Total pages in book: 147
Estimated words: 140742 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 704(@200wpm)___ 563(@250wpm)___ 469(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 140742 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 704(@200wpm)___ 563(@250wpm)___ 469(@300wpm)
I don’t love the sound of that, but I grab a mask. Tate and Mallory follow suit. We follow Mallory down the hall to the massive ornate silver doors that look like they belong in a castle. Even though the club is exclusive and they’ve already run background checks, they make us go through a metal detector and check our bags into lockers. Once we’re done, two people dressed like cats push the doors open and lead us inside.
4
JOSSLYN
The lights are dim, but unlike a regular nightclub, there are no strobe lights or a visible DJ, though music is playing. The middle is an open square that has strips of aerial silk with performers twisted around them. Naked performers. Well, they appear to be naked, anyway, and are somehow coordinating their seductive movements with the music playing.
“It’s a lot like the one my cousin owns downtown,” Mallory says as we walk. “But theirs is child's play in comparison. If you’re looking for a specific kink, this is the place to be. Some can be intense, which is why you signed all those waivers.”
Anticipation rolls through me as we walk down the hall, and I reach for Tate’s hand again. He’s weird about hand-holding, but he lets me as Mallory opens another beautiful door. My grip on his hand gets tighter when we step inside and there’s a full-on orgy with at least fifteen people on display. There’s EDM music playing in here, but it does nothing to drown out the moans, slaps, and screams. My entire body heats up from the sounds alone.
I glance up at Tate, whose eyes are glossy as he looks at them. He licks his lips and lets go of my hand. He’s still looking at them when he says, “I’m going to the bar. You want something?”
I shake my head and keep staring at the scene in front of us when he walks away. I find myself taking a step forward, fascinated by everything they’re doing. Admittedly, my sexual experience is fairly limited, but even if I was experienced, I don’t think I’d be prepared for that. I watch the three closest to me. A guy with a porn-worthy penis is sucking a woman’s nipples while the man behind him kisses his neck. They’re both thrashing, begging for more. It’s intense.
“You can join,” Mallory says, her breath in my ear making me jolt. She laughs and sets a hand on my waist, pulling me toward her as she stands beside me. “There aren’t many rules, which is what I like, and they keep it simple with the different colored wristbands.”
I look at my bands—one white and one red. I hadn’t realized we weren’t all wearing the same ones. “What do these mean?”
“White means you need to ask about relationship status, so that’ll be the first question they ask you.” Her eyes sparkle as she brings her face closer to mine. “The red means safeword, so, well, do with that what you will. They used all of the questions you answered to pick the right colors for each of us.”
“Oh.”
I look at hers. One red, and the other white with black stripes. Then at Livie, who only has a red one. Devon’s is the same. I look around until I spot Tate at the bar, smiling at something the woman pouring drinks is saying. I can’t see his from here, but I think I remember what he had. I glance at Mal’s arm again.
“What does white with black stripes mean?”
“Threesome, or rather, multiples, but most people just go with threesomes.” She tears her gaze from me and looks at the scene in front of us. “Or this.”
“Oh.” I turn back to the orgy in front of us.
She’d told me recently that she liked to experiment, but I didn’t think she meant this. She’s Mallory Barlow, and while she may not have been born into that family, it doesn’t make her any less one of them. They’re always so … proper. Mal is definitely the black sheep, but even still, she doesn’t publicly do anything that’ll bring shame to her family name.
A wave of heat sears through me when I glance at Tate again and get a glimpse of the white and black band on his arm. I bite my tongue for just a second. I don’t understand how someone can go from begging for me to give a serious relationship with him a real shot, and talking about marriage in the freaking lobby, to wanting a threesome and telling me to go “have fun.”
“What’s wrong?” Mal asks, gripping my waist.
I bite back a laugh and look around quickly to see if I spot Olivia. I don’t, but I know she would probably be laughing her ass off if she could see me. She swears Mallory has a crush on me—which is ridiculous—and told me I shouldn’t show her too much affection. Which is also ridiculous and not the easiest thing for me to do. I come from a long line of people whose love language is touch. For us, hugs, kisses on the cheek, and hand-holding are natural. With friends, with partners, with parents. It’s just how we are. And Mallory, well, she’s starved for affection.