Page 58 of Riot's Thorn
“It’s easy. Just hold on and you should be fine. Also, keep your feet on the pegs.” He swings his leg over the shiny beast of a bike. “Oh, and assume everything is hot, so don’t touch anything.”
My nerves grow with the introduction of rules, but I also feel exhilarated. I’m going to ride a motorcycle. It’s unreal. “Just don’t go fast, okay?”
He pins me with a look that says,“I’m a badass biker and don’t know the meaning of not going fast.”Right. Okay. Point taken. He holds out a hand to help me climb on, then places my feet on the pegs, reminding me for a second time not to move them.
The roar of the engine is almost deafening when he starts it up, and the rumble of the exhaust vibrates through me. I rest my hands on Riot’s hips, but that’s apparently not good enough because he reaches behind and grips my ass. With a sharp tug, he pulls me until my front is flush with his back, then he takes my hands and wraps them around his middle.
Not that I’m complaining.
My breath stutters as he takes off down the road, and laughter erupts from me. It’s like a roller coaster, only without a safety harness. He glides us in and out of traffic on the highway, but I don’t once feel unsafe. His confidence in handling this beast of a vehicle is obvious.
We head toward Storey County, where prostitution is legal. There was a lot of press when the Honey Pot opened because they were catering to a different clientele than other brothels in the area. I remember reading about luxury-themed rooms and red carpet service from the most beautiful women in the world, not just Reno. It was both scandalous and groundbreaking. But after that initial buzz, I forgot it existed.
But now that I’m thinking about it again, I’m thrilled to know I’ll have the chance to tour the facility. There’s a little bubble of excitement in my belly that stems from getting to witness something forbidden and taboo. I spend the ride out there wondering what it’ll be like. Will there be a bunch of naked women walking around? Are there male prostitutes too?
I don’t have to wonder for long because before I know it, we’re pulling up front, and Riot is stopping at a closed gate. Forged between the wrought iron scrollwork is a beautiful pin-up style woman with an H and P in calligraphy on either side. I recognize the image from their branding.
He punches in a code and the gate opens, but not before I notice the camera hanging above us swinging our way. They don’t mess around with security. I knew they employed the men from the club to keep watch, since Riot told me he takes shifts here, but this is next level.
We pull into a different world, or at least that’s what it feels like. Gone is the barren, brown desert as we enter what I’d describe as a Garden of Eden oasis. There’s a circular drive with a large stone fountain of a woman in the center. As we near the parking reserved for motorcycles, I realize the fountain isn’t just of a woman. It’s a naked woman with one hand covering a breast, the other covering her core, and the water trickling from between her legs. I shake my head. There’s no doubt in my mind a man thought of that one.
Surrounding us are lush plants and trees that must draw in every bird in a thirty-mile radius because when the engine of the bike cuts off, it sounds like an aviary. It’s peaceful and has the feel of a high-end day spa, but I get the feeling that vibe will be gone once we enter.
After unclipping my helmet and setting it down on the seat, Riot pushes my glasses up my nose and runs his fingers throughmy hair with a serious expression on his face. Then he looks me up and down, brushing my arms off.
“Making sure I’m presentable?” I ask.
“What?” He shakes his head. “No. Don’t give a fuck about that. Just returning you to how you were before we left.”
I give him a lop-sided grin he doesn’t see but hopefully feels. I don’t even know why I asked him, because I know he doesn’t care about appearances. However, he does have an exacting attention to detail, and I find it endearing he’s using his talents to put me back to rights.
“Thank you.”
“Come on.”
I can’t help but notice every little detail, like the bees etched into the brick walkway and the honey pot planters that hold beautiful flowers. After stopping for the third time to look at something, Riot sighs and takes my hand to pull me along. Apparently, he’s not a “stop and smell the roses” kind of guy. That tracks.
He holds the door open for me, and I go from the light, breezy vibe outside to something darker and sultry inside. I blink a few times, adjusting to the dim lighting of what I think is a parlor. Everything about this room creates a mood. The decor screams expensive, with two tufted leather sofas facing one another and an antique coffee table between them.
The walls are painted in a rich emerald green with dark trim and are adorned with paintings of naked men and women of all ethnicities, sizes, and couplings imaginable. They’re both erotic and classy. Whoever their interior designer is absolutely killed it.
The ambiance is exquisite, and sultry music is playing quietly enough to allow for conversations but also loud enough to drown out those conversations from anyone walking by. The heavy beats inspire movement through dance and, obviously,otheractivities.
“Do they remind you of anything?” Riot asks when I make him stop to look at a grouping of paintings.
“Actually, yes. I have similar paintings hanging on my bedroom walls.”
“That’s what they reminded me of too.”
I narrow my eyes for a second until I remember he’s been in my room. “I forgot you’ve seen them.”
“I was surprised.”
“Why?”
“You come across as very innocent.”
“I was until you got ahold of me.” I give him a push with my elbow, letting him know I’m joking.
