Page 27 of Meet Me In The Dark

Just in case.

“Let's go save them,” he repeated, more promise than wish, and got in the car.

8

Of all the places Kara thought she'd return to one day with Micah, Vixen, Marcus's sex club for the wealthiest of the wealthy, was not it. The last time she’d been here, the whole club had been blown up—yet here it was, new but not particularly improved. The nondescript stone entryway, the gleaming walnut walls, the large, scarred security guards: none of it had changed. No, she’d never thought she’d see it again. Yet here she was, the night after her confrontation and reunion with Micah, in a tight leather skirt and matching leather bustier, and short chunky-heeled biker girl boots, his hand at her back, standing at the entrance as the hostess looked them over warily.

“You don't have a reservation, Mr. Feldman.”

He straightened, winking at her. “I don't need one. You know that, Annabelle.”

She blushed prettily. “Of course, Mr. Feldman.”

Kara, who had much more important things to be worried about than a little hostess who had a crush on her lover, was possessed by the urge to drag the woman awayfrom Micah by her hair, and maybe bang her head against the reception desk just to get the point across. She didn't love that she had such violently possessive thoughts, but damn it, he was hers, and flirting with other people outside of their closed polycule and being flirted with? That was off limits.

So Kara turned to Micah and fussed with his collar. He grinned at her, leaning in to whisper in her ear.

“Jealous?”

“Damn right I am,” she whispered back. “The rule is they can look but can't touch, remember? Well, she wants to touch.”

He kissed her lightly. “No one's touching me tonight but you.”

Annabelle straightened, clearing her throat, all business again. “Right this way, Mr. Feldman. And...”

“You don't need to know my name,” Kara said. They hadn't bothered to come up with a new identity for her—she’d been made as Maya—so she was going incognito for now.

“Of course, ma'am.” Annabelle lifted one delicate shoulder. “I'm sure you know the rules. No photos, and no weapons. Otherwise, anything goes.”

Of course.

As Annabelle led them through the club to the main dining room, Kara glanced around at the naked people fucking in restaurant booths and on the burgundy leather chesterfields. A man was on his hands and knees on an Aubusson rug, sucking one man’s cock while a third man fucked him in the ass. On a table in one of the restaurant booths, a woman played with her nipples while a man thrust into her mouth. Last time, the sex vibes had beenoverwhelming, this time, she was more or less numb to them. Eye on the prize, and all that.

“Doesn’t Marcus realize that bare hardwoods would mean a cheaper cleaning bill?” she asked Micah.

Micah chuckled. “I’m sure he thinks the rugs and carpets are an essential part of the décor.”

They reached a booth, and Kara slid in. Micah followed her.

“I'll go get your server,” Annabelle said, and then departed.

Micah nipped Kara's neck. “I know it's terrible timing, but being here is giving me some fucking hot flashbacks, baby.”

“Yeah.” Kara inhaled, remembering crawling under a gleaming table just like this, and had to cross her legs to stifle the way her pussy pulsed. “But it feels wrong.”

Micah raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Because our men are suffering, and?—”

“I'm glad you call themourmen now,” he remarked.

Kara dismissed that with a wave of her hand. They were her men, she'd acknowledged that to herself a long time ago. Around the time she was locked in a cell, convinced she was going to die without seeing them again. Although damn, did Micah not know? Had she not made her feelings clear? No wonder he took so much pleasure in seeing her jealous. Or was he manipulating her into sharing her feelings more openly?

And why did she find that endearing?

She softened, letting herself be vulnerable. “They are our men. You’re my man, too.”

“Yours?” he asked.

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