Chapter 1
‘Make mine a double vodka.’
I deliver my order to the cute bartender with a flirtatious smile. He returns it, a dimple flashing in his left cheek.
‘Coming right up,’ he says, and winks. I clock the metal hoop through his nose and the bar through his eyebrow, and the dark tribal tatts peeking up from the collar of his bar uniform. The look is giving bad boy.
Mmm. Maybe I’ll put dibs on this one for later.
Whilst he’s making my drink I lean against the bar, checking out everything that’s going on in the nightclub around me.
Under low, strobing lights, partygoers dressed in skimpy leather are dancing, grinding, making out. A deep bass throbs from the speakers. Dry ice pours from vents, masking some of the more explicit goings-on. Sex is everywhere, the scent of it hanging heavy in the air. It’s enough to make my pussy pulsate.
It’s dark and dangerous. Just how I like it, and exactly why I come to Hell on a Thursday, when Fetish Night is running and anything goes.
I’m alone tonight, a hunter looking for prey. I’m amped up, horny as fuck after today’s intense business meeting. I have my own business and I’m close to being a self-made millionaire, all before I turn 30 next month. I work hard, but I play hard too. All the wheeling and dealing in boardrooms and negotiations with asshole middle-aged white guys who assume a pretty young blonde like me has candyfloss between her ears despite all evidence to the contrary, leaves me hungry for a stress release.
I need to find a way to burn off the energy that’s gathered in my body and right now is throbbing low in my clit.
For a second, I think about someone taking my swollen clit into their mouth and sucking on the tender flesh, and my horniness increases tenfold. I need it, and I need it now.
My thoughts are interrupted by the bartender giving me his dimpled smile again and placing my drink on the counter between us with a flourish.
He really is cute. And I think he might be the one to give me just what I’m looking for.
‘Vodka, straight up,’ he says. His eyes don’t leave mine.
‘Thank you, darling.’ I take the drink from him, holding his gaze. Then I knock it back in one, my cherry-red lips leaving a bright lip-stain on the glass. I barely flinch when the vodka hits the back of my throat, savoring the burning sensation.
‘Thirsty?’ He quirks an eyebrow, his gaze moving to my mouth.
I smile wolfishly, and make a show of running my tongue over my lips. Plumped to perfection, they’re one of my best features and I know for a fact that most men can’t help but imagine them wrapped around their cock. From the way his eyes darken a few shades, I know he’s thinking of the very thing.
‘Very. It’s been a long day.’
He leans forward, reading all my cues correctly. His shirt falls open a little and I spy the smooth, muscled planes of his chest, also covered in tattoos. ‘I don’t usually do this,’ he says. ‘But you’re beautiful. Could I have your number?’
I lean in too, enjoying the way his gaze drops lower still, from my mouth to my impressive cleavage. Barely contained in a skimpy leather bustier, my nipples are straining to be freed and I know he can clearly make them out through the material. When I feel his eyes on them, they harden, pushing against the fabric.
‘Maybe,’ I tease. ‘But I think we can do better than that. When are you next on a break?’
His eyes flash, the pupils dilating when he realises he might be having sex with me, and soon. ‘In fifteen.’
‘Perfect. You ever use any of the Play Rooms out back?’
He swallows, looking a little nervous. The Play Rooms are only for clients looking for serious kink. ‘I’ve never tried them.’
The smiles stretches even wider across my face. ‘Then let me introduce you to them. Meet me in the Red Room in fifteen minutes.’
