Page 42 of Captive Mafia Wife

I’m taking her to the private sex club in Inverness to have my way with her. I want to show her that I am fun and have a wild side, even if it differs from hers. I don’t drink. Don’t dance. But I know how to show a woman a good time.

Of course, me being me, I’d already pre-arranged the room we’d be using, and before they left for their St. Andy’s Day parties, I sent my staff to clean, disinfect, and provide me with implements from my own home.

See?

Good clean fun.

We enter the underground club to the thrum of fast-paced music, the scent of sex mingled with sandalwood.

Freya looks radiant in the dim lighting, her blonde hair dancing around her shoulders, illuminated by the flickering lights and lasers. She’s chosen a bright red, sleeveless minidress that hugs her body, lipstick in a matching red. Her pale skin glows with a natural radiance, her classic beauty turning heads as we walk in.

As we make our way through the crowd, I can't help but notice the reactions from the other patrons. They clearly understand that Freya is not just another woman to be admired but a goddess among mere mortals. It's intoxicating to be seen with her, as if you gain status as a man just by being seen with her.

I take her hand in mine, feeling the warmth of her skin and the pulsing energy that seems to emanate from her very being. She looks up at me, her eyes wide and curious. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

“I thought I was the stuffy one,” I tease.

Her eyes dart around the club as she takes in the crowd. “I’ve…um…I’ve never done anything like this.”

"Ready for an adventure?" I ask, my voice a low murmur.

She looks at me with fear and excitement. A smile slowly creeps onto her face as she squeezes my hand and nods. "Let's do it," she says, her voice barely above a whisper.

We make our way to the heart of the crowd, the pulsating music getting louder and more intense as we approach. The energy is palpable, the rhythm of the music fueling the bodies that sway and grind against each other.

I guide Freya toward a dark corner, away from the main dance floor. I press her against the wall, my body crashing against hers. "Are you sure about this?" I ask, my lips brushing against her ear.

"I trust you," she says, clutching onto my shirt.

I pull her closer, our bodies pressed against each other, every inch of her soft and warm against my touch. Heat radiates from her body, along with her nervous energy, her arousal.

I don’t dance but I’ve been told I kiss like a god.

I press my mouth to hers. It's like an electric current flowing through us both. She melts into the kiss, her fingers clutching my shirt as if she wants to pull me even closer, her long nails brushing against my skin. She murmurs into my mouth, “God damn, you know how to make a girl’s knees go weak.”

The woman can rule a courtroom, a place where I’m sure I’d clam up. Here, in the club, my blood heats, my curiosity piqued. She’s out of her element. She needs me. I feel myself getting lost in the music and the rhythm of our tongues. The music and energy connect us on a deeper level.

I break our kiss to lock eyes with her, the intensity of the need in her gaze making my heart race. For a moment, we stand there, lost in each other's gaze, our bodies still pressed against each other. We’re in our own world in the corner of the crowded club.

Finally, I say, “Are you ready to enter a room?”

“I don’t know,” she admits. “What’s in the rooms?”

“Depends on what you choose.”

“What are the options?” she asks.

“One, two or three,” I say.

“You want me to choose?” she squeaks.

“Yes.” I run the pad of my thumb over her bottom lip. “You seal your own fate.”

I love the look of trust in her eyes as she stares up at me. “And I don’t get to know what’s behind the door before I choose?”

I lean in, nipping her earlobe. “Now, what would be the fun in that, princess?”

“Fine.” She takes a shaky breath. “I choose…one.”

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