Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 73880 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73880 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
“Yeah, good call. But how will we navigate around here?”
I can only see part of his face, illuminated by a faint stream of moonlight. “I have an idea.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Timeo
“Okay, where are we?”
I can’t tell if she’s excited or nervous or on edge when I bring her into the room. I haven’t been in this one before. I’ve not done many things here at the club. She might be freaked out about Eden working here but my brother owns it. My older brother, who was a pseudo-father to me when my own father passed, who taught me how to drive and shoot a gun and put a fucking condom on.
But if there’s anything that’s clear now, it’s that we’re alone.
“This is the room for wax play,” I tell her, clearing my throat. “I haven’t been in here before, but I’ve heard about it.”
“So you guys have like…themed rooms.”
It’s hard to see the expression on her face in the dark, and I can’t quite tell if she’s interested and excited or… scared.
“Yeah, and it isn’t my club. I’m not you guys.” 1
She snorts. “It’s the Montavio Brotherhood’s club. What do you think people expect?”
I don’t answer. I’m searching around the room for what I know to be here. I haven’t ever brought a woman in here but I’ve restocked it and done surveillance here before. I was always fascinated with wax play.
“Ah, there it is.” My fingers wrap around a box of long fireplace matches nestled in a cylinder with a lid. I scratch one and it flames to life. In front of me is a row of candles.
“Ooooh.” Starla watches curiously as I light the tallest white pillar candle. “This place is amazing.”
I hold the candle up and survey what she sees. Like the previous room, it’s sensually decorated, but unlike the other, it also contains various comfortable furnishings— mats, a queen-sized bed, padded tables. That’s not where she looks, though. Her eyes settle on the dimly lit row of wax-play equipment neatly lined in rows— massage candles, wax melting pots and trays, other candles of every shape and size, and large hearthside matches.
“What’s that?” she asks, pointing to a red box in the corner.
“First aid kit, looks like.”
Her brows rise. “Wow. Just like…right there. In the open. What did you call this?”
“The wax play room. Meant to have ambiance, yeah, but more than that, it’s got candles specifically suited for wax play.”
Starla’s eyes widen but she doesn’t respond. Shivering, she wraps her arms around herself. “Any of those candles throw heat?”
“Yeah, we’re gonna have to figure out a way to keep ourselves warm.”
Ten minutes later, we’re surrounded by lit candles lined up in a semi-circle around us. The combined light illuminates the room so well I can see everything now. Starla runs her fingers along the gold edges of the candlesticks, the metal grooves of the trays, and the velvet-covered table in the corner.
“They have blankets ready in the closet, I know that because I’ve been the one to restock them.”
“Why blankets?”
“Some people get cold and shivery after a hard, intense session.”
Her brow draws together. “I…see.”
She doesn’t.
If I have my way, she will.
“You can’t exactly roast marshmallows here, but I feel a little heat.”
“Yeah, we’ll need more than that. Let’s find those blankets.”
We peruse the room and find a hell of a lot more than we bargained for.
“Oh, my,” Starla says when she opens a wooden box filled with items suitable for impact play. Turning to face me, her eyes are lit up by the flickering candles. “If you’d used these, I probably would’ve had, uh…other things to do with my hands.”
She’s holding a pair of nipple clamps in each hand.
A corner of my lips quirks up. “Give ‘em here.”
“Oh, not so fast,” she says, leaning over to look through the others. “I fancy purple, you know, and the pink ones are delightful. Ow!”
Unfortunately for her, I’m standing next to a box of paddles, canes, and straps. The stout wooden paddle gets her attention pretty quickly.
“You planning on talking back to me when I have a bevy of implements next to me, hot wax at my fingertips, and a table with restraints?”
“Well, I wasn’t exactly planning—wait! Where? The table has restraints?”
I give her another sharp crack of the paddle and she jumps.
“Starla.”
“Fine,” she says on a sigh, though I can tell she’s enjoying every minute of this by the way her eyes go half-lidded and seductive. Swallowing, she hands me the clamps. “Maybe I should use those on you.”
“That’s it,” I say with mock chagrin. “Now you’ve done it.”
The wind howls outside as I reach for her wrists. “You really, really want me to dominate you, don’t you?
I hold her gaze as I slowly remove every stitch of her clothing.
“Not when we don’t— we don’t have—protection,” she breathes as I kiss along her neck and backpedal her until she reaches the table.