Page 77 of Triple Pucked
Guilt swirls in my stomach.
I’m not a liar. I hate hiding this from my lovers.
“Then I’ll win the game for you, love,” I promise.
Robyn smiles at me, before glancing around the bar. “Hmm, since you own this place, no wonder they allowed you to act out your playboy fantasies, as well as play the piano like a real life Lucifer Morningstar.” But then, she pales. “Wait, Dad chewed you out for stinking of alcohol. He did that a lot, right? But did you smell like that just because you were working here?”
She looks stricken.
D’Angelo avoids her gaze. “Sometimes. I worked here overnight more often than I should have done in the early days, when I was first setting it up. I’d turn up to practice exhausted and wearing the same creased clothes that would stink of the bar. Coach would kick my ass for it, thinking that I’d been drinking. ”
“Why didn’t you explain?”
D’Angelo abruptly stands. “Because this is my safe place, and I don’t share the truth about it with anyone but employees.” I glow.He’s telling Robyn and me.“And sometimes, coach was right about me. I drank too much whiskey. I was a screw-up. Self-destructive. He helped me, mentored me one-to-one, and got me into therapy. I just don’t trust the reasons now that he did that.” D’Angelo beckons Robyn and me with his crooked finger. “It’s time. My friends are particular about not arriving early orlate. At least, one of them is. On the Rocks is only one of my businesses. The front. My second one is for vetted VIPs only.”
Robyn and I exchange a glance.
We’re both grinning with excitement as we trail after D’Angelo, weaving between booths, past a cage, down a darkened corridor, through a crimson velvet drape, until we’re facing a large, locked steel door.
My eyes widen. “I can’t decide if this whole mysterious vibe is the scene in a horror movie just before the serial killer lures the hot but dumb couple to his lair or…”
“Or…” D’Angelo grabs me by the back of the neck and slams me face first against the door, pinning me in place.
Fuck, now I’m fully hard again.
We’re alone in the corridor, so I wriggle to put up a token struggle.
When D’Angelo slaps me crisply on the arse, I still.
“Or, D’Angelo repeats, “you’re about to be led into the most elite VIP BDSM club in the state.”
I freeze.
A shudder runs through me, but the type that shivers down my spine when D’Angelo fucks me and hits my prostate at just the right angle.
I’ve never been somewhere like this but I’ve dreamed about it. Blythe attended this posh place with her friends but she’d never take me because she said that I wasn’t well enough trained.
She told me that I was toobada sub and she didn’t trust that I wouldn’tshow her up.
D’Angelo rubs soothing circles into my neck with his thumb, which is sparking pleasure through me. “Still with me, cucciolo? Or have I short-circuited something?”
I wet my dry lips, bracing myself against the door. “I’m okay. This is brilliant.”
“I knew it!” Robyn jumps up and down like she’s won the lottery, pointing at D’Angelo. “You’re the Master of a secret BDSM club. I totally called it months ago.”
“Do you win a prize? An inflatable dildo? A spanking?” D’Angelo replies. “My club is called On the RACK.”
I splutter with laughter. “Of course it is.”
“Problem?” D’Angelo growls.
“Only that if you keep snarling into my ear like that I may come in my pants before we meet your friends.”
D’Angelo’s lips curl into a smile against my ear like he’s considering whether he’d like me to do that.
My heart speeds up.
At last, D’Angelo eases up on his hold and spins me around to face him.
