Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 80572 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80572 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Shaking, I look back and see a woman bent over a… wooden bench? I stare at the wall behind her, displaying all manner of things I’ve only seen in a stable. A riding crop. A short whip. Something like a wooden stick. I watch, my jaw unhinged, as a man wearing all black removes the short leather strap and returns to the woman. Her hands are tied at the wrists and her feet at the ankles.
I gasp when he strikes her.
“He’s hurting her!”
And Sergio lets this happen? He just sits here, letting this man hurt this woman? How could he—
“Watch.”
My stomach’s in knots while I do exactly what he says.
The man’s hand’s on her lower back.
“Listen, Eden.”
He presses another button on the remote and the sound of voices and music stream from hidden speakers, making it seem like I’m standing right there in the room beside them. It feels wrong, like I’m staring into the privacy of a bedroom.
“Do they know we’re watching them?”
Another of his laughs sends shivers to my toes. “Of course. That room isn’t private.”
“If it isn’t private, then why the wall?”
“It distracts me, and I need to work.”
“Can’t imagine why it would distract you,” I mutter.
My belly dips when he flexes his hand on my hip.
“Watch and listen, baby.”
Baby.
“Look at what a good girl you are.” It takes me a second to realize the person speaking is the man wielding the leather. “Such a good girl,” he says, as he strokes his hand over her leather-clad butt. “You can take this and so much more. Doing exactly what I say.”
The next slap goes to her inner thighs. I can see her shudder and hear her moan as he spreads her legs. My heart beats madly and a strange, heavy sensation blossoms between my thighs.
The sound of clicking metal draws my attention to the left of that couple to where one person is strapping another to a wooden X.
Oh gosh. Whoa.
It’s hard to know where to look next. One couple after another are engaging in all sorts of things I’ve never thought about before. One woman’s tied up on a stage in an intricacy of ropes as if she’s been woven by a master’s hand. There’s a man kneeling at a woman’s feet with a look of utter adulation on his face, and yet another over a man’s lap.
“Punishment is something to be hated and avoided,” I say, shaking my head, only because I can’t really make sense of it all. “I don’t understand.”
“It depends on what the infraction is and who’s in charge of discipline. But I know you have a history. I saw your bruises.” I hear him swallow and clear his throat. “And that’s the only reason why you aren’t over my knee.”
Why does the image of him doing that make my belly dip and swirl, my heart threaten to beat out of my chest?
I should hate that.
I can’t let myself go from one abusive situation to another.
But then I refocus on one of the first couples I noticed and see the look of utter bliss on the woman’s face. I stare. I sit up straighter.
Wait a minute.
“I know her!”
“Who?”
“The woman on that bench. Oh my goodness!” I get to my feet. “Her name’s Quinn. We rode here on the bus together. I have to go see her!”
His strong, warm fingers grip me tighter.
“We’re not done here, and it’s strictly against club regulations for you to enter that room. You’d be interrupting a scene, and only vetted members are allowed down there.”
My heart sinks. I’ve just seen the only friend I’ve ever had in my life other than my sister, and I can’t just let her get away.
“But she’s my friend, Sergio,” I say, my voice wobbly.
“I’ll alert one of my men to make sure we ask her before she leaves if it’s okay for us to share her contact information. We can even try to see if she’ll stay long enough to see you, though she might be leaving with her partner. How did you meet?”
I turn toward him, comfortable in the crook of his arm, his eyes so intense up this close.
I tell him everything.
“Ah, I see. Interesting. I’ll make sure you get to talk to her. But tell me, Eden.”
I look up at him, my heart doing all sorts of strange things in my chest as he asks, “What can I do to make you feel safe?"
I can tell that he’s holding himself back from saying what he wants, doing what he wants, like he's afraid it's going to hurt me. And while I know I should be honored that he doesn't want to hurt me, at the same time it makes me a little… hurt. Like he thinks I’m fragile and breakable.
If he only knew how wrong he is.
I hold my anger back though, because I'm the one that's in the wrong, and he's doing everything he can not to overstep. And there is a part of me that loves that.