Page 80 of Callback
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Marly
Once I cleanedmyself up, I followed Jude out of the room and shut the door, locking up behind me. “Is this safe? Going out in public tonight?” I tugged at my wig, making sure it was secure and pulled some of the dark bangs further down on my eyes. Nerves smacked around in my belly. What if someone recognized me?
His smirk climbed as he lifted my hand and dropped a kiss to my knuckle. “Don’t worry, Poppy. I checked with our bouncer, Pete, not too long ago and he assured me it was a quiet night. And if it gets busy, we’ll come back upstairs.”
Jude’s hand trailed across the small of my back as he guided me down the stairs. His touch sizzled against the slim strip of bare skin that peeked between my corset and the skirt. I was still hot from before; itchy and unsatisfied and so freaking wet, that I could feel my arousal dripping between my legs. As we approached a door at the end of the hall, the thumping music grew louder and louder, until I could feel it vibrating against my toes. I breathed in deep as the door swung open and I was finally met with a room other than the one I had been quarantined to. I understood why, of course… I couldn’t just go walking around Los Angeles with Jude without speculations and tabloids popping their pictures. But it was a bit imprisoning.
Jude nodded to the bouncer—Pete, I guess. He was a massive man, whose arm was the size of my waist. Taking my hand, Jude laced his fingers with mine.
From over his shoulder, he sent me a smirk, eyes roving down my body. As we descended the hall, Jude’s hold curved tighter around my waist, pulling me close into his side. Our steps fell in sync with one another’s as his thumb circled my hip bone.
The hum of chatter and blaring music grew louder with each passing step and the hallway filtered into the dark club. A horror movie played on huge flat screens above the bar. A dance floor writhed with a small group of bodies clad in leather and lace. My feet cemented to the floor as I scanned the room, wide-eyed. “Holy shit,” I said, on an exhale. In a weird way,thiswas more shocking than the public flogging.
Jude waited patiently, his hand still claiming my left hip. “Wild, right?”
“Yeah, but not more than the other night. So why does this seem so much more intimidating?”
“That happened to me the first time I explored the private areas, then came back out to the public club. I’m not sure why, but I think we just get so used to the privacy upstairs—and how small the crowd is, that coming back down here is jarring. Even on a quiet night.”
“This is a quiet night?” I had to practically shout to be heard over the music. Then again, I could see what Jude meant—it was dark with strobe lights flashing on the dance floor. It was hard to see Jude right here in front of me, let alone for someone else to recognize us from farther away.
“Are all these people…” I stepped closer into his side, finding comfort in Jude. “Are they all BDSM folks, too?”
He shook his head. “No, probably not. They’re most likely people who dabble and enjoy edgy without actually moving into a lifestyle. Which is fine… there’s room in the community for all types.”
On the side of the dance floor was a cage with a Dita Von Teese style pin-up dancer inside. She shed her jeweled corset, then placing a full glass of champagne on her head, continued with the dance, not spilling a drop. “What do we do now?” Our bodies were pressed flush together. Though I wasn’t sure if that was a result of the crowded club or our own doing. He didn’t seem to mind. He angled his face down, his breath warm against my lips.
“We get a drink.”
I grinned. “We? Does that mean I can have a bourbon?”
He matched my smile. “If you ask really nicely,” he said.
“May I please get a bourbon?” I nibbled my sore bottom lip, directly on the spot that Jude bit, not thirty minutes earlier, loving the dull snap of pain. His mark. Branding me as his. I knew I should have added a Sir to that, but God, I wanted his hand on my ass. I wanted to feel his punishment, maybe even slightly more than I wanted to please him tonight. The thought was so thrilling and terrifying all at once, that I was willing to act out in the hopes of some attention—like a toddler. That’s what this stupid delayed gratification shit was doing to me. Turning me into freaking BenjaminaButton.
Despite the fact that I withheld the ‘Sir,’ I felt his approving hiss all the way down to my toes. Hooking a finger under my chin, he lifted my eyes to his, locking into my stare. His arousal pressed against me and I wanted to close my eyes; to disappear beneath that chilling gaze of his. “Add a ‘Sir’ onto that question and you’ve got a deal,” he murmured, appearing lost in his own thoughts.
I took a breath. “May I please get a bourbon,Sir?” Why was a three-letter word so powerful? Even as I said it, the chill crept through my veins, halting my blood flow like a frost sweeping over a field. Through the leather corset, my breasts tingled and I was certain my nipples were hardened peaks beneath the restrictive fabric.
Jude wasn’t smiling, but his eyes flashed as I said the word. His breath turned shallow and his full lips parted in approval. “You may. I have a tab here—just put it under my name.”
“And what would you like?” As if I needed to ask.
“Martini, straight—”
“—up, dry with extra olives?” I finished the thought for him with a smirk.
He nodded slowly, that one dimple appearing below his creased eye. “That’s right.”
And with that, he leaned in, gently brushing his lips across mine in a kiss so gentle, the tenderness of it skated across my skin leaving goosebumps in its wake.
*
Three bourbons andten songs later, I was on the dance floor with Jude pressed against me. Sweat dripped down the back of my neck, the fake dark hair sticking to my skin. The DJ took residency in the corner of a stage, four feet up from the floor. A spotlight popped on center stage as a curtain pulled back, revealing the Dita Von Teese look-alike dancer wearing retro panties and pasties. She had a massively large feather fan and managed to keep herself covered in a vintage burlesque dance.
Jude hugged me closer, moving in rhythm to the slow, crooning beat. His hand roamed down my hip to the edge of my skirt, his fingertips brushing my skin. A breath croaked in my throat as I tightened against him.
