Page 11 of Carnal

People have always fascinated me, but the night I stepped into the club was the beginning of a whole new world. The danger of working for Dante had long since faded. The Marinos were no longer scary. I was taken under their wing and belonged to their family. So being in the presence of so many dangerous men who weren't them created a new high. And every time I denied a request to join a powerful man in his VIP suite or a private room, my adrenaline spiked.

Plus, I learned there was more to sex than what I had experienced before. Submission and dominance loomed all over the club. Once I saw the power exchange between two people, it fed desires I never knew I had.

At first, I didn't understand what drew me to it. My confusion grew to the point I sought out a sex therapist so I could understand my obsession with digging into different BDSM activities. Through our sessions, she encouraged me to act on them, but I knew it wouldn't be easy in the club.

I wanted to dominate these dangerous men—I still do. Most will never allow it. Maybe working for Dante for so long gives me the urge to exert power over them. Perhaps it's my need to be in control since everything felt out of control when I was a child. And it might be a mix of the two. Regardless of the root cause, when I'm in the dungeon with the shades drawn, and it's only whatever man I've found who agrees to submit to me, I get a high so potent, it could compete with the strongest of drugs.

In some ways, I get as much from not having sex as I do from it. More often than not, I come to the club and don't do anything besides have fun with Chanel. We have some drinks, dance, and flirt with different men. Sometimes I go into the dungeon and watch. I don't get off on it as Chanel does, so I wouldn't consider myself into voyeurism. I watch to find new techniques or learn how to push my subs to new limits without going too far.

Normally, I'm fascinated with the club and I don't leave until five or six in the morning. But lately, my obsession has shifted.

A few months ago, I sat in a meeting and saw Tristano's interest in me. I'd known him for years and not once had we ever flirted.

He's always been Dante's youngest brother, a couple years younger than me, and in my off-limits box. Sure, from their chiseled faces to ripped boxing bodies, the Marino brothers are all sexy as sin. But I don't play in the sandbox where I work. My career is too important to me, and I wanted to always know I got where I'm at from my abilities to do my job and not by sleeping with the boss.

While Dante is technically my boss and not his brothers, it was too close to home. They all call upon my abilities to help them out at times. Then they always reward me with more money than I could ever anticipate, and I would never want to mess that up.

So when Tristano's gaze lit up, lingering on my legs, cleavage, then my eyes, zings flew to my core. It was the same feeling I always got whenever I zeroed in on a new sub. Since that day, all I can think about is getting him into the dungeon but not the one at the club. I want him restrained and at my mercy in my private one.

While I maintain privacy at the club, never letting anyone watch, I had an itch to build my own a year ago. One of my properties had a tenant moving out. I thought it was best to build it there so whoever I invited over wouldn't know where I lived.

I've never used it. All my activities are still at the club, and I wasn't sure why I held off. Then Tristano looked at me. It was the same hungry expression he directed at other women at the club.

And that's another issue. I know more about the Marino men and their conquests than anyone. I've seen every one of the brothers in action, including Tristano, whether it's a woman giving them a blowjob in their suite or their activities in the dungeon.

I know Tristano's always been a Dom. He's one of the best I've watched. He stays emotionally connected to his sub, and it's fascinating. So his ability to submit probably doesn't exist. Yet, I can't get the itch to dominate him out of my mind.

Since earlier today, when we had our make-out session in the SUV, it's only bugging me further. Besides reprimanding myself for crossing the line with him, I can't stop the urge from intensifying. Kissing Tristano was like another new surge of power. Maybe it's because we're both into dominating, but it's as if we were both challenging each other. I've never felt anything like it. And my desire to win at whatever game we were playing was like a shot of heroin. I'm chasing that high tonight, trying to find it, but everywhere I look is a dead end. No one even seems worth my time.

"Let's go into dungeon three. That new girl Roy brought just went in there with him," Chanel states, her hand gripping the rail so tight her knuckles turn white.

Voyeurism is her thing. When she finds a show she wants to watch, she always has to squeeze something. It's like she's trying to regulate herself in some way. She's Massimo's flight attendant, and we hit it off a long time ago. When I saw her at the club a few years back, our friendship grew stronger.

Normally, I'd have no problem going into the viewing room with her. Roy's a good Dom, and I normally learn new tricks from him. Plus, the girl he brought looks as alpha as they come, so I'd normally be interested in how well she'll submit. But everything feels off tonight.

I shake my head. "I'm going to go—" My mouth turns dry, and my heartbeat races as Tristano and Massimo step out of the elevator.

The look in their eyes tells me something is off. They aren't here to have fun. They're here on business even though it's against one of the club's rules.

Massimo steps in front of him and goes into a suite. I'm only on floor two, which isn't where the Marinos typically hang out. Their main suite is on a higher floor.

Tristano's scowl shifts toward me, and he freezes outside the door. His black designer T-shirt hugs his impeccable shoulders and chest. The bulge of his biceps strains the fabric, and all I can think about is what it felt like to straddle him.

My pulse shoots through the roof. He tears his eyes off me, pulls his phone out of his pants, and swipes his screen. His fingers move fast, and as soon as he shoves it back in his pocket, my phone vibrates.

I remove it from my pocket and read the text message.

Tristano:I have to take care of something. Give me your address. Let's get out of here.

My flutters take off, but I'm not diving further into Pandora's box unless I'm getting my way. I look up, but he's already inside the suite.

Me:You didn't tell me you understand I'm in charge.

Tristano:Fine. We'll play your game. Then I get to play mine. Address?

A mixture of excitement and nerves fills me. I've never let anyone dominate me and shouldn't agree. I won't like it. I debate what to do.

"Why did Tristano just pause outside the suite and text you?" Chanel interrogates.

---