Page 71 of The Sinner's Sanctuary

That was easy.Andhot. I’m impressed.

I get dressed as instructed and do a smell and hair check before I grab my wallet, phone and keys. I’m looking forward to my two alcoholic drinks.

Only the doormen, Gibson, Marianne, and Emilia have elevator keys to The Penthouse. It feels weird to be using mine for myself. But the elevator ride is fast since it only has the two stops.

When the doors slide open, and the music hits my eardrums, I experience my first thrum of anxiety.

A woman dressed and made up like a doll with red pigtailsand painted-on freckles greets me with a bright smile. “Hi, Christian!”

I blink, trying to place her, and it hits me. Whenever Kelly comes into the building, her short, mousy brown hair is usually pushed back with a headband. She wears large glasses, cardigans, and knee-length skirts. She looks like someone studying to be a librarian, and I assumed she might work in the kitchen or on the housekeeping staff here. The fact that she’s one of the sex workers blows my mind.

“Hello,” I say, feeling out of my depth as usual. Sex clubsreallyaren’t my thing.

“You’ll find Mr. Hayes on the far side of the room, past the amphitheater.”

I nod, looking at the black curtain shielding the club from the vestibule.

“Oh,” she exclaims, and I turn back to her, her eyes almost frighteningly wide. “And this is for you.” She hands over a glass of what looks like whiskey on the rocks. “It’s fresh,” she adds. “The server just brought it out like a minute ago.”

I do my best to keep my face blank, but I’m already overwhelmed. She draws back the curtain, and I’m met with wall-to-wall debauchery.

Scantily clad servers carry trays of drinks and snacks. Immediately to my left, on a bed behind a black veil, a woman is being fucked while a line of half a dozen men watch—or wait to take their turn?

I don’t think I want to know. I look away. On the opposite side of the club, Gibson stands on a raised area in front of where windows should be. Another velvet curtain blacks out the city behind him. His eyes are on me, and I keep mine on him, bypassing the rooms to my left and the amphitheater to my right, weaving through rich people and sex workers.

Gibson is still dressed as he was earlier—in a white button-down, a black silk tie, and black slacks. His tie is loose, though,his top two buttons undone. I notice him swallow as I get closer. His hair is almost as ruffled as it was when he woke from his nap on the couch, but somehow the waves of it frame his forehead perfectly. He shoves his hand through it as he tugs at his lower lip with his teeth.

Can I kiss him here?I fucking want to.

I start up the steps, but he meets me before I get to the top. I tilt my head back slightly to look up at him. He runs his thumb over my cheekbone. “Perfect,” he says.

My mouth goes dry, and my stomach goes haywire, nerves and anticipation bursting like grenades.

“Are you ready?” he asks.

“I—” My attention snaps to a woman kneeling on the floor a few feet behind him. Cat ears…star tattoo. She moves onto all fours and gives her ass a shake.

Gibson follows my gaze. “I mentioned her…” He sounds uncertain.

“Busy guy,” I say, trying not to let his pet’s presence get to me.

“I haven’t touched her since Rome.”

I give him a dubious look.

“Innocent petting only,” he amends.

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me. I’d rather she not be in the room for?—”

“Of course not.” He looks from her to me again. “Shall we?” he asks, like he’s trying to regain control of a situation that’s slipping away.

I meet his eyes and nod.

“Follow me.” He turns to his right, motioning to his kitten-girl to stay put.

She sits back on her heels while I follow him behind a curtain I hadn’t noticed. Some trick of perspective makes it blend in with the curtains over the windows. He punches a code into a lock pad. A buzz sounds, and the bolt inside the door moves. Openingit, he gestures me inside, which is a strange role reversal, but I go with it.

The room isn’t large—or at least, not as huge as I would expect someone like him to have. It’s big enough for a king-sized bed with a padded, leather headboard and footboard. In one corner is a cage large enough to fit a human, which I stare at a moment too long, and on the left side of the room, there’s a piece of furniture whose function eludes me. It’s also covered in leather padding with silver rings all over it.

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