Chapter 3

MAC

"Want another?"

I shook the empty bottle back and forth. "Nah. Maybe later."

The bartender, who'd been working here at The Scarlet Rope for a long time, gave me a once-over. "You doing okay, man?" He raised a brow. "Sorry about the loss today, but you guys always bounce back."

I grimaced. I wasn't about to admit that I'd already forgotten about our loss tonight against the Seattle Speedhawks. "Yeah, I'm good. Just a tough loss."

Before the bartender could turn into a pseudo-therapist, I excused myself. The one good thing about this place was the level of discretion. Even though many people here knew who I was outside of the club, everyone signed an NDA. It was the one place I could be myself without worrying about anything getting leaked to the press.

I wandered from room to room, trying to find something to catch my attention. But nothing did, and I suddenly wished I'd gotten that refill. When a server with a tray of shots passed by me, I grabbed one, then another, downing them quickly.

Normally, being at The Scarlet Rope never failed to get my blood pumping. How could it not, with wall-to-wall sexy women? Everyone was here for the same reason, so it didn't take too much effort to get one—sometimes two, three, four—to come over. Hard to get wasn't one of the games people played in this type of place.

A beautiful woman wearing red lingerie and matching lipstick caught my eye. She smiled and licked her lips, her gaze dropping from my eyes down to my dick unapologetically.

Normally, that would've gotten me to go over to her.

Tonight, though—tonight, my head was all fucked up.

I meandered around the club like a pathetic, lost puppy. Snap out of it, dude! Look where you are!

I wasn't exactly sure what was going on with me. Maybe I was feeling the loss tonight harder than I'd thought. We'd been having a streak of amazing games, but tonight, we'd had our asses handed to us. Worse, I'd played one of my best games. That should make me feel better, but thinking about it only pissed me off. It felt like I'd wasted energy on a losing battle. Plus, one of the newest guys on the team—Riley Gibson—had fucking blown multiple chances to score just to show off.I couldn't stand guys who did that shit.

I forced myself to stop thinking about punching Riley in his big, stupid face. Instead, I grabbed a glass of wine off a tray and considered going to find a good watch room.

Some of the play rooms were open for anybody to view, while others only allowed select members to watch. Those members paid more, usually if they liked specific kinks or fetishes.

I personally had a thing for watching orgies. One lady's tits getting sucked by a redheaded woman while a guy in a suit fucked her from behind with his pants around his ankles. Nothing was better than watching some two-on-one action. It was even better when there were eight or ten in the room, all moans and squeals bouncing off the walls, filling the room, the slapping sound of flesh against flesh—

My dick stirred. I was about to go check out my usual watch rooms when I caught a server sidestep Handsy Paul .

Handsy Paul had gotten his nickname because he was—you fucking guessed it—handsy. Sure, this was a sex club. Touching was encouraged here, generally speaking. But Handsy Paul liked to get handsy with women who didn't want to be touched, often the staff.

Why he hadn't gotten banned yet, I didn't fucking know. Maybe he knew the owner or something. But I'd stepped in more than once when I'd seen women looking uncomfortable around him.

"Aw, come on, baby, don't be shy," Handsy Paul whined in an obnoxious singsongy voice.

The server looked like a total deer in headlights. I'd never seen her before, probably a newbie. Sometimes I wondered what the people who did the hiring here told employees to expect. From the looks of things, it didn't seem like this woman knew what she was getting herself into when she'd agreed to work here.

"I can get you something to drink—" she said, but Handsy Paul took hold of her forearm, and her tray of drinks nearly fell to the floor. I moved quickly to step in, steadying both her and the tray.

The server's eyes widened. But I wasn't done with Handsy Paul yet. I gave him a restrained shove, yet the scrawny asshole went flailing backward.

He scowled up at me, his bushy eyebrows turning into a fully formed caterpillar on his forehead. "What the fuck? You pushed me!"

"You're lucky that's all I did. This is the last time I'm telling you. Keep your hands to yourself unless you have permission to touch." I thumbed to the server. "And definitely leave this lady alone. She's not here to play with you. She's just trying to do her job."

Handsy Paul's face turned red. "And I was just helping her do her job."

The server visibly bristled. I had to stifle a smile because she looked pretty fierce right then. Despite her tiny size, she looked like a girl you didn't want to mess with.

"I'm not here for that ," the server snapped. She glanced down at her lingerie-clad self and added, "Despite how I may be dressed."

Handsy Paul seemed to consider trying another tactic. But I was over this whole fucking scene. Backing the guy up against the nearest wall, I spoke in a low voice, "If I see you harass another woman here, I'll throw you out myself. You don't want that, trust me. I'm not as nice as security. And wipe that fucking smirk from your face before I do that for you, too."

His smirk vanished. Grumbling obscenities, he pushed me away and scurried off, metaphorical tail between his legs.

The server sighed. "Thanks for the help." She took in my appearance, and asked, "Do you work here?"

I wasn't used to not being recognized. I didn't know whether to be offended or amused. Based on the woman's expression, she genuinely didn't seem to know who I was.

I glanced down at my clothes: T-shirt and track pants. "Do I look like I work here?" I asked, amused.

She let out a laugh. "Well, I didn't want to say it . . ."

"What? That I look like I live in my car?"

She giggled, and the sexy sound made my dick twitch. Maybe even more than the watch rooms did. Despite the low lights, I could tell she was gorgeous, with eyes shaped like a cat's, high cheekbones, and luscious, full lips. And that was all before my eyes dropped to the banging body below. She looked like a Victoria's Secret model in her bra and panties . I wonder if there's a set of feathered wings she could wear . . .

Man, what I would give right now to strip those bits of material off her body to see the entire package. I couldn't help but wonder what color her nipples were. Red as berries, or brown like the warm shade of her eyes?

Fuck, I'm getting hard just standing here with this woman.

"I . . . I should get back to work."

I offered a curt nod and let her go even though I wanted to find an excuse for her to stick around. She's not here to partake , I reminded myself. She was just trying to earn a paycheck.

As she walked off, she almost upended her tray a second time, this time without any reason. She clearly had zero waitressing experience. I just hoped she didn't spill those drinks on someone who'd get her fired.

I watched her from a distance as she tried to take down drink orders, but eventually I had to force myself to stop staring like a creep. I was going to turn into another Handsy Paul if I wasn't careful.

I went back to wandering around, considering if I still wanted to go to a watch room. I figured I could use a distraction from the off-limits Victoria's Secret angel, so I decided I'd view my usual one. The guy at the door let me in with nothing more than a nod.

The room was plush, though it was as dimly lit as the rest of the club. The furniture was all velvet—couches, settees, and sofas. At the back was a fully-stocked bar.

The only rule in watch rooms was that patrons weren't allowed to approach and touch the participants. If they wanted to have fun, they'd have to either book a room for others to view them or pay for a private room.

Opposite us was a two-way mirror where we could watch the scene unfold. This room was specifically for orgies, and I watched as two different women pleasured a man. A blonde sucked his cock, while a black-haired woman kissed him. They were spread out on a lush silk bed, and all kinds of accessories were scattered about the room: whips, chains, handcuffs, dildos, vibrators, butt plugs, and a couple of things I didn't think I'd ever seen used before.

The black-haired woman spread her legs wide, showing the pink of her bare pussy. I accepted a pint of beer from a server, taking in the scene and letting every other thought disappear from my mind.

The blonde sucked the guy's cock faster now. The man wrapped a clump full of her hair around his fist and pulled her head down until she choked. I felt the sound deep in my balls. When he let her up for air, she gave him an adoring gaze while saliva dripped down her chin. Meanwhile, the other woman inched in, climbing on top of his lap while the blonde moved to sit on his face. The raven-haired woman threw her head back, riding the guy's cock hard, her full breasts bouncing. And my mind wandered back to the server. She'd had black hair, albeit it had been neatly pinned high up on her head like a ballerina. What would she look like with her hair down? I could imagine it falling to her waist, how easy it would be to use as a handhold as I fucked her from behind—

I gritted my teeth. Leave her alone. There are plenty of women here for playtime. She's not one of them.

But even as I tried to separate my thoughts of the server from the scene in front of me, I couldn't. The black-haired woman let out a scream as she orgasmed, and I wondered if the server ever let herself get loud during sex. The guy grabbed a leather crop and spanked the blonde until her skin heated red, and I wondered what my handprint would look like on the server's bare ass.

I was so lost in my head, I didn't even notice that the trio had finished. They were kissing and caressing now, the man's cock starting to go soft.

I placed my empty beer down on a table and headed out, hard as a fucking rock. I was tempted to find the first woman— or women—I could and fuck them all until I got whatever this was out of my system.But despite my best intentions, I found myself looking for the pretty, black-haired server. It didn't take long for me to find her. She was behind the bar, a handful of men vying for her attention.It wasn't surprising patrons gravitated toward a newbie, even when she wasn't here to play. Couldn't say I blamed them. Something about her had hooked me from the moment I looked into her eyes.

I couldn't even say she was the most beautiful woman here. Yet something about her was captivating. Perhaps it was that she seemed strangely innocent in a literal den of iniquity. There was something so hot about that.

When I approached the group of guys drooling over her, they stepped aside without me saying a word. Everybody—except this pretty little server—knew who I was. That was a rare find.

She raised an eyebrow as the other guys scattered in opposite directions.

"Did you just get rid of all my customers?" she asked, sounding a little annoyed.

I shot her a grin, placing a nice stack of bills on the counter. "Don't worry, angel. I'll make sure you're well tipped tonight."

She snorted, but I detected a blush crawl up her cheeks.

When was the last time I saw a woman blush? I couldn't remember. The women I spent time with were never shy. They'd been around places like this for too long to ever be embarrassed. She was definitely out of her element.

Caroline had always told me that being shameless in the bedroom had given her confidence, and even calm, with the other parts of her life. I never get frazzled, she'd said more than once. What's to get frazzled over when a man whipped and pegged me only last night?

"Do you want something to drink?" the server asked, forcing me to push the memories away.

"No thanks, but I would like your name."

She wrinkled her nose, then glanced down at her bra. "I guess this getup doesn't work with a name tag."

"I think the getup is just perfect the way it is."

"My name is Elodie." She shot me a shy glance. "Now, do I get to ask you a question?"

Elodie . I rolled the sound of the name inside my head. Pretty. It suited her.

"Ask away," I replied, leaning against the bar.

"What were you doing—" She nodded toward the back of the club. "Back there?"

I stilled. You'd think in a place like this I wouldn't give a rat's ass about talking about my predilections, but it was an old habit. I'd been so used to judgment, even disgust, that I preferred to keep shit vague until I knew somebody understood. You don't necessarily talk about what you do here. You just do it.

Besides, this woman seemed like an innocent little lamb compared to the other patrons here.

"I like watching," was my vague reply.

"Watching? Watching what, exactly?"

Her eyes were wide, her tone a little breathless. She was adorable—and naive. "Have you ever been in a place like this before?" I asked.

"Is it that obvious?"

Considering she seemed to be struggling to turn on the tap for a patron's beer . . . "A little bit," I said gently.

"Well, pretty sure it'll be my last day here. While you were watching Netflix in the back—"

I snorted.

"—I spilled a drink on one guy, and nearly dropped a plate of fries on another woman. I think some cheese got on her shoes, too." Elodie grimaced. "But don't tell her it was me."

"Your secret is safe with me." I let Elodie finish pouring her beer before continuing, "What do you think of the place, though?"

Elodie seemed flustered. "Um, I don't know. It's distracting."

"Distracting? What, like you enjoy what you see?"

Elodie fumbled with a mixer, vodka spilling onto the counter. "Um, sure, maybe."

"Hey, can you make me my drink instead of talking to this guy?" a man demanded, giving me an annoyed look.

Shit . I didn't want to get her in trouble. I put up my hands, then mouthed to Elodie, "Good luck."

I slanted my eyes to the impatient patron. "Be nice to her." Then I stood, making sure the guy took in my full height, how much I towered over him. The guy quickly broke eye contact with me. Smart move .

I wandered around again, stopping to talk with a few people I recognized. One woman, Layla, who was often in one of the BDSM/punishment rooms, took my hand and squeezed it.

"I'm going to a room now," she said. "Will you come and watch?"

I lifted her hand, bringing her knuckles to my lips and kissed the top. "If you're going to be the star of the show, of course I'll watch."

Making myself comfortable in another watch room, I watched as Layla was bound, gagged, and blindfolded. Three men were involved in her punishment tonight. One man tied her so she hung from the ceiling, while another whipped her—softly at first, but with more force as she cried out in both pain and ecstasy. The third man fingered her pussy, but only enough to keep her perpetually on the edge.

Despite my best efforts, I couldn't help but wonder if Elodie would like to be dominated. Here I go again, thinking about the server . Although I enjoyed watching others, my personal kink was being a Dom. I loved having a woman at my mercy, controlling her every cry and every movement of her body. I loved when I could bring a woman to the edge of climax over and over until she begged for release.

Seeing a woman covered in welts and then kissing those welts during aftercare as I held her close—it was strangely beautiful.

I'd only spoken to Elodie for a few minutes, yet something told me she'd balk at something like getting whipped. Sure, some women were into light bondage, but the few times I'd tried to up the ante, those same women had run in the opposite direction. One woman had called me sick in the head when I'd told her I wanted to put a ball gag in her pretty mouth.

Not Layla, though. She was panting now, the trio of men inflicting pain to bring her pleasure. Layla's muscles were taut, her nipples pointed and dark, and I could tell she was about to come. But they wouldn't allow it so soon—not for a while yet.

I drank and watched, letting my thoughts drift away, the sounds and sights filling my senses. When I was younger, I'd have to stifle the urge to stroke my cock while watching a scene like this, but now I simply let my own body grow painfully hard without any stimulation.

In the years of learning and becoming a master at the intricacies of bondage and discipline, dominance and submission, sadism and masochism, I'd also learned how to control my own body. I could bring it to the edge and keep it there, never giving in to orgasm.

Layla screamed as she came, her body convulsing, the orgasm lengthening as one of the men pumped in and out of her pussy and the other fucked her in the ass. The moans and wet flesh slapping created an erotic symphony of noise.

It was a heady scene, one I could immerse myself fully in, and by the time I exited that watch room, I felt a little dazed. Yet I went looking for Elodie once again. The woman was like a magnet, drawing me near without even trying.

I found her beside a table, shattered glass, and a pool of whatever used to be inside at her feet. Serena, one of the owners of The Scarlet Rope, was yelling at her.

"Who even hired you? Because it wasn't me, that's for sure." Serena rubbed her temples. "It doesn't even matter. You're fired. Go home."

For her part, Elodie didn't seem too upset at getting fired.

I raised a brow. "Rough night?"

Elodie sighed. "You could say that."

She started toward the exit, but a sense of panic hit me. I reached out, touching her arm, something I was usually careful not to do without permission."Wait. Where can I see you again?"

"Um, I don't think—"

I released her arm and stepped in front of her. "Would you consider coming here just to enjoy yourself?"

That made her still. I watched as the wheels turned in her brain, her pupils dilating. "I don't know . . . maybe."

Adrenaline coursed through me. "Well, if you ever want to come here again . . ." I leaned down, my lips only a breath away from the curved lobe of her ear. "Give them the name Raven Blackwood. That's my private password. They'll know you're a personal guest of mine and let you right in."

Elodie took in a deep breath. "Okay," she whispered. Her skin turned crimson again. I loved the effect I seemed to have on her. It had nothing to do with my hockey-star status, either, which was refreshing. She was simply affected by me .

And damn if I wasn't affected by her.