21. Adam

21

ADAM

F uck.

Natalie stares at me like a rabbit in the headlights before turning on her heel and disappearing into the crowd.

Not on her fucking life.

I instantly abandon Rose, who approached me at the bar next door earlier and asked if I’d contribute a few spanks while some other member went down on her. I was happy to oblige. It struck me as a practical tradeoff between my lack of interest in fucking anyone tonight who wasn’t the hostile woman in reception and my decidedly twitchy palm, a stress response that was as unfortunate as it was predictable.

But now the dirty little liar who never fraternises has rocked up in the fucking Playroom and has the audacity to glare at me while I administer a couple of well-timed spanks as a favour to Rose.

I don’t think so.

‘Natalie!’ I shout ineffectually over the music as I push through the crowd of bodies. The sheer number of people in here works against her, as does the length of my legs, and I close the gap before she has a chance to wrench open the door, wrapping my fingers around her upper arm so I can turn her to face me.

Boy, is that a mutinous little face staring up at me. She’d be far safer if she knew how sincerely I enjoy it when women are mutinous. It affords me so much more pleasure when I spank it out of them. Especially when their pupils are as dilated as hers are, and their sweet little tits are heaving like this, and the long, delicate layers of black tulle comprising her dress beg to be tossed airily aside so that the pert little bottom they conceal can be spanked.

‘Wait,’ I order her sternly, and she tries unsuccessfully to tug her arm away.

‘Let me go!’ she shouts. She’s seriously affronted; that much is clear. Also clear is that I have no intention of letting her walk out of here on these terms, so she can go home and seethe with judgement. I put my mouth to her ear.

‘Just wait . I want to speak to you. Come with me. Just for a minute.’

I take her eye roll as agreement and frogmarch her across the room to the door leading to the private space. One of the hosts, a fair-haired chump in the guys’ uniform of tight black t-shirt and black trousers, grins at her, his face positively lighting up as he takes her in.

One of the many fans she has among the staff here, I suspect.

I lean in. ‘We need a private room.’

He looks from me to her. That wiped the grin off his face pretty quickly.

‘For real?’

‘Just to chat,’ I lie smoothly. ‘Right, Natalie? ’

‘Are you okay?’ he asks her. ‘I can get Stan to kick him out.’

I’m about to tell him a stunt like that would be more than his job is worth, when Natalie interjects.

‘I’m fine.’ Her favourite word.

‘Okay then,’ he says with a shrug that tells me he’s unconvinced at best. ‘Room Eight is free.’

I grace him with nothing more than a curt nod as I open the door and lead Natalie down the corridor. We walk in silence towards our allocated room, and I usher her in before slamming the door shut behind us. In an instant, the music dulls to a quiet thud and we’re blessedly alone. She backs away a few steps.

I’m determined to have the first word. ‘So you decided to fraternise for once, did you? What a coincidence. And let me guess, you didn’t like what you saw.’

She crosses her arms over her middle, but it’s fucking warm in here and those nipples of hers are still acting like she’s skinny dipping in the North Sea. ‘You hit women.’

I’d like to think I’ve been nothing but civil in the face of her relentless hostility for the extent of our interactions, but this takes the cake. ‘Oh, for fuck’s sake. Don’t you dare take what you saw out there and twist that into something disgusting. I would never, ever hit a woman.’

The unspoken hangs heavily between us. But God knows, I’d hit a man.

‘I was spanking her,’ I continue, ‘and you damn well know that. And she fucking loved it.’

‘How do you know?’

I glare at her in disbelief. ‘Because I spanked her last week when I fucked her in here, and she came very, very hard, I’ll have you know. And she was on duty again tonight, so when she saw me at the bar she approached me and begged me to use my hands on her again while that guy tongue-fucked her. Consensual enough for you?’

That takes the wind out of her sails. I see the moment she decides to believe me. She swallows, her arms loosening in defeat, fingers swallowed up in the frothy layers of her skirt.

‘What are you doing here, Natalie?’

‘I don’t have to justify myself to you. I work here.’

‘So you do. I’m just curious, because I thought you didn’t “fraternise”. Wasn’t that the term you used? Want to know what I think?’

‘Not really, but I assume you’re going to mansplain it to me anyway.’

I take a step towards her, and she instinctively steps backwards, her back hitting the wall and her head tilting upwards so she can keep her eyes on me as I close the gap. I’m not some dickhead who wilfully misreads women’s signals, but it’s not contempt I see on her beautiful face as she stares at me, nor is it fear.

Not even close.

I stop a foot or so away from her, planting my hands on the wall and caging her in before I dip my head so I can whisper close to her ear.

‘You don’t need me to “mansplain” it to you, because your own body is telling you loud and clear. I think you came in to find me, because I think you’ve been wondering about my question all evening. Wondering what would happen if you did come in.’

‘That’s ridiculous.’ Her voice cracks, and she clears her throat. ‘I’m not attracted to violent thugs.’

I dip my head even further so my lips graze her ear, and I swear to God she shivers. ‘That’s not who I am these days, and I think you know that. I’ve done a lot of work on myself, and my self-control is positively monastic. So you never, ever need to worry about that.

‘In any case, I think you’re talking bullshit. But I’ll be mature enough to admit it for both of us. I want you so badly I barely know my own name right now, and I would bet a lot of money that if I reached under that little dress and felt your panties, they would be absolutely soaked .’

Her breaths are ragged. The perfume emanating from the heat of her skin is subtle enough to suggest she put it on a few hours ago, but it still makes me dizzy.

‘I hate you,’ she whispers. ‘Remember?’

I close my eyes. ‘I don’t doubt that for a second. But I also don’t doubt you want me—maybe even as badly as I want you. And you know I would never, ever hurt you. So why don’t you let me make you feel good?’ I lower my voice to a barely audible level, so that my words are little more than a caress. ‘Because I think you want me to take you to places you rarely let yourself visit, you sweet little uptight thing, and the only thing standing in your way of complete and utter transcendence is your own pig-headedness.’

I change tack, straightening up and standing back so I can regard her. Her eyes are huge, beseeching, and her entire posture speaks of defeat, slumped as she is against the wall as though she can barely hold herself up. Her little dress is exquisite: boned satin and glittering accents and the softest, most ethereal skirt—a skirt that would prove no defence against me. It reminds me of her brand.

Gossamer.

It’s so perfect for her. Delicate and feminine and ephemeral. She’s the dark ballerina in the music box tonight, a beautiful, fragile doll I want to wrench free from her self-imposed captivity and prevail over while I coax unspeakable pleasure from her body .

We stand like this for a moment, my head bowed, my entire body arched towards her, hers open and pliant against the wall. It’s as if her body already knows the secrets still evading her head.

She opens her mouth, but the next words out of it take me by surprise.

‘I shouldn’t want this,’ she whispers, almost to herself, as those huge eyes take me in. ‘Seriously. Not with you, of all people. What the fuck is wrong with me?’

No no no no no. I can’t have this. Can’t have her beating herself up because I’ve broken her will. A sudden surge of self-loathing courses through me, as chilling as the flood of relief was warm just now, when she finally acknowledged her internal struggle.

I step forward again and slide my hands under her long earrings and up her neck, finding and cupping her jaw. ‘No, sweetheart. Absolutely nothing is wrong with you, you hear me? You are fucking perfect .’

She’s still staring at me. She looks dazed. Slowly enough to give her space and deliberately enough that she understands I’m in complete control of myself, I bend and press my lips to the side of her neck.