Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 62497 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 312(@200wpm)___ 250(@250wpm)___ 208(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62497 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 312(@200wpm)___ 250(@250wpm)___ 208(@300wpm)
A driver holds the door open for me, and I slide into the backseat as three other cars take off ahead of us.
I am so not used to this kind of luxury. Cold bottles of water are waiting in a small compartment next to me, and there is enough leg space for a professional basketball player to spread his legs out in here and I kick my heels off, giving my feet a reprieve. The drive is only about ten minutes before we come to a stop behind the other cars in our caravan. I watch through the window as some of the men shuffle inside what seems to be a back-alley club. I sit with my legs crossed, hoping and praying to God I can hold my pee.
Alcohol and my bladder do not mix well.
“Do you think they have a bathroom I can use inside?” I ask the driver.
“Sure they do,” he says.
“I’ll be right back.”
I slide my heels back on and open the door. As I climb out, the cool night air hits my skin. I go to the front door, where I noticed other people walk in, and slip inside. I hear many male voices as I continue through the club’s lobby, following the crowd I was with making their way to the back. I see a sign that shows restroom and slip past the group in front of me. I notice a few women at the desk have ribbons in their hair.
“Miss,” someone calls from behind me, but I don’t stop. If I don’t pee now, I won’t make it to the hotel. And for all I know, they’re talking to someone else. “Miss!” The voice gets louder as I reach the door and twist the handle. “Don’t go—” Ignoring her, I step into the room and pause. “Please get out of there, or I will call security.”
“Sorry, I was just…” I trail off as I get a good look at the room and realize in my haste I must’ve opened the wrong door and this is not a bathroom at all. It’s a room with a man sitting in a large black chair and a lady kneeling in front of him. My gaze takes them in. Well, the bottom half of them anyway. She is dressed in a white nurse outfit, and her ass is exposed. He’s slouched in the chair with his pants pulled down and knife in his hand.
Oh my God, what did I walk in on? I go to step back, but I can’t stop gawking. My gaze trails up the man from his booted feet, past all his ink, until it lands on his face.
And when recognition hits, my breathing stops, and I’m sure my heart does too.
Kenzo is sitting there, blood dripping down his beautiful body. And he is looking at me with lust in his eyes.
“Shut the door, wife.”
Fourteen
Kenzo
“Sir?” Bianca says from her knees in front of me. She’s confused, as am I right now.
“Get up, Bianca.”
“But, sir, we only just started.” Her tits hang out of her nurse costume, and my eyes flick to them briefly before I stand and buckle up my belt. “Is everything okay? Was that your wife?” she continues asking questions while checking over her shoulder.
I don’t bother answering—there is no need. I pay her for a service that she’s amazing at providing. I’ve been coming here for a long time and using Bianca for just as long. My friend, and probably the only other person I can stand, apart from Pops and my brothers, owns this sex club. Each of the rooms was created to fulfill people’s desires.
This is the red room, which means blood play.
It’s my favorite room.
It’s a place where I can do exactly what I want.
A place where my dick turns to stone.
Finding my shirt, I pull it on and walk out of the room, sliding my knife into my pocket as I do so.
I walk past Grayson, who is watching me with a confused expression, and the crowd makes way for me.
Once I get outside, I spot her.
She’s dressed nicely.
Who knew she had that body hiding under all those boring clothes?
Even the one time she wore a dress, it was loose. But the dress she currently wears is tight fitting and shows off all the curves of a desirable woman.
I bite my bottom lip as the man beside her touches her shoulder and rubs it. Her arms are wrapped around her middle as if she’s holding on to herself for dear life.
“Remove your hand,” I growl to the man as I come up behind them.
Mayve instantly tenses, knowing it’s me, and the man, whom I recognize, does as requested.
“Kenzo,” he says, smiling. He looks to Mayve—who still has her back to me—and then returns his gaze to mine. “You know Mayve?” he asks. When I don’t answer, he takes a step away from her. “She was trying to use the bathroom and was told to leave,” he explains.