almost at the end. There is only one open door left. You need to choose.”

“I’ll take what’s behind the last door.”

“As you wish, but room twelve is where your tour becomes interactive. Unless what you’ve seen so far has changed your mind.”

She would have accused him of showing her the worst, but he didn’t pick and choose. They’d stopped at all the open rooms, and he’d always given her a choice. What if the last stop was the worst of the worst?

Forcing a smile, she shrugged. “I haven’t changed my mind. Besides, I was born on the 12th. I’ve always considered it my lucky number.”

“You’ll have to let me know at the end of the night if your luck held true.”

This time, he took her by the hand and threaded them through the sea of people. Good thing. Tristan was tall enough to see over them; she’d have gotten quite lost. She only had to follow, which she didn’t mind doing in the least.

Unlike the other rooms, the last room was awash with bright light. She had to squint to allow her eyes to adjust after the darkness of the hall. Then she almost wished they hadn’t. After a medieval dungeon, pirate ship, sultan’s bedchamber, classroom, and coming close to being laid out on a sacrificial altar, she couldn’t imagine what fantasy was left. She never dreamed, when her vision cleared, she’d be standing in front of a prison cell.

Stunned, she stared up at Tristan.

“Have you figured out the common theme? Every fantasy we’ve helped to create, whether opulent or innocent or dark, involves a power imbalance: teacher/student, pirate/captive, and warden/ prisoner. There is one difference, however. In our world, the true power lies in consent. If you give it, you can also take it away. Do you know how?”

She licked lips suddenly gone dry before answering. “It was in the reams of paperwork I was required to fill out in advance.”

“Tell me, so there’s no misunderstanding,” he insisted.

“The club safeword is red. If I say it, I take my power back.”

“Wrong. In this safe play space, you’re free to explore the depths of your desires and surrender to your most primal urges. But it’s always your choice. If you say red, you’re rescinding your consent, and everything stops immediately.”

With all the rules that seemed skewed toward the dominants, like the lofty titles, no shoes in the playroom, escorts required, and restraints everywhere, it hadn’t occurred to her that the submissive was the one who held the power. Knowing that as an owner and her dom for the evening felt so strongly about consent was reassuring.

“So, tell me, small-town preacher’s daughter, do you consent to a small taste of pain, pleasure, and submission?”

As they stood facing each other, their eyes locked in a heated gaze, and Piper didn’t dither over her answer. This was what she’d yearned for. Not just the club, the kink, and the thrill of the taboo. She wanted all of it, but more so, she wanted it with Tristan.

If someone else had brought her to a prison cell for a taste of BDSM with the same carnal look in his eyes, she’d have run screaming for the door. But she trusted him. Even though he could be a jerk, she’d seen glimmers of the man she’d always dreamed she’d be with someday. A strong, confident, take-charge, sexy AF hero who cared more for those around him than himself. Most folks wouldn’t give two cents if their neighbor was receiving threatening letters, but he’d stepped up without being asked.

She suspected the glimmers were Tristan’s true self that he hid behind the hard, standoffish exterior, protecting him from something in his past. Piper would give anything to know what it was. In fact, she now had a new mission. Not only to see him smile, and perhaps laugh, but to help him break free of whatever it was.

“Your answer, Piper?” he prompted.

“It’s yes, sir. I’d like a taste.”

The creak of hinges echoed through the small room when he opened the cell door. “Inside then, brave girl.”

Piper’s heart raced as she nodded, her body trembling with excitement but also anxiety—more specifically, fear of the unknown—as she walked inside the 8x8 metal cage. She reached out to touch the bars to prove they were real, that all of this wasn’t just fantasy, but she jumped and pulled back her hand at the sudden loud clang of the door swinging shut. Alarmed, she spun right into Tristan’s arms.

“My prisoner is on edge,” he observed. “But you have nothing to fear from me—if you’re cooperative.”

His finger glided along her cheek, the gentle touch foreign compared to the cold metal bars and the austere surroundings.

“Look at me, Piper.”

When her gaze met his, the expression on his handsome face reflected the tenderness of his touch. At that moment, she caught another glimmer of what she believed was the true Tristan.

“A bit of edginess is good during a scene, but it shouldn’t escalate to fear or panic. Is this too much for you?”

She paused briefly to take stock of her feelings, to be certain, before answering. “I was told you have a thousand club members. I want to understand why they yearn for this so intensely they’re willing to pay an exorbitant price to get it.”

The white tan lines fanning out from his eyes crinkled, hinting at a potential smile. “If that’s a no, I’ll need you to say the word.”.

“I’m edgy, but not panicked, sir. It’s a no.”

“If that changes, use your safeword. Tonight, you can also say stop, and I will.”

“Thank you,” she said, relieved.

“Sometimes we have to take baby steps with nervous newbies.” His lips twitched, and she again hoped to see his elusive smile—she knew he had one buried in there somewhere—but it never materialized.

“I thought you were trying to scare me off.”

“No. Just opening your eyes to see things clearly. Look up,” he directed.

When she did, she saw chains dangling from the bars above her, cuffs attached to the ends. His fingers encircled her wrist, and he raised her arm over her head and buckled on the first cuff.

She swallowed. Here we go.

Once he secured the other wrist, he moved to the cot. It opened to reveal a small storage space with implements. His broad back and shoulders concealed what he removed.

Standing in front of her again, he held up a strip of black cloth. When he moved behind her, he tied it around her head, blindfolding her.

“How am I to see things clearly if I can’t see, sir?”

“It’s a euphemism, Piper. Often the eyes can deceive, and your other senses paint a better picture.”

Something soft brushed her cheek, and she imagined it was his finger once more. She couldn’t be sure because when she leaned into the touch, it disappeared. The scuff of his shoes echoed loudly as he moved away.

She’d consented, willingly prepared to surrender herself to him. But each second that ticked by added to her anxiety. Seriously, what had she been thinking when she agreed to this?

Piper felt the heat of his body against her back an instant before his fingers curled around her hips. “Relax and breathe,” he ordered softly. “Passing out will end the session before you gain the knowledge you seek.”

His hands glided slowly over her belly then traveled upward to cup her breasts. She gasped and rose on her toes when his fingers lightly pinched and rolled the stiff peaks, wondering how she was supposed to breathe when his hands were on her.

When one glided down her body and back up, his fingers slipped beneath her skirt, the rough texture of his skin now against hers. His hands continued upward, teasing her nipples. One through butter soft leather and one on bare flesh, arousing her further. The hardness of his body and his blatant desire pressed against her back and bottom as his lips glided up the side of her neck. His teeth caught her earlobe, tugging ever so briefly. “You’re doing well, little newbie. How about we step it up a notch?”

“Yes, please, sir.”

In what seemed like an instant, he stood in front of her, his long frame pressed against her chest to knees. When he ordered, “Part your lips for me,” she obeyed, wanting his mouth on hers. The desire spiraling through her body intensified when he kissed her, even more so when his tongue boldly swept inside.

Piper could barely process the fact she was handcuffed in a cell in a sex club, pressed against Tristan with his tongue in her mouth. She would have pinched herself to make sure she wasn’t dreaming, but she couldn’t reach.

His hands slid down her back over her satin-covered backside to her bare thighs before they reversed course, raising her hem as they moved upward to palm her cheeks.

“You’re beautiful. Your skin is like silk, and your ass practically begs for my touch.” He squeezed, lifting her onto her toes and she moaned softly into his mouth.

The chains overhead rattled as, forgetting she was cuffed, she reached for him. Being restrained and subject to his will was simultaneously arousing and frustrating. If her hands were free, they’d be all over him.

Tristan’s fingers lightly traced the edge of her panties. “Covering such an ass is a crime,” he declared as, with a firm tug, he pulled them upward.

Piper sucked in a breath as the material wedged between her cheeks and pulled tight in front, over her clit.

“I’m looking forward to seeing how you respond to my flogger. The expression on your lovely face with your first taste, the rise of color in your cheeks—both sets—and the sounds that come from your plump pink lips. But to truly appreciate the leather, there mustn’t be any barriers between it and your skin.”

He watched her carefully, waiting five seconds—she knew because she counted the pulse beats thumping in her ears. When she said nothing, her body humming in anticipation, his fingers flexed on her flesh once more before releasing her.

Without his intimidating, overwhelming presence, she had a chance to breathe. But not for long. A swishing noise followed by a loud thwap sent a jolt of alarm through her body. The chains clanked, but she felt nothing. Piper’s head moved from side to side, as if she might find him despite the blackness covering her eyes.

“That was against my hand. A warm-up stroke,” he explained softly. “Is there anything you’d like to say before we begin?”

The three-letter word that would end everything weighed heavily on her tongue. But she was an instant away from experiencing what Narissa had, and she desperately wanted to know what it was like.

“No, sir,” she replied breathlessly.

“Very well.”

Before his words faded, she heard another swish, and the tails swept over her bottom. It was anticlimactic, and definitely disappointing because she barely felt a thing.

With a grunt of annoyance, Tristan tucked her hem into the waistband of her panties.

The next stroke struck leather to skin.

“Much better, don’t you think?”

If he expected an answer, he didn’t get one as another stroke followed, and another, each with slightly more intensity. They robbed her of breath, leaving her speechless, her mind racing as her senses came alive. Piper curled her fingers around the chains, hanging on. She welcomed the bite of metal into her skin, which kept her from losing herself completely to the sensual heat and rhythm of his lash.

“Your skin has turned the same pretty pink shade as your lips. But you can take more, can’t you?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“A lovely sound, but I require words, Piper.”

“I can take more, sir,” she said, in a husky, seductive voice she barely recognized.

“Good girl.”

Briefly, she wondered why his praise made her warm and tingly inside and out. Then a louder thwap followed the next whoosh , and the fleeting thought vanished like vapor as Tristan’s expertly measured stroke, with just a smidgeon more sting, sent waves of pleasure rippling through her. More landed. At least a half dozen of equal intensity, and the desire he stoked burned more fiercely.

She thought she heard him utter, “Fuck me,” but couldn’t be sure because of the moan that came unbidden from her lips.

Piper arched her back, presenting her bottom prominently, asking without words for more as her body vibrated, her nipples tightened, almost painfully so, and wetness flooded the needy, achy place between her thighs. Unbelievably, she was on the verge of coming without him even once touching her pussy.

The suede strands continued to fall across both cheeks, the lower curve where her ass and thighs met, and a few even lower. Over the pounding in her ears, she could hear his accelerated breathing, as if he was feeding off her reaction.

Her body writhed and swayed, dancing on the precipice of ecstasy. Only a few more strokes, and she would shatter.

Chimes sounded. They weren’t harsh or blaring but broke the spell Tristan had spun around them. The rhythmic rise and fall of the flogger faltered and then stopped.

“No! Please keep going.”

“The chimes signal closing time,” he informed her, his impatience audible. “The DMs don’t waste time. They’ll be by to roust stragglers any minute.”

Her head fell back, and she sobbed in frustration, tantalizingly close to release, one that she was certain would be more incredible than she’d ever experienced before.

“I...understand, sir,” she whispered brokenly.

Something clattered to the floor then Tristan’s arms encircled her body. One hand rose to her breast, curved beneath it, and his thumb swept over her aching nipple. The other flattened on her stomach and slid downward inside her panties and between her legs. A finger dipped into her drenched folds and easily found her pleasure point. With his mouth open on the side of her neck, it took only a few subtle movements, rubbing her clit and rolling her nipple, to send her soaring.

As she shuddered and cried out with her orgasm, he held her, cupping her pussy with one hand and a breast with the other. Tristan, more than the chains and cuffs, supported her, the roughness of his clothing rubbing her sensitized bottom, which only prolonged the shivers and shudders.

When they subsided, his lips brushed her neck and jaw. Then he released the cuffs one-handed, keeping a supporting arm around her waist. A good thing, too, because her knees were as solid as cooked noodles.

Tristan adjusted her panties and smoothed down her skirt then tied the open laces of her vest. Finally, he untied the blindfold, and Piper had to squint against the sudden brightness of the overhead lights.

There came a knock on the door almost at the same time it was thrown wide. “It’s 2 a.m. Closing time. No exceptions.”

Piper glanced up at him, surprised for two reasons. He’d predicted this would happen and that the hours had flown by since she’d arrived.

“What did I tell you?” Still holding her upright, Tristan handed her a bottle of water from somewhere. “Sip this slowly.”

Surprisingly thirsty, she did as she was told, mostly. When she lowered the half-empty bottle, their eyes locked. Her body was still humming with excitement from her first flogging, but also with the lassitude of having just come. Tristan couldn’t say the same because he hadn’t.

“Can you walk, or do you need to be carried?”

Being swept up in his arms like in an epic romance would be fantastic, here in private, but not so much through the club. She shook her head. “I can walk, sir. But this sudden halt and exit hardly seems fair.”

She left the “to you” unspoken, but he understood.

“Never mind that. I’m used to it. Drink your water,” he reminded her.

She took another sip, watching as he righted the room and dropped the flogger into a basket outside the bars labeled “used.” Was self-denial a kink she wasn’t aware of? It was a Google search in her future because she wasn’t about to ask.

Tristan led her out of the cell and into the darkened hallway where others were filing out, some appearing irritated, others seeming resigned to the time limit, and still others looking completely content, moving arm in arm toward the stairs. A quick peek over the railing revealed the playroom was emptying, too.

There was a line to retrieve her shoes then they entered the lounge where Josie was waiting, Axyl hovering close by.

“I’m ready to go,” her friend announced abruptly.

“Piper cannot drive,” Tristan stated firmly.

Josie frowned as her eyes searched her face, which she knew was flushed. “Why? What little alcohol we had was hours ago.”

“She hasn’t recovered from the playroom,” Axyl said pointedly.

“Oh?” Then understanding dawned, and she repeated, “Oh...”

“I’ll take the two of you home,” he offered.

With a determined tip of her chin, Josie countered, “I took an Uber here. I’m fine to drive us home in Piper’s car.” She surprised everyone by adding in a mutter, “Heaven knows I’m not suffering the lingering effects of anything.”

The comment earned a quelling glance from Axyl. The tension emanating from the couple was palpable. Something had happened between them, and it wasn’t remotely close to what she and Tristan had shared.

Impatient, Josie asked, “Are you ready?”

“I need a moment,” Tristan told her in no uncertain terms and pulled Piper aside. “Finish all of your water and get some sleep. If you feel hungover in the morning, drink more water and have a solid breakfast with some protein. Chocolate milk or cocoa will help. If it doesn’t, call me.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Sometimes there is a letdown after a scene. I don’t think it will happen this time, but I want you to be aware. I’ll call and check on you tomorrow.”

“Or you could come over for breakfast,” she suggested.

“I have to work.” His brusque reply was back to being gruff.

Had she done something wrong? “Is everything okay?”

“It’s late,” he said, not really answering her question. “You and Josie should get going.”

Her friend was already making her way to the door, moving swiftly despite her short legs. Piper had to hurry to catch up. As they reached the door leading to the lobby, Piper stole a quick glance back at Tristan. He had his back turned to her as he conversed with Axyl.

His cool dismissal hurt. The intimate moment that had left her in a state of euphoria clearly didn’t hold the same significance for him, if it meant anything at all. Determined to escape before her emotions overwhelmed her, Piper broke into a run as soon as she stepped outside.

“What’s the rush?” Josie asked when she ran past her then more loudly, since Piper was leaving her behind. “Hey. Wait for me.”

DETERMINED NOT TO WATCH her go, Tristan stood in front of Axyl, his back to the door. “Walk them to their car.”

Axyl’s eyes flicked to the door, and his frown deepened. “No thanks. I’ve suffered enough hits to my ego tonight. Besides, security is out in force at closing time.”

“It didn’t go well with Josie?”

“That’s putting it mildly, but I’d rather not talk about it. What about you and Piper, Warden? I hear they had to roust you out of the prison cell.”

Tristan sat down hard in a chair, leaned back, and closed his eyes. “I’m not in the talking mood either.”

“The lifestyle isn’t for them.” With a shrug, Axyl stretched out in the chair across from him. “That’s why we have these open nights so the kink-curious can explore. It’s better we found out now than later.”

Tristan groaned and rubbed his face. “What if you find out something you don’t want to know?”

“Like what?”

“That she’s a natural.”

“Piper? But isn’t that a good thing? I could see the electricity sparking between you.”

“I don’t want electricity,” he suddenly bit out, his calm evaporated. “I want to go to work and come home at the end of the day—alone. The same as when I play—no attachments.”

“That sounds like a lonely life, my man.”

“Better lonely than—” He stopped short before he puked out his whole pathetic story in the middle of the Decadence lounge. Tristan shot to his feet. “Never mind.”

Axyl looked up at him with concern. “You should stay and unwind. We could have a drink. I’ve got a good ear if you need one.”

“I need sleep. I’m going upstairs to get some.”

“Good luck with that, pal, considering your disposition.”

“If you’re my pal, do me a favor and make sure they get to their fucking car.”

“All right. I’m going,” the younger man said, pushing to his feet as if he were sixty instead of half that age. “But there’s a DM or Rossi man, who is most often one and the same, stationed every fifty yards from here to the parking garage. Sheesh.”

More agitated than he’d been in a long while, with a raging hard-on, Tristan slammed out of the rear door and jogged up the stairs to his third-floor apartment. The exertion relieved neither affliction, nor did a cold shower or washing her scent from his fingers.

An hour later, Tristan lay in bed, staring at the ceiling when his phone alerted. He rolled over and read Axyl’s text.

I checked the security cameras. Piper’s car is in its space outside her condo. Get some sleep and some counseling. No joke, man. Whatever it is, you’re too young to live your life alone.

With a seriously annoyed grunt, he dropped his phone on the nightstand without messaging him back.

“Thanks, Axyl,” he muttered. “But at three o’fucking clock in the morning, I don’t need your unsolicited advice.”

He went back to staring at the ceiling. It was the perfect blank canvas for him to replay the scene with Piper, which now looped on repeat in his head. He’d give his left testicle to have her in his bed, in his arms, with him wrapped around her. But she was a threat to the solitary life he preferred. She’d already worked her way under his skin. Next would be into his heart. He couldn’t allow that to happen.

She wanted a forever love, a life with laughter and joy, all of which she deserved. None of which he had to offer. He had to put distance between them so she could get it from someone who could.