Page 52 of Pink Poison

“He made a gentlemen’s agreement with the MC’s president,” I say.

I watch him piece his mask back together, seemingly intrigued by my admission. “A gentleman's agreement?”

“Ouralliancewas made on the agreement that Hill left Stevie out of it,” I explain, hoping like hell that I didn’t just paint a bigger target on her back. “He accepted it.”

He chuckles dramatically, changing his personality on a dime…again.“Well, why didn’t you lead with that? If I had known, I would have relinquished her right away as I am nothing but a man of my word, and I do detest those who do not honor their agreements. Gentleman or otherwise."

Only an idiot would believe or trust him, but if pretending that I do gets blondie away from Hill, I’ll take it. “Then, we have an agreement, yes?”

He smirks, flashing me a glimpse of his inner demon. “After today, I will no longer allow Creed Hill access to Stevie.”

“Don’t play games with me, Lennon,” I seethe.

“You have my word,” he says, relaxing his back against his seat. “Now, about those matters that need the MC’s attention.”

Chapter eighteen

Stevie

Creed’s hand holds steady over my lower back as he leads us through the ridiculously packed club. It seems everyone here is running on the same notion: to release their deepest inhibitions. Since walking through the doors, I’ve seen more dick and tits than I have in the last five years. Okay, maybe that’s an exaggeration, but I have definitely never seen something likethis. On stage last night was one thing. I was far enough from everything that I couldn't pinpoint just one act. It was a sea of bodies, bodies that I wasn't focused on as intently. This, though? It's impossible to miss the individuality. Women sit on their knees, eager to please, while men waltz around—touching one another without question. There seems to be an unspoken agreement that everyone is simplyokaywith it. No, it's more than that. They aren't justokay, they are welcoming the touches—encouraging each other with their sensual murmurs and starved stares.

“Where are we going?” I ask, breaking my perusal.

“I want you to see this club through my eyes,” Creed says with a hint of giddiness woven in his words as he carefully leads me up the staircase. “We'll start up on the third floor and work our way down.” As we reach the second floor, I look towards the stage to see Mae dressed in a sexy, strappy, black lingerie set while she damn near levitates around the pole. In a blink, her thighs are hooked around the steel before she throws her head and arms back, lowering herself head-first to the stage floor. The move has me holding my breath until she safely follows through with a sassy dismount. “She’s a talented one,” Creed muses with far too much interest to be considered comfortable. “Atticus is a lucky man, wouldn’t you agree?”

“She is talented.” I leave the rest of his question unanswered, keeping my opinions of Atticus' marriage to myself.

We continue up the staircase until we’re met with a dark rope blocking further access to the next floor. A hulking man wearing a black t-shirt and slacks stands on the other end of the rope, his expression blank. “Mr. Hill, the viewing room is ready for you.”

“Tell the girls to bring out the champagne,” Creed smarms as he unhooks the rope, allowing us passage to the third floor.

“Right away, sir,” the bouncer concedes as he takes a step backward.

Looping his arm around my waist, Creed leads me down a dark-lit hallway with familiar neon lowlights spilling from overhead. Men and women are gathered in the narrow hallway, entering and exiting rooms where inhuman noises escape from. My stomach clenches, unsure if the sounds are from pleasure or pain as we approach the only room with an open door. “Don’t be shy,” he whispers as he gently pulls me into the room with him.

“What is this?”

The room is on the smaller end, similar to my hotel room with a helluva lot nicer decor. While two of the four walls are neatly decorated with erotic artistry, the wall furthest from the bed is all glass, revealing a different room, the one next to ours. Low light spills from the glass, highlighting the only thing that catches my attention.Oh my God.Hanging from a support beam is a petite woman, completely nude outside of the leather mask covering her head.

“Thisis Le Papillon.” Creeds' words hang in the air, thickening the tension between us far more than it already is. "Well, part of it, anyway."

My tongue dries, unsure of what to make of him bringing me up here. I mean, it doesn't take much to guess what he wants, but I'm naively hopeful that I can get out of this without needing to touch his dick. “I don’t think—”

He cuts me off by steering me to sit at the edge of the bed. “Tonight is all about learning and observing. You see, I am a voyeur. That little display you put on at Memento gave me insight into what you might enjoy.”

Licking my glossy lips, I chance another look through the glass partition before sitting on the bed. The woman hangs steadily, as if she’s been trained to not move…not to breathe. I can’t deny that I'm not curious.I am. I love sex as much as the next girl, but this isn’t something I find myself wanting to experience with a man like Creed Hill—not like this.

“And what do I enjoy?” I ask.

Gently, his fingers tail over my exposed shoulder, stroking my flesh until a shiver rakes through my frame. “I think you enjoy being the center of attention, and that’s not meant to be insulting," he muses. "You’re a stunning woman, and it would be a shame to hide your appeal. I also couldn't help but notice how much you enjoyed havingMaxwell’sfingers buried in your pussy while we all watched.” My heart stutters at the casual mention of Max’s name. I don’t know much about the MC’s business practices, but there’s a reason they all go by their road names.Why didn’the call Max, Mack?“There is no need to pretend with me, angel. I hold no judgment. In fact, I think we could enjoy ourselves today.”

Not wanting to tip him off to my unease, I relax into his touch and offer a sigh of contentment despite my desperate urge to run.Jesus. Get it together, Stevie.“How about that drink? It might help me relax a little since this is all so new to me.”

He moves toward the small end table where two glasses of bubbling alcohol sit. “Excellent choice.”

Accepting the glass he extends to me, I press the cool glass to my lips before swallowing a generous amount of the subtly sweet liquid. The silence between us stretches for minutes, giving me ample time to continue sipping on the drink. Sooner than I think, Creed takes my empty flute, leaving me to stare through the glass partition until the woman strung is the only thing on my mind. Thoughts I've never had in my life filter through my mind, like a quiet voice in the back of my mind egging my imagination to run wild with stray ideas of what the woman smells like—wondering if her voice is as soft as her skin looks and if her taste could quench the burning thirst in the back of my throat. My body ignites, as if it's coming to life for the first time, at the imagery now painted from my wayward thoughts.

A shadow behind the glass pulls my attention as it covers the bound woman. Before I can blink, whomever is with her movesjustenough to reveal silver clamps over the woman’s red, excruciatingly pointed peaks. While I can’t hear her, there's no doubt in my mind that she's making some sort of noise underneath her mask.Was it out of pleasure or pain?Slowly, the darkened, lithe figure moves around the woman. Thick fingers drag over her torso, triggering both mine and her abdomen to contract.What the hell?

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