Page 6 of More Than We Know

As the night wears on, the initial shock of seeing Kat again begins to fade, replaced by a comfortable familiarity. We laugh and reminisce, and I find myself relaxing into the easy intimacy we used to share. Quentin laughs right along with us as Kat regales him with stories—thankfully mild ones—of our past.

After a couple drinks and over an hour of us talking, Quentin leans in to speak in my ear so only I can hear. “Should we head to the back rooms?” His voice is low and suggestive, and a pleasant shiver runs through me. It’s what we came here to do, after all.

“Sure,” I say, but my heart sinks at the thought of walking away from Kat. I glance over at her and can’t help but remember the way she used to kiss me, the way she never shied away from telling me how much I meant to her.

Losing her the first time was the most painful heartbreak I’ve ever felt, and I don’t think I can walk away again without putting out some sort of lifeline.

“One second,” I tell Quentin. “I’m going to give Kat my phone number.”

He nods. “That’s a great idea. Maybe she can join your brunch group with the girls.”

“Right.” The idea of introducing Kat as just a friend to the other women feels weird, though I can’t exactly explain why. We can still be just friends… right?

“Quentin and I are going to the back,” I tell Kat. “But here.” I pull out my phone and create a new contact, then hand her my phone so she can type in her number. Once she does, I send her a text so she has my number as well.

“Have fun,” Kat says when I turn to leave. “I hope I’ll see you around.” I might be imagining things with the lights flashing around the room, but I swear she winks at me. Butterflies take flight in my stomach, and I bite back a smile as I follow Quentin through the black door on the back wall.

The hallway is dimly lit, but it’s still so familiar that I could probably find my way with my eyes closed. We linger in the hall with a few others and watch a couple through one of the windows that gives a view into their private room. The woman is stripping slowly as the man sits on the edge of the bed stroking his cock while watching her. It’s slow and sensual, and it doesn’t take long before the ache of need between my legs becomes unbearable.

“Let’s get our own room,” I whisper to Quentin.

He nods in agreement and guides me down the hall until we find an uninhabited room with a window to the hall.

We’ve always liked being watched, and I’m glad to see that his preferences haven’t changed.

As if reading my mind, he asks, “You okay with this room?”

“Yes.” I don’t tell him that I’m even more excited about the idea of being watched than I have been in quite a while.

Quentin locks the door before setting his gaze on me and stalking toward me with intense desire in his eyes.

“Turn around.”

That edge of authority in his tone shoots straight to my core, and I follow his command without a word, turning to face the back wall.

Quentin’s fingertips graze the back of my neck before he slowly pulls the zipper of my dress down, and he trails his fingers down my spine where the fabric parts, over the lace of the lingerie. Once the zipper is fully down, I slip my arms from the sleeves and the dress falls to the floor, the fabric pooling at my feet.

I step out of the dress, kicking it aside, and Quentin's eyes rake over my body when I turn toward him.

He cocks an eyebrow. “You dressed up for me.”

“Do you like it?”

“I love it. You look fucking incredible.”

I smile at his praise and stand before him, waiting for his next instructions with my hands clasped behind my back. At home, he often still takes control in the bedroom, but not to the degree he does here. At Club Caliber, the atmosphere—and often the excitement of knowing people may be watching on the other side of the window—amps up every element of our sex life, including his dominance and my submission.

Quentin steps closer, his hands skimming over my lace-covered curves as he presses his body against mine and kisses me hard. He threads his fingers through my hair and tugs lightly, and I moan into his mouth as I melt into him.

“I’ve missed this,” he whispers when he finally pulls away.

“So have I.”

His hands slide down my back to cup my ass, which he squeezes before giving me a devious smile. “Ready to give them a show?” He gestures toward the window. I glance at it out of instinct, knowing I won’t be able to see any faces, but I detect movement in the dark.

Who knows how many people might be watching—orwhomight be watching…

I nod, and Quentin spins me around to face the window and presses his body against my back. He’s already hard, and his cock presses against my ass as he snakes his arms to my front, pulls the straps off my shoulders, and peels the lacy fabric down my body until my breasts are exposed. When he flicks his thumbs over my nipples, I let my head fall back in the crook of his neck as my eyes close.

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