Page 21 of The Club

I head to the elevator and punch in my code.

As soon as we step inside and I key in the floor, Dominic pins me to the wall. His hand grips my throat.

“Don’t think for a second that I don’t know what you were doing tonight. Taunting me. Outing me.”

I swallow against the constriction. “You could’ve blown me off like you did last night.”

“And let other people play with you? I don’t fucking think so. You’re mine to fuck and mine to kill. No one touches you but me.”

My anger over his date night roars back in. “Since when? It didn’t seem that way last night.”

“Last night, you were being a brat and got what you deserved.”

I have so much more to say, but the doors slide open, revealing a space even more personal than my apartment. We’re one floor below it. There’s a door and spiral staircase leading to my bedroom.

Dominic’s head turns and he stares into the play room. Releasing my throat, he draws away from me and walks into the room.

The style is decadent, the wood intensely dark, the furniture red and black. The accent lighting is mostly red, though the gothic chandelier casts a scattering of white light.

Dominic, in his black shirt and pants, with his powerful body and his beautiful face with its ever-present intensity, fits right in.

I exit the elevator. The doors close behind me, their subtle black facing making them all but disappear into the wall.

Dominic makes a slow circuit of the room. His eyes roam over the modern curves of the tantric couches, the padded benches and bondage chair. He takes in the machines with their dildos and remote controls.

He walks past the bed on the far side of the room, notes the door to the stairwell. He takes in the multiple racks of toys and tools and the well-stocked bar. He studies the x-cross with its pump. By the time he comes back to me, his dark eyebrows have drawn down.

I want to smile and tease, to ask him flippantly if he likes it, but I can’t manage it. I just stand there and wait for him to say it.

“You play by yourself here.”

“Mostly.”

“Why?”

I shrug and try to step past him. He grabs me and swings me toward the x-cross, making me face it. He kicks the back of my leg. My knees hit the floor. Fisting my hair, he crouches behind me, forcing me to stare at the dildo attached to the thrusting mechanism. The control panel for the machine and for the electronically triggered restraints are obviously set near where my hand would be. Where my hand often is.

I lost some of my erection when Dominic first started walking around, but my body responds to the familiar machine—and to Dominic’s rough handling.

“Why?” he repeats.

“I don’t have to tell you.”

He reaches around to palm my dick through my white pants. “Does no one fuck you right?”

The few men I’ve brought here have thought the room was hot. They’ve loved it. They’ve never questioned it.

They’ve never understood it.

Dominic does.

“You need it hard, don’t you? You need to be used.”

A breath stutters into my lungs.

Dominic keeps going. “You need someone to hurt you.”

I swallow hard. He’s almost there.

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