Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 88228 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88228 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
“Seriously?”
“Have you ever known Mr. Black to not be serious?”
He’s got me there. “I suppose you won’t take me if I don’t put it on.”
“Right.”
“Well, that’s fine—”
He interrupts me with a burst of laughter. “He said you’d say that as well.”
I huff and tie the blindfold around my eyes. “Satisfied?”
“Doesn’t matter to me,” he says, “but Mr. Black will be satisfied.”
Which is all that matters, of course.
My flesh tingles. Is he taking me to a…
No. Braden was clear. He only engages in the leather lifestyle in New York. So where are we going?
About twenty minutes later—I’m guessing, as I can’t see my watch or my phone—the car stops.
“We’re here,” Christopher says.
“May I take off the blindfold?”
“Not yet. Mr. Black will come get you, and then he’ll tell you what you need to do.”
A few minutes later, the car door opens. “Skye.”
Braden’s voice. It’s low and sexy.
“Hi, Braden.”
His fingers touch my arm. I shudder.
“Come with me.”
He helps me out of the car and then places his arm around my waist. “Don’t be afraid.”
I clear my throat. “I’m not.”
“You are. I can feel the tension in your body. There’s no reason to be afraid.”
“I know that.”
“Good. You’ll enjoy tonight. I promise.”
A few moments later, we’re inside a building. The scent of cigar smoke wafts toward us. Where are we? Smoking is illegal in public places in Boston except for cigar bars. Braden didn’t bring me to a cigar bar, did he?
Jazz music plays softly.
“Where are we?” I ask.
He gently pulls off my blindfold. “Look around. See for yourself.”
My eyes adjust to the darkness. The atmosphere is smoky and hazy, and I don’t have a clue what’s going on.
“This is another place I own. An investment. It’s a cigar bar and jazz club, but tonight, it’s all ours.”
“What?”
“I closed it to the public tonight. Just you and me, Skye. We’re going to listen to some incredible music.”
“Oh.” I sigh softly. “It sounds wonderful.”
“Not only that,” he continues, “but we’re going to make love here, Skye.”
“But what about the band?” I ask, looking around.
The stage is empty.
“The music is on the sound system,” Braden says. “I had them record a set, and then I gave everyone the night off with double pay.”
I warm all over. He closed up a jazz bar for me. The scent of cigar smoke doesn’t bother me. In fact, it seems normal for this place, adds to the ambiance. The leather chairs are worn, the lighting dim. I feel like I’ve walked into an old speakeasy during Prohibition. Any minute, I expect Al Capone to appear with a flapper on each arm.
“Why, Braden?”
“Because it’s different. It’s exciting.”
Different, yes. Exciting? Had I not experienced the leather club in Manhattan, I’d be very excited right now. But since the Black Rose Underground, everything else seems so…tame.
Braden’s blue eyes smolder.
And I know he has something in mind.
Something that will excite me.
I look around. A wooden bar stands along one side of the large room. Tables with worn leather chairs are scattered throughout. A small area by the stage provides a makeshift dance floor.
Everything in here exudes character.
“What’s the name of this place?” I ask.
“It doesn’t have a name,” he says.
I lift my eyebrows.
“It’s a secret club,” he says.
“So I was right!”
“About what?”
“It feels like an old speakeasy.”
He lifts the corners of his lips. “That’s the idea. Except nothing is illegal about this place.”
“I didn’t know there were places like this in Boston.”
“Every major city has places like this. They’re iconic.”
“And you…”
He chuckles. “Of course I had to have one.”
I nod. It makes an odd sort of sense. Braden is secretive about so much of his life. Of course he wants to own a secret bar. Hell, he owns a leather club in New York.
I uncovered another layer of Braden Black tonight.
I smile to myself.
“The bar,” Braden says, “is antique wood from the roaring twenties. I like to think it might have sat in a real speakeasy once.”
I nod.
“Undress, Skye.”
I widen my eyes.
“Do it.”
I timidly look around. No one is here but us, of course. He said he’d closed the place. Still, we’re in a public place…
Which is kind of exciting. I almost wish someone could walk in at any moment.
“Do I need to repeat myself?”
I peel off my blouse and my bra. Then my shoes and jeans, until I stand only in my lacy panties.
“Keep going.”
I nervously glance around, still expecting—hoping for?—someone to walk in.
“No one else is here, Skye.”
I shimmy out of my panties and hold them out to Braden. He takes them and stares at them for a few seconds. I half expect him to sniff them, but he doesn’t.
“Now, get on the bar.”
I walk toward the bar and hoist myself onto it. The wood is cool against my bare skin.
“Spread your legs.”
I obey. I’m wet and ready, but something is missing. I can’t say what. I look around at the dusky ambiance, listen to the jazz filtering through the sound system.