Page 22 of Crushed
“Most servers would consider it rude to approach a club member sitting in front of the stage,” I said.
“You’re right,” she said.
She turned away, about to walk past. This might be it. She might never bother me again.
But fuck it.
I stood up and followed her. I grabbed her hand, her skin cold in my touch. “Let’s go to the Terrariums.”
“Really?” she asked.
“No, I’m dragging you there for the fucking hell of it.”
The sooner we did this, the sooner I’d know that Scarlett was like the rest of them. I pulled her by the arm and dragged her to the dungeon room. Black walls and the concrete ground were the foundation of the room, while leather-covered equipment furnished it. Other instruments were tucked away inside of hidden compartments.
“Take off your dress,” I said.
“Right now?”
“Take. Off. Your. Dress.”
She glanced around, as if realizing for the first time that we were in the Terrarium that was considered the torture room of the club. “Don’t we have to fill out terms? An agreement?”
“Fine.” I flung open one of the drawers and found the term form and a pen, handing them to her. She had been working at the Dahlia District for a week now. This wasn’t her first time reading the terms sheet. She must have known what she would allow and what she would forbid. But she studied it anyway, her eyes shifting between me and the paper, then back to me again. Her dark eyes were hesitant.
I didn’t have time for this shit.
I pulled the paper out of her hands, crumpling it and flinging it across the room. “We don’t have time for you to pick through each item and decide whether or not this is the day you try a particular fetish for the first time. I’m not here foryou, Scarlett.”
She bit that soft bottom lip between her teeth, and I wanted to grab her chin in my hands and make her kiss me. To suffocate her with my mouth.
“Cormac—”
“You’ll have to trust me,” I growled. “The door is there. You know how to alert the guards if this isn’t to your liking.”
She nodded slowly. I gestured at the dress.
“Now take that off.” She froze, her eyes still stuck on me. “Fine. Don’t take off the fucking dress.” I grabbed her, forcing her body over the spanking bench, hiking her dress up around her hips. Her thong surprised me; I had expected the same booty shorts she had worn the first time I saw her. But I brushed her ass with my palm, round and firm. My fingers ran over the fabric covering her slit, and she whimpered in response. I pulled her hair, making her head turn upright.
“I won’t push you further than you can take,” I said into her ear. “But you can go much, much further than you realize, Scarlett. You want to show me that you can please me like that, don’t you?”
“I do,” she murmured. “Yes.”
“Good.”
I spanked her, a firm smack on her ass that sent chills down her spine. I waited a few seconds. “You remember the phrase to alert the security system?”
“Yes,” she said.
I smacked her ass again, harder than the last time. I stepped back, her body leaning fully into the spanking bench, bracing herself for what came next. I admired her ass, the pale skin with the bright red handprint, each finger expertly defined.
I walked around. She looked away, avoiding my gaze. I kneeled down and grabbed her chin. “How does this make you feel?”
“I don’t know,” she said.
“Shall we try until you know, then?”
I returned slowly to my position. I admired that heart-shaped curve, then rammed a palm into her again, at that delicious valley where her ass met the backs of her thighs, and her whimper transformed into a moan. I crouched down. The wetness was drenching her underwear, her blatant arousal.
