Chapter 6

MAC

Although the sounds of moans and flesh slapping against flesh-filled the room, I could barely pay attention to any of it.

Elodie had come back. She'd used my password.

When Serena, one of the owners of the club had told me that just five minutes ago, my entire body felt like it was on fire. My nerves pulsed; my blood raced. I'd barely heard anything else even though Serena probably had some questions for me. I'd given out my password only twice since joining, and it hadn't happened in the past two years.

Elodie had come back. Why? Had she been looking for me?Or was she mainly curious about the club?

Anger bit me at the thought that she'd been here without me. Anger—and jealousy.

Maybe she'd come back for other reasons. Perhaps she'd come back to enjoy herself with other people. My password had just made her life easier.

I didn't want to think about her with another man or multiple men and women. She'd seemed so innocent. I had a hard time imagining her getting into some orgy right off the bat. That didn't seem like her at all. The thought of her watching made me hard. It was what I did most of the time. I wondered if she liked to watch, too. I could see myself taking it a step further with her, though. And I hadn't thought about that with anyone for a very long time.

I gritted my teeth, forcing my attention back to the show at hand. This particular orgy was all women, and they were all sexy as fuck. Watching one pair make out while another woman ate another's pussy was always immensely erotic. The pair that were making out moved to start scissoring each other while the third woman went to sit on one of the woman's faces.

But despite the lascivious display in front of me, I couldn't help but think about Elodie—again. I couldn't believe I'd missed her.

Her dark eyes, her curvy little body. I'd been obsessed with the thought of her since I'd met her, which wasn't like me. I was always around gorgeous, alluring women, and it didn't take much to take one home either.

But Elodie—she'd been different. It hadn't just been her innocence either. I couldn't even name why I'd found her so alluring. But I knew myself well enough to admit that I wanted her. If she showed up again, I was going to get her to agree to let me fuck her.

Movement caught my gaze. And then, as if I'd conjured her out of thin air, Elodie sat next to me.

I blinked. The room was dim, but it was her. I nearly reached out to touch her but held back. I didn't want to spook her, so I held back the exhilaration that felt ready to burst out of me.

She gave me a shy smile. "Hi," she mouthed. She wore a tight little black dress, her dainty feet in strappy heels. Fuck, I wanted those legs wrapped around my waist as I plunged inside her, my cock filling her until she could only scream my name—

I took her arm and guided her out of the room. I found us a quiet corner booth where we could talk in private.

"I looked for you last time I was here," she admitted. Suddenly, she looked shy, which was fucking adorable.

"Serena told me," I said, my voice gruff.

"Serena?"

The note of jealousy in her tone made me grin. "Serena is one of the owners. You should've met her. She handles all of the paperwork for new folks."

"Oh." Elodie let out a laugh. "I'm not sure she told me her name when she made me sign away my firstborn."

"That's her, all right. Don't worry, she intimidates the fuck out of everyone. I probably should've warned you about that. Nobody gets in here without that initiation."

Elodie shot me a surprised look. "She intimidates even you?"

"Me? Hell, yes. And she's not even a dominatrix. She's actually asexual."

Elodie blinked, then burst out laughing. "That's amazing. She owns a sex club but has no interest in sex? I guess that'd make it easy to keep things professional."

"It's a bit like a baker being allergic to sugar, but sure, I guess so." I leaned closer, letting myself inhale the scent of citrus and honey that seemed to cling to Elodie's skin. "But what about you? You're not . . . allergic to sugar, are you?"

She sucked in a quick breath. "Nooooooo."

"Did you have fun the last time you were here?" Although I wanted to know, a part of me also didn't want to hear the answer. I clenched my fist under the table as I waited for Elodie's reply.

"I just wandered. I also got some advice from a dominatrix named Delilah. She was really nice," said Elodie.

"That's it?" I let my fist unclench. "You didn't let yourself indulge?"

"I mean, I watched a few rooms." A blush crept up Elodie's cheeks. "The ones anybody can watch."

"Tell me."

She squirmed in her seat, which was fucking adorable. I turned her face back toward me since she kept looking everywhere but at me.

"You're not in trouble," I joked, stroking her jaw. "Unless you want to be," I added, my voice dropping low.

"Oh. No. Of course." She played with a strand of her hair. "Um, let's see, I saw a few different things . . ."

Elodie then gave me a detailed account of every room she watched, including one with professor/student role-play that I had the sudden, desperate urge to try with her.I got the impression that she liked to be dominated. This felt too good to be true.

A fantasy played out in my head. The thought of Student Elodie bemoaning her low grades, with me telling her there was an easy way to make that nasty F go away. She'd blush and pretend not to get it, but when I reached under her skirt, I'd find her wet. It wouldn't be long before I was bending her over a desk, her skirt bunched to her waist, her pussy dripping with desire as I thrust into her . . .

My cock was as hard as iron at the mere thought.

"What was your favorite?" I asked.

"Favorite?" She licked her lips, which made my cock twitch. "I don't know, but the BDSM probably caught my attention the most."

"Because it was strange?"

"Yes but no. Something was extra sexy about seeing another person in complete control of someone. There has to be a lot of trust built there to surrender yourself like that."

God, it was like she was speaking a language only I understood. It was intoxicating. Does this mean she'd be interested . . .?

It was too much to hope for. There'd been other women I'd thought would want to be my sub, but when push came to shove, they'd balked.

Getting loosely tied up and spanked a few times was one thing. Getting hung from the ceiling while you got whipped, your nipples clamped, and your body aching with pleasure? That was another thing entirely. And with Elodie, I could see wanting it all.

But first things first. Just because I was attracted to her didn't mean she'd make a good partner. I reminded myself that I knew fuck-all about her.

"The thing I like about this place," I said, "is that privacy is extremely important. Serena doesn't fuck around with the NDA."

Elodie smiled wryly. "Yeah, I could tell that."

"It's also important to me, being in the public eye."

Elodie's expression didn't change. If she knew who I was and was acting like she didn't, she was doing a good job of hiding it. I studied her. Eventually, she looked away, and she seemed uncomfortable.

"Are you a celebrity or something?" she asked finally.

My lips quirked. "To some people, I suppose. I'm a hockey player."

"Oh." She finally returned her gaze to mine. "Can I confess I've never watched a hockey game?"

"You wouldn't be the first person to say that to me," I said wryly.

"I know LA has a hockey team . . ." She shrugged. "That's about the extent of my knowledge."

Considering her gaze kept moving to various parts of the room, I had to admit, I wasn't totally convinced by her right now. Maybe I just want to believe she's telling the truth .

Maybe I just wanted to believe that somebody would want me for me, not for my fame.But based on how attracted to her I was, I wasn't sure it would change anything for me if she did somehow know who I was.

"So what do you do?" I asked. "And don't tell me you're a professional server because we both know that's a lie."

Elodie spluttered. "Rude!"

"How many times did you almost spill drinks on somebody last time you were here?"

"Maybe I'm just trying to change careers," she asserted.

"Well, you'd make a great professional drink spiller."

She laughed. "You're probably right."

"Sweetheart, we both know you aren't a server. You're too—" I hesitated, which was a bad idea.

Elodie rolled her eyes. "Don't finish that sentence. No, I'm not a server. I'm a writer."

When she didn't supply any more details, I raised an eyebrow. "And . . .?"

"And what? I write words for a living." Now, she seemed flustered. Why? Did she not want to talk about her work?

Living in LA meant I knew writers galore. And they all seemed like they wanted to tell everyone about what they were writing, especially if it was for TV or film. More than one screenwriter had propositioned me while living here. Not for sex—no, they wanted my connections even though I was an athlete, not an actor or producer or some assistant fetching coffee for a movie set's actors.

"What kind of words?" I finished off my drink, wondering if I wanted a second one. Then again, with Elodie, I should probably keep my wits about me. If she decided she wanted to play, I wanted to remember every second of the experience.

"I'm writing a book." Elodie shrugged. "It's not very interesting. I'm not writing dinosaur erotica or anything."

I nearly choked on air. "Dinosaur—?"

Elodie grinned. "Oh, you don't know about dinosaur erotica? You're missing out. All kinds of books out there about being pounded in the butt by a T-rex."

I gaped at her. "You're fucking with me."

To prove me wrong, Elodie whipped out her phone, typed in a few choice words, and then showed me all the T-rex porn available. And there was . . . way too much of it.

"Now I know what you like," I commented.

Elodie laughed. "Getting pounded in the butt by a gigantic reptile does not sound appealing in the least." Her eyes sparkled. "I'd prefer a centaur. At least they're half man."

"I'm not even going down that slippery slope." I ran my knuckles down her arm, loving that goose bumps rose on her skin as I traced my fingers along a vein in her forearm on the way back up. "So you're saying you don't want to be pounded in the butt? Ever?"

That question might've been a bit direct, but hey, she'd opened the door to it, so I took the opportunity. She'd opened the back door, I supposed.

Elodie shivered. "Um, uh, what a question."

"Or maybe you'd like to pound somebody else in their butt."

She looked around. "I think we're going to win a Guinness World Record with how many times we've said, ‘pounded in the butt' out loud."

"We're in a sex club. That phrase is as tame as it gets around here."

"True."She watched as I kept stroking her arm, but soon enough, she shifted to give us a little more space.

I didn't want space. "Are you seeing someone?" I asked.

She blinked. "I have a boyfriend, yeah."

My chest tightened. Not what I wanted to hear, although I wasn't sure it changed anything for me.

"So why are you at a sex club alone?" I didn't try to hide the growl beneath my words.

"It's . . . complicated." She began playing with her hair again. "Todd wants me to move to San Francisco. I don't want to leave LA. I think we're at a stalemate, and neither of us wants to make the next move."

She looked so sad right then that my anger faded quickly. I took her hand and squeezed it.

She's not your type anyway, I reminded myself. She's too innocent. She'd run in the opposite direction if she knew what you wanted to do to her.

"What about you? Are you seeing anyone?" she asked.

I smiled. "Not at the moment. That's why I'm here at the club. It's helpful for meeting people."

"People like you, you mean."

"What does that mean . . .?"

"People who like a certain type of sexual excitement," she clarified.

"You could say that, yeah. It helps to know that someone won't be freaked out about it. If they're here, they obviously aren't."

"And how many people have you met? Here, I mean," asked Elodie.

"There have been a few." At her widened eyes, I laughed. "Is that so shocking? I'm not here just to watch. I'd like to connect with someone at some point and enjoy myself with them here. But I haven't met the right person for that yet."

"But you must've taken women home . . ."

I explained to her that I rarely took women home with me, preferring to enjoy women in the rooms here at The Scarlet Rope. Taking a woman—or multiple women—home complicated things. More often than not, they'd want more or expect a relationship of some sort. Or worse, they just wanted a chance to get some dirt on somebody like me and then run straight to the tabloids to spill what they'd learned.

"It's not really about adding notches to my bedpost," I added. "That's never been a problem for me, especially with my celebrity status. I could go to a bar for that. Or take up with any of the dozens of women waiting outside the arena. For me, it's about finding people who enjoy the same things as I do."

"They don't have apps for that by now?" asked Elodie.

"Oh, they do. But I like to vet people in person. It's too easy to get catfished online. And the club itself vets the members, too. Online dating is too much the Wild West for me, personally."

I kept Elodie's gaze. "But it's all about exploration. And trust. Trust is paramount because there's no shame here. Just enjoyment." When Elodie seemed puzzled, I put out my hand. "Let me show you."

She froze, which made me chuckle. "We're just going to watch," I explained. "Watch and learn. I promise."

I could see her hesitate. But when she placed her hand in mine, triumph burst through me. At that moment, my mind could only repeat the word, mine.

I took her to one of the BDSM rooms. This scene was just two people, a man and a woman. The woman was the dominant, with the man on all fours in front of her. She placed a ball gag over his mouth and went to choose a whip from the vast array hanging from a nearby wall.

I watched Elodie out of the corner of my eye. She was transfixed, her cheeks turning bright red when the dominatrix began to whip her sub. The man whimpered and moaned, which only made the dominatrix whip him harder.

"Make any more noise, and you'll pay for it," she said.

The man shivered. But when the woman yanked him up by his hair, he let out a sound of pleasure/pain that resounded throughout the room. Soon, he was being tied up to hang from the ceiling to serve his punishment for disobedience.

The whipping continued, from hard to soft and everything in between. Red marks littered the man's body.

I only had eyes for Elodie. It took all of my self-control not to touch her, but these rooms weren't for touching other people. They were just for watching.

When the dominatrix thrust a large glass butt plug into the man, Elodie shivered. She caught my gaze, and she licked her lips. "I need a breather," she mouthed.

I escorted her out of the room, internally freaking out. Had I pushed her too far? But when I had her drink a glass of water, she let out a little laugh.

"Sorry," she kept saying.

"Was it too much?" I asked, feeling like a complete piece of shit. When was I going to stop being ashamed of something I enjoyed?

Her eyes widened. "No. I mean, it was a lot to take in, but . . ." She looked at a loss for words. "I don't even know how to explain it."

"Try me."

Her dark eyes flashed with something that made my own body respond. "I think it was sitting there with you," she finally whispered. "I didn't have this kind of reaction the last time I was here."

It was me. I was the reason for this reaction. I was affecting her, which was everything I'd hoped for. I wanted to kiss her. I wanted to push her against the nearest wall and fuck her mouth until she was putty in my arms. What I wouldn't give to hear the sound of her choking on my cock.

But I restrained myself. I clenched my jaw until it ached. "So you liked it?" I finally ground out.

"I'm not sure. I think so."

She thinks so.

"I'll take that as a yes," I said.

Her lashes fluttered. "So are you like that guy?"

It took a moment for my brain to compute what she was asking. Then I let out a chuckle. "Do you mean a submissive? No. Far from it." I touched her cheek. "Baby, I'm a dominant all the way."