Chapter 8

I’m so fucking nervous.My heart keeps racing at the thought of how tonight might go. I see him again and don’t know what to do with myself. This has never happened before.

Snakebite is the first member that I’ve taken behind closed curtains. And I want to do more with him.

River would have a field day if she could hear my thoughts. She’d clap her hands and be proud that I’m finally putting myself out there to find a connection with a member.

Even if it is temporary. The feeling of nerves amplifies with the sudden thought that it’s not permanent.

He’ll either stay here for a few weeks to work out whatever deal he has with his clients or leave. But all the possible scenarios of him staying in New York are temporary.

It’s hard to keep composure when all I want to do is see him again.

A sound from across the apartment grabs my attention, and Frankie is busy making us sandwiches. I offered to get us lunch from one of my favorite spots a few blocks away, but he saw how full my fridge was and wanted to make us something.

“Estás bien?” I call out from the couch. There’s a grunt from the kitchen that doesn’t sound good, so I get up and make my way.

He hears my footsteps, and I see him shake his head as I near the kitchen. “No, Rosita, I got this! Sit back down. I swear I remember how to make your dad’s sandwich.”

I giggle at this, and his eyes lift from the kitchen table to me. He’s wearing a tight-fitted blue shirt and some jeans. He looks so ordinary, yet not at all.

Although the last few days, my mind has been on a stranger, some feelings are surfacing when I’m back to being around Frankie. He’s been busy the last few days, so I couldn’t see him.

“Are you sure? I can text him for the recipe,” I say, grabbing my phone from my back pocket. But Frankie beats me to it and leans over, grasping the phone and placing it on the table.

“No, I got this. Trust me,” he breathes out.

I hold back more laughter as I watch him scratch his head, make his way back to the fridge, and yank out a few more ingredients. It’s a simple sandwich, but I’m guessing he’s got something going on he’s more focused on.

I see the tomato on the table and grab it, heading to the counter with the cutting board. I begin cutting slices to add them to the sandwiches.

Frankie doesn’t seem to notice as he’s still rummaging through the fridge. I take a seat and clear my throat. He looks up and sees the missing ingredient he was looking for.

“Oh,” he half-heartedly laughs.

I cross my arms and stare at him. “Everything okay?”

He closes the fridge before settling in the chair diagonal from me. Our knees bump, and he presses his lips together before sighing.

“Not exactly. But I don’t want to get you worried about me, okay, Rosita?”

The kid nickname still annoys me, but it’s for the best. I hold back my own sigh and try to be there for Frankie. “I’m here for you. Is it your friend? Did he kick you out? You can stay on our couch in the meantime. Luisa won’t mind.”

“She’d love that,” he jokes.

“I mean, if you like that, then go ahead,” I say, looking at him slowly to see how he reacts to that idea of Luisa. But he pays no mind as he picks up the sandwich and takes a bite. He looks at me and hands me the sandwich, and I take it, biting into it. We share the sandwich for a few more bites before he finally talks.

“I don’t want to disappoint your dad.”

“How do you mean?”

He shrugs. “I’m out here doing what I can, and he’s back there dealing with the rest of our company and Dahlia.”

I reach my hand out to hold his wrist, and he looks at me intently. “They’ll be fine. You’re going back soon, right? You’re not gone forever. I love having you here, but you don’t have to stay in NYC, right?”

It’s been comforting having Frankie so close to me, but if he needs to go back to Sunny Cove to help Dad out with the company, then he needs to do that.

Is he running away from something? Or is he really working here? There are some things I just don’t ask him or Dad since it’s not my business. But the conversation from a few days ago at the cafe, where Frankie mentioned he could keep secrets from Dad, comes to the forefront of my mind.

“You won’t miss me?” He fakes a frown, and I squeeze his hand before retracting and leaning back in my chair.

“Of course I will. But we’re busy people. My job is gearing up to add more events closer to the holiday, which means increasing hours to my schedule.”

“I do miss Sunny Cove,” he adds. “I think Arlo is planning to talk to me soon about expanding and taking over more of the company while he takes a step back.”

That wouldn’t surprise me. He hasn’t told me anything about that, and Clementine hasn’t mentioned it, but it’s definitely something that’s plausible.

“Well, like I said. If you find yourself staying and need a place, our couch is open.”

He smiles and takes the last bite of the sandwich before starting on the other one. I look at the sandwich and already feel like I’ve gained so much from the few bites I had. The walk this morning was long before Frankie came over, but I want to go for a run.

“Rosalía,” Frankie says, breaking me out of my thoughts. I look at him, and his brow is raised.

“Hmm?” I ask.

“I asked if you had to work tonight.”

“Oh!” I smile. “Yeah, but can we get dinner tomorrow? I want to show you my favorite Manhattan restaurant.”

“It’s a date,” he says quickly but then freezes for a moment. I do, too.

It doesn’t help with the way my stomach flutters. And I’m not sure if it’s with nerves or with the way he’s looking at me.

“S-sure,” I mumble out, breaking out in a sweat and slapping on a smile.

He brushes his hands from any crumbs before standing up. I do, too, and I head back to the couch while he washes the dishes and puts away remnants of our lunch.

Soon after, he joins me, and we waste the rest of the day watching movies and not thinking about Sunny Cove or the future.

Just Rosa and Frankie enjoying their TV time.

He’s goton a dark green dress shirt and black dress pants that fit him perfectly. His mask is a matching dark green, which makes his brown eyes pop. The butterflies in my stomach swarm with intensity.

Snakebite walked into the club with a rose gold bracelet again and no charms.

Baby steps.

He’s looking at me from across the private room as I take a seat on the loveseat. I’m wearing, coincidentally, an emerald green corset and matching garter.

“We’re matching,” I say quickly, settling into the cushion. His eyes rake over my body, and he adjusts on the couch.

“Pareces un ángel,” he whispers so softly I almost miss it.

My body heats up, and I know I’m blushing bright scarlet under my mask. My hands fidget on the corset ties in the front while I study him and bite my lip. He’s got my nerves all over the place. All I could think about the rest of the day after Frankie left was him. Snakebite.

“You don’t look so bad yourself, Snakebite,” I tease. He shifts closer to me on the cushion, and something in me screams to get up. So I do.

I sit up, get on my knees, and press my palms on the cushion before crawling to him.

I have no idea what I’m doing, but I’m doing it.

“Is this okay?” I whisper, watching him for a moment and pausing. He swallows and nods, watching me with doe eyes. No, glazed and hooded eyes. Like he’s under a spell.

My spell.

This brings even more confidence for what I do next. My limbs are quick to move as I continue to crawl toward him and latch my palms onto his shoulders. They’re strong underneath my touch, and I take a sharp breath.

But I stop to ask for more consent because that’s what we prioritize here—consent with each step. Any ounce of doubt means no, and we stop everything until the member tells us to continue.

“Can I sit on you?” The words come out fast from my lips, and he looks almost stunned before he nods, and I straddle him before lowering myself. His hands stay at his sides, and I have to remind myself that most members wait until the employees say it’s okay for them to be touched.

“You can hold me,” I assure him, and he nods again, lifting his hands to latch them onto my hips. I jolt forward from the feeling as if I’ve never had a man touch me there before. With this stranger, it feels almost different.

Like I want him to explore every inch of my body. We’re in our own little world, and I hope we stay here all night.

His hands smooth over my hips before his fingers press firmly into my skin, causing me to hiss.

“Carajo, lo siento, ángel,” he whispers, releasing the pressure. I shake my head and grab his wrists, guiding his fingers back to my hips and even moving his hands to a smooth motion. His hands explore my hips and thighs before settling on my mid back.

“We don’t have to do anything. If you want to get a charm, though—” I start, but he shakes his head.

“I’m fine like this if you are. We can stop if you’d like.”

“Can I be honest with you?” I lean in, causing my core to brush against his growing erection, and I try to steady my breathing. He’s definitely big.

He swallows and presses his lips firmly together as if he’s attempting to regain composure from me accidentally grinding on him.

“Por supuesto,” he mumbles. I scoot closer until we’re stomach to stomach, and my corset rubs against his nice dress shirt. I try not to move too much for the details in my corset to snag on the fabric of his shirt.

I stare at him before continuing. “You’re the first member I’ve ever taken in a private space.”

“En serio?”

I nod. “Baby steps.”

He takes in my response for a moment before smiling. “Baby steps. We go at our own pace. No rush at all, ángel.”

The way he calls me angel makes me wonder why he continues to call me that when he knows my ‘club’ name. But it’s not the time to ask or correct him.

“Can I kiss you?” I blurt out, shocked at my own words. But I can’t stop staring at his lips.

“Por favor,” he almost seems to choke out. My hands move from his shoulders to his neck. I glide one hand to caress his jaw before the other grasps the nape of his neck. He doesn’t break eye contact while I lean in, his grip on my hips tightening as if he never wants to let me go.

My lips press against his, and they’re softer than I imagined. So soft that it elicits a moan out of my lips once we separate. We’re mask to mask, his brown eyes boring into mine. The beat of my heart increases, and I roll my hips against him with no caution.

“Ay, Dios.”

“Sorry,” I mumble, but before I can remove myself from his lap, his hold tightens even more and presses me back into him. My clothed pussy presses down on his erection once more.

He moves a hand from my hip to my cheek before gliding to my neck to pull me in for another kiss. This time is with more intensity, passion, and something else.

Desire.

Like he’s starved from a woman’s touch and can’t believe he got a taste. This fuels a fire in me as I reciprocate the kiss, and his tongue presses against my lips.

“Puedo?” he whispers, and I nod quickly so he can get back to it and he pushes his tongue into my mouth.

He groans, and I melt under his touch. Our tongues clash, and my hips continue to circle and grind against him. My body is screaming for more, but I have to remind myself that we’re taking it slow. Kissing is all that we should do tonight. Plus, he’s not wearing any of the flower charms on his bracelet. Although he’s able to add them on throughout the night, I’m really hoping he doesn’t. I like this. Right here.

He pulls back to stare at me, and I see how red his neck has gotten, and it’s traveled up to his cheeks. He’s flustered just like I am. His chest moves in rapid motion through his breaths.

“Estás bien?” I ask softly, lifting a hand to gingerly brush away a curl of his that moved to the top of the mask. My finger stays on the edge of the mask.

I want to lift it so bad, regardless of my reaction two nights ago when I told him he didn’t have to take it off. But I also love the mystery of it all: the ability to stay anonymous in the most vulnerable time.

Because when you think about it, we’re drawn to opening up to strangers. It’s easier to spill our souls and worries to a stranger than to a loved one. There’s no judgment nor expectation to find solutions.

Just two strangers finding solace in each other at the darkest hour.

“I’m fine, ángel,” he responds before pulling me in again. A squeal leaves my lips, and we’re kissing again with the same tenacity. The same passion. I’m lost in his lips, and there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.

He moans through our kisses while his hands explore my waist and thighs. A hand finds the garter again and snaps it against my skin. I bite his lower lip in retaliation, yet he growls under his breath.

And it’s the hottest thing I’ve ever heard from a man. Scratch that. It’s the first time I’ve ever heard this coming from a man. And I know I’m already addicted.

Snakebite pulls the garter once more to snap against my skin, and it brings me out of my thoughts of past partners.

“You taste so fucking good,” he says in a lower register than what I’m used to hearing. As if that was possible. Like a true bedroom voice.

“Less talking, more kissing,” I whisper, and he presses my back forward where my breasts in this corset are squished up against his chest. His cologne invades my senses, and there’s something so familiar about it.

“Yes, ma’am,” he chuckles before we continue our makeout. It feels like we’re in this room for hours when I know it has to be maybe half an hour to an hour, realistically.

My lips are bruised and will definitely be obvious tomorrow. His growing beard has rubbed against my skin during our makeout, and I’m sure it’ll look like I got a rash in the morning.

But I don’t care. The thought of being marked like this by Snakebite brings flutters to my core.

The sound of a ringing phone brings us out of our bubble, and he curses under his breath in Spanish.

“Lo siento, ángel,” he mumbles. “Swore I turned that off.”

“It’s okay,” I respond, leaning back and watching him run his hand through his hair and pull out his phone. He looks at the screen, blinks his eyes rapidly, and then they turn to concern.

“Everything okay?” I ask.

“Y-yeah, just my boss asking for something.”

I take this time to smooth my corset before hopping off him. My shorts are pulled all the way up from my grinding, so I move them back in place.

He’s busy texting back before he sighs. “Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt. I know phones aren’t supposed to be on.”

“It’s okay,” I lie. It’s not okay for him to have his phone out in the club just for security purposes and to make sure all rules are being followed. But he seems genuinely sorry, and it looked like an important message.

His eyes flicker to me, and he’s still taking deep breaths. “I really enjoyed this.”

I nod, playing with my hair out of nerves. “Me too.” That’s when I finally remember what we talked about the last time we were here. “Oh! How did your meeting go?”

A smile grows on his face. “You remembered.” I nod before he continues. “It went really well. I might have a contract with them for the next few weeks. I’ve got some more meetings this weekend and next week as well.”

“Busy man,” I tease, but I’m happy for him for some odd reason.

“This means I get to stay in New York for a little longer, at least.” His eye contact doesn’t fall from me as if he’s gauging my reaction.

I give him a smile, but my heart is stammering against my chest. “That’s great! I’m proud of you. See? Baby steps.”

“Baby steps,” he repeats with a chuckle.

I stand, not wanting to cause anything to get awkward. There seems to be a silence that fills the air, and I don’t want him to feel it, either.

He stands, and I have to remember how tall he is. I crane my neck to look up at him, and he lifts a hand to brush a strand of hair away from my mask. His fingers stay behind my ear, and I lose my breath for a second.

“You’re absolutely captivating. Mi mente no puede comprenderlo.”

“Thank you,” I let out a shaky breath. Holy shit.

“But, baby steps. And I’ve got a boss to message back. Will you work this weekend?”

That’s when his words remind me about our upcoming event this weekend. It’s our version of a fun game night that happens once a month.

Members choose however many charms they’d like to try that night and then find a girl to mix in a bowl before she picks one out. It’s a roulette of sorts but with our kink rooms. The charm the girl picks is the room they can go to for the night.

If River or any of the girls asked if I was going to participate in this a few weeks ago, I would’ve said absolutely not. But right now, I want to.

But would he even participate?

“We’ve got a game night,” I start. He looks at me with interest.

“Yeah? What kind of game?” He takes a step closer, creating a bubble around us once more. He’s intoxicating.

He’s all I can breathe in right now. My mind is like putty.

“Has to do with the charms.”

He eyes me before he bites his lower lip. “The charms? Interesting.”

“Mhm, so it’s not required for you. I know you don’t have them on.”

He looks down at his wrist with the vine bracelet.

“Will you be working the bar or the game night?”

I hesitate for a moment. It’s like whatever I think, he’s on the same page too. How is this possible? “I wasn’t going to participate. I haven’t really participated in any of these events the club hosts. You have to remember that you’re the first member I’ve ever taken into a private space.”

“But would you if I did?”

I pause for a moment with his words. He’s very upfront about it, and he’s saying exactly what I needed him to say as if he can read my mind.

“You’d get some charms?”

He nods, watching me. “Only if you’re the girl that I partner with for whatever game the club plans to play.”

“Do you want to know?”

He’s silent for a moment before responding. “Does it end up with me choosing the charm or the girl choosing?”

“The girl,” I smirk.

“Baby steps even with the charms. Right?” He asks softly, inching even closer if that is possible.

“Baby steps, even with the charms,” I repeat. “We’ll go slow if you’d like.”

“I like slow,” he whispers. His breath fans over the top of my head. I close my eyes for a moment. Fuck, he’s good.

“I like slow, too.”

“Tell me you’ll participate that night,” he urges.

I stare at him with wide eyes. He waits patiently for what feels like a full minute, but I know only five seconds have passed.

“I’ll find you that night,” I finally say.

“Perfecto.”

He nods towards the curtains, and I smile sheepishly, forgetting where we’re at once more. The effect he has on me is getting to be too much. I’m unfocused and in another world.

“After you,” he says after opening the curtain. I follow him out onto the main floor, letting him press his palm against my small back once more like he did the other night.

Like it fits perfectly and should be there all the time.