Isabel
I might be a little biased, but I think Salacious Players’ Club has to be the best sex club in the world. Okay…I don’t have much to compare it to. Or anything to compare it to. Truth be told, I’ve never stepped foot in another sex club.
Tonight will be my first.
Hence why I might be a tad bit nervous. It’s one thing to walk into the sex club your husband owns and his best friend built, but it’s very different walking into a strange club, where you don’t know a soul.
At least I’m walking in with two hot-as-hell men at my side. I shouldn’t be so anxious.
But suddenly I’m reminded of the first time Hunter brought up the idea of opening a sex club with his business partners, and the fact that I thought it was a crazy idea. A nightclub is one thing. Hell, even a strip club would be a stretch, but a full-on sex club? I guess I never really saw myself as a sex club owner’s wife, but I knew the moment I fell in love with Hunter that I was in for a wild ride.
A quiet, yoga-loving book nerd with accountants for parents is suddenly in marital possession of the freakiest establishment in Briar Point. I was never cut out for straight-laced anyway.
“You’re shaking,” Hunter whispers in my ear as we pass through the front doors of Fire Palace, the seven-year-old kink club in downtown Phoenix. It’s more discreet than Salacious, almost like a speakeasy with a downstairs entrance, under a seemingly normal bar. It was so quiet on the street outside that I thought we were in the wrong place, but once we pass through the door, I see why.
Fire Palace isn’t a loud dance club and I can’t hear sex anywhere. Even at our club, if you listen hard enough, you can hear the soft hum of sex in the background. I mean…it’s happening in almost every room of the building. Drake could only make the rooms so soundproof. Not to mention…some of them aren’t soundproof on purpose.
As we stride up to the hostess stand, a beautiful blond man with hair longer than Drake’s and blue eyes focused directly on him, I smile and try to hide behind the two men.
“Hunter Scott. I’m here to see Mirabel Santos.”
“Oh, yes, Mr. Scott. She told me you were coming.” The man reaches under the counter and pulls out a key. It’s not a keycard like we have. This is a real key and it’s hanging on a black keychain that reminds me of the kind old hotels used to use.
“Fire Palace is organized by rooms to ensure maximum privacy and safety. She’s informed me to give you a key to a VIP suite where she will meet with you in promptly one hour. You are welcome to use the suite…” his eyes dance between the three of our faces, and my eyes widen when I realize what he’s implying, “however you’d like until she can meet with you.”
Drake stifles a laugh. “Isn’t there a bar I could wait at?”
“We don’t serve alcohol, I’m afraid, but there is a lounge upstairs that might quench your thirst.”
Wow, do we sound this uptight at our club?
“Are we not able to look around? Isn’t there a place where people…mingle?” Hunter asks.
“Mingle? We have group activities on Thursday and Saturday nights from—’
“Never mind,” Hunter interjects, grabbing the key from the man. “You have water or something in the rooms for my wife, right?”
He seems tense, so I gently squeeze his arm against my body to try and calm him. It’s too early for him to lose his temper and Hunter has a bit of a short fuse.
“Yes, sir.”
“And please tell Ms. Santos that we do not need an hour. We’re here to see the Shibari demonstration at ten, so I’d appreciate it if she wouldn’t keep us waiting in our…room.”
The man behind the counter looks uncomfortable. “Yes, sir.”
“Let’s go,” he grumbles, pulling me to the door.
“I guess I’ll be upstairs at the bar,” Drake says, moving toward the stairs that lead to the street, and I feel a twinge of disappointment at seeing him leave, alone.
“Come on, Drake. You don’t want to miss the demonstration.”
“Come with you…into your sex room?”
“We’re not— Will you just come on?” Hunter barks. With a laugh, Drake follows us through the doors into the club. So much for being quiet. The moment we enter the long dark hallway, the sounds of sex behind each door mingle with the loud thumping bass of the music. I’m actually quite impressed that we couldn’t hear any of this in the lobby.
The vibe of this club is nothing like Salacious. Instead of entering one large room, we’re left to meander through a labyrinth of hallways with doors on each side, numbered in gold letters. It takes us a few moments to find ours: room thirty-three.
Holding Hunter’s hand, I stand by, letting him unlock the door, and glance back at Drake when I hear a thunderous roar coming from the room across the hall. Drake and I lock eyes and both resist the urge to laugh before rushing into our room.
The moment the door closes behind us, it’s a little more quiet. A little. The music is still loud in here and I can’t tell if the pounding sound is the bass or the headboards.
“This place is weird,” Drake mutters as he looks around our room.
Hunter is still clenching his jaw, which I know means he’s annoyed. He clearly doesn’t like that they ushered us into a room like prisoners, but I know it was just a business tactic. We’re technically their competition. They will show us respect, just after they humble us.
“I don’t like it,” Hunter mutters.
“Oh, it’s not so bad…” I say. The room is nice. It’s a good size, and it smells clean, like jasmine and cotton. There’s a giant bed on the right and a couch along the wall with a minibar and a cabinet against the opposite wall. It’s dark in here, giving the room a sexy vibe. Which I guess makes up for the fact that the room itself is a little…boring.
Walking over to the cabinet, I open doors to find exactly what I expected to: ropes, cuffs, tiny bottles of lube like hotel shampoos, and a bowl of condoms. In the drawers are sealed and unopened sex toys—butt plugs, dildos, anal beads. It makes me laugh that this stuff really doesn’t faze me anymore.
“This is bullshit,” Hunter mutters as he paces the room.
“Baby, relax,” I reply, approaching him and running my hands over his chest. Drake drops onto the sofa behind us. “We have an hour,” I joke, trying to lighten the mood for my husband. “Just because Drake is in here doesn’t mean we can’t still use the room.”
“Be my guest,” Drake says with a laugh.
My husband just rolls his eyes, but his shoulders do relax a little as his hands slide down my back. “This lady better hurry. I’m not sitting here cooped up for an hour.”
It doesn’t end up being an hour before there’s a knock at the door. In a rush, Hunter walks over and opens it. A beautiful woman with large green eyes and sleek black hair smiles politely at us.
“I’m Mirabel,” she says with a small bow. “I hope you enjoyed your room.”
“We didn’t request a room,” Hunter replies through clenched teeth.
As she peeks in, she notices the large man on the sofa, and her eyebrows rise in surprise. “Pity. I was unaware you were bringing a third. I would have been happy to accommodate him in the singles’ lounge.”
“There’s a singles’ lounge?” Drake whines from the couch.
“I’ll have a talk with my front desk host. My apologies,” Maribel says with a sweet smile. She doesn’t strike me as a sex club owner at first glance. She looks so nice and normal.
“Thank you,” Hunter replies, and I notice the way he relaxes a little into my arms.
“In your email, you mentioned the Shibari demonstration. Are you still interested in that?”
“Yes, please.”
“Absolutely. You three can follow me.”
I glance back at Drake again, and we share an expression of surprise as we step in line behind Hunter and Mirabel.
“Our members appreciate discretion,” she says, glancing back at us. “That’s why we keep it very private with the keys and doors. There are social events and spaces in our club for members to mingle, but they like that they can come here, for whatever reason, and not risk seeing anyone they would know outside the club.”
“At Salacious, we promote an open and nonjudgmental approach. They have nothing to hide in seeking their pleasure at our club.”
“How liberated you are to feel that way,” she replies with a coy smile, and Hunter’s brow furrows. Then Mirabel glances back at me. “Have you asked your wife or any woman, for that matter, how comfortable they feel being seen in a sex club? The societal expectations are quite different.”
I avert my eyes when I notice Hunter glance my way.
“We’re working to dismantle those expectations, Ms. Santos. Not cater to them.”
“I admire you for that,” she replies, and I feel Drake’s gaze on me this time. Glancing his way, our eyes widen as we fight back our smiles, again. I guess we both find this incredibly uncomfortable, but I’m glad he’s here to share the humor in it with me.
When we reach the end of the hall, Mirabel pulls out a key from her wristlet and unlocks the door. It opens to a large area that reminds me of a small concert hall. The room is wide and narrow with a stage at the other end. There are people mingled around in small groups as they watch the performance. There are pillars in the way, so I can’t quite see what’s going on yet, but as we make our way into the room, I let out a gasp when I see a young man suspended in the air. He’s hanging upside down, bound in tight black rope. There is an older man behind him, slowly spinning the rope, so the suspended man twirls. When he returns to facing the older man, he pulls him close to show that his mouth is perfectly aligned with the other man’s groin.
I’m sure he did that on purpose.
“This is Maxwell,” Mirabel says with a smile. “He’s an excellent Shibari instructor. Be sure to stick around for his workshop. He’ll pull someone from the audience to demonstrate.”
I step a little closer to Hunter.
“We’ll stick around then,” he replies.
When I glance back at Drake to see his reaction to the idea of being pulled on stage to demonstrate, he’s too busy eyeing a woman giving him a flirtatious stare. I have to bite back my envy at seeing his attention on someone else. I want to be bitter about it, but I guess I can’t expect him to stay by my side all night.
He just took two girls home last night…does he really need to find someone else so soon? Doesn’t he ever tire of it all?
Who am I kidding? Of course he doesn’t. He’s young and gorgeous and women are obsessed with him. If he can have a different one every night, why would he stop?
We watch the demonstration in silence as Maxwell slowly unravels the man suspended in the air, pulling the ropes in a way that allows him to slowly descend to the floor safely, without falling on his head.
Before he’s done, I hear Mirabel speaking to Hunter, her voice just barely carrying over the music.
“Your guests are welcome to stay and watch the next demonstration if you’d like to come to the office with me, so we can talk business.”
Hunter glances sideways at me. “Is that okay?”
“Of course,” I reply with a smile. Glancing toward Drake, he nods, and in return, Drake steps a little closer to me, as if he instantly understood his best friend’s silent request to protect me. Suddenly, his interest in the ice water lady is gone. It’s not the first time Drake has had to watch me in a club. Hunter doesn’t like me walking around alone, even in Salacious. Even if it’s perfectly safe with cameras and bouncers at every turn.
So, if he needs to step away, he hands me over to his best friend, like I’m a child who needs a babysitter. It grates on my nerves, but I don’t argue. He just wants to protect me, and I know that’s just how Hunter shows his love.
Hunter presses his lips to my cheek, squeezing me close to his body. “Be good,” he growls in my ear, and chills run down my spine at the dark rasp of his words, which sound more like a sexy promise than a serious warning.
“Or what?” I reply, glancing back at him through my lashes.
He smacks my ass and kisses me on the lips, pressing his tongue between them and owning my body until I’m breathless in his arms. Then he tears himself away, leaving me disoriented and staring up at the stage.
The suspended man is no longer suspended. He’s now standing front and center, completely naked, showing off the intricate rope marks all over his body. The crowd oohs and ahhs at the performers like they are an artistic masterpiece.
“Looks like it hurts,” Drake mutters next to me.
“What’s wrong, Drake? Afraid of a little pain?” I tease, glancing up at him. He’s standing closer than before, almost stationed behind me like some sort of bodyguard.
He leans down, until his mouth is closer to my ear, and replies, “Not at all. Are you?”
“Nope,” I reply with my chin held high.
“You’re telling me you wouldn’t mind being strung up there like a piñata?”
I bite my lip as I stifle a laugh. “It doesn’t look that much different than the aerial yoga we do in my studio.”
His deep chuckle vibrates against my back. “I guarantee this is much different.”
The man with rope stamps all over his body is gone now, and it’s only Maxwell, the demonstrator, left on stage, and I look up just in time to see him staring at me. I’m struck silent as I wait for him to speak. I feel like I’ve been caught by the teacher talking in class.
“You two,” he calls to me and Drake.
“Us?” I ask, pointing to my own chest.
“Yes. You two would be perfect for my next demonstration. Would you like to come up here and try this next one together?”
“I’m not—’ Drake starts, but the man cuts him off.
“I won’t touch her. Only you.”
Drake stiffens behind me.
I’m speechless as I stare at the black ropes hanging from the ceiling. On the one hand, this could be an excellent training opportunity to learn what we need to know for Salacious, and I’d love to see how we could get our members involved in these demos. I’ve also always wanted to try Shibari. It’s harmless. I mean…we are here to learn.
On the other hand, if Hunter sees me on stage, he might not react well.
But I’ll be with Drake.
“Okay,” I call as I take a step toward the stage.
“Really?” Drake replies quietly. Turning around, I reach a hand toward him.
“It’s just a demonstration. We should learn this stuff. Come on.”
He hesitates as he takes my hand but still lets me pull him up the three steps to the top of the black stage, where we meet Maxwell under the bright pink can light shining from the rafters.
“Beautiful couple,” Maxwell greets us as we meet him in the middle of the stage.
Drake’s hand is still in mine, so I give it a quick squeeze as I glance up at him with a tight-lipped smile. He only shakes his head in return. This is making him uncomfortable already, I can tell.
“Thank you,” I reply to Maxwell.
“I’d love to show you how to tie the pentagon harness on this beautiful woman, would you like to learn?” he asks.
Drake clears his throat. “Sure.”
“Excellent. This dress is lovely, but the harness would fit better without it. Would you mind removing it? You can say no.”
My mouth goes dry. Remove my dress? On stage?
I scan the gathering crowd for any sign of Hunter or Mirabel, but I don’t see them. I’m in a bra, and this is a sex club. I mean…it’s hardly inappropriate here to be half-naked. And I am with Drake.
It’s just a demonstration.
“Yeah,” I answer quickly. Pulling the straps off of my shoulders, I let my dress fall down to my ankles. When I pick it up and turn to drape it over the chair to the left, I catch Drake’s expression, and he looks downright livid. His cheeks are red, and no, that’s not just the bright pink light shining on us. His eyes are wide and his jaw is set. He takes a step closer to me, keeping his eyes laser-focused on my face and not my nearly see-through bra.
“Beautiful,” Maxwell says. Then he steals Drake’s attention as he hands him one of the black ropes. “Now stand behind her,” he tells him, and Drake obeys. He’s so close behind me, I feel the warmth from his body against my skin.
“With the rope doubled, run the length between her breasts and around to the back.”
I’m relaxed and standing there proudly, staring at the audience as Drake reaches around me and sets the rope against my skin. Even when he lays it between my breasts, I’m fine. But as the demonstration proceeds, each step adding another layer of rope around me, between my breasts, cinching them tighter until they begin to protrude through the layers of rope, my body begins to react in nervous arousal.
I can’t quite sense how Drake is feeling, but every time his fingers swipe over my bare skin, goosebumps erupt, and I swear I almost imagine his touch lingering every time we connect. Even through the bumping music, I hear his breath in my ear as he works to bind me.
It’s only a harness over my top half, wound around my breasts and torso. I look down to see a star pattern at the top of my chest.
“Please turn to show the audience the knot at the back,” Maxwell tells him, and I flinch a little when I’m spun around. In nothing but a thong and this harness, my backside is on display for the audience and the cool confidence I felt a moment ago is gone.
As Maxwell demonstrates to Drake how to finish the knot at my back, I focus only on Drake’s touch and his calming presence, weaving the rope in and out of itself until it’s finished.
“Perfect,” Maxwell announces when it’s done. I glance up at Drake and we share a long moment of eye contact that’s not like anything we’ve ever shared. It’s not our usual inside jokes or laughing at awkward moments. It’s intense and intimate.
“Please rotate for the audience,” Maxwell says, and I do, spinning slowly to show off the harness. I might be wearing a bra, but I might as well be naked with the way this harness exposes my breasts.
The crowd applauds, and I think it’s over, a feeling of relief washing over me.
But Maxwell doesn’t show us how to take it off, not yet.
“This harness is great for different positions of domination. Simple and effective.” Then, he looks at Drake as he says, “Take her by the front of the harness and pull her toward you.”
My wide eyes meet Drake’s before I discreetly nod. Then with intensity shining in those blue eyes on my face, he grabs the harness directly between my breasts and jerks me toward him.
The air in my lungs is practically punched out of me as I collide against his hard body. Heat pummels my insides, lighting a fire in my lower belly.
The crowd reacts in a way I don’t expect. There’s no applause, but someone reacts loudly with something that sounds like a moan, and I start to feel dizzy with this strange new arousal I wasn’t expecting.
“This is a great harness for lifts as well. Care to try it?” he asks, looking at Drake.
“Like this?” he asks, and he’s no longer angry-looking. He’s not hesitating or holding back either. There’s something in Drake’s expression that shows just how much he’s enjoying this now. Something about this really has him turned on, maybe rope bondage is one of his kinks.
Drake then reaches behind me, holding the tight knot on my back as the other hand reaches down to take my thigh as he lifts me easily, and my legs instinctually go around him.
The moment I have my thighs wrapped around Drake, something happens to me.
His waist is broader than Hunter’s. The feeling of another man between my legs is foreign, but it is just Drake. He’s my friend…my best friend. He’s like family to me, and there is nothing sexual between us, but right now…the feeling of being weightless in his arms is intoxicating.
“Are you okay?” he whispers as he holds me effortlessly, our faces only inches apart.
Without a word, I nod. Because I am okay, and I’m not quite sure if that is wrong or right. It doesn’t feel wrong, but I’m a little worried by how good it feels. Even if we’re not really crossing a line, I definitely should not feel this aroused in my husband’s best friend’s arms.
“You can set her down now,” Maxwell says, and I tear my eyes away from Drake as he lowers me to the ground. “Turn her around, please.”
Drake spins me so my back is to him, and once again, I think we’ve reached the end of the demonstration, and I’m only moments away from taking this rope off and being able to put my dress back on.
Wrong again.
“One last position,” he says, and I glance up at Maxwell as he tells Drake, “bend her over.”
My mouth goes dry. Because somewhere in the room, I feel Hunter’s eyes watching us. I scan the room again, but I don’t see him. I feel him, though. He’s out there. He can see me exposed and tied up with his best friend, and my heart pounds wildly in my chest at the thought.
With a hold of the knot between my shoulder blades, Drake nudges me forward until I’m hinging at my hips. Then I glance up again, and this time, I do find those dark eyes in the crowd. He’s standing at the edge of the room, next to Mirabel, staring at me and Drake. Where there should be rage and jealousy is an expression of awe and intrigue. Why isn’t he stopping this?
“With the harness, control and thrusts are much more powerful. Care to demonstrate.”
Drake and I tense at the same time. But the eyes of the crowd are on us and the energy in the room won’t allow us to back out now. We’ve gotten this far and we’re almost done, but even with my husband watching from across the room, I feel Drake behind me. I feel the sexy energy of his body holding mine. Overpowering and dominating and controlling me in a way that has my panties wet and my body on fire.
After clearing his throat, Drake jerks me backward, but doesn’t quite make contact with my backside the way I expected him to. I probably shouldn’t be as disappointed as I am.
“Oh, I think you can do better than that. Really show her,” Maxwell says, and there’s a whoop from the crowd, urging Drake on. I hear him growl behind me as he tightens his grasp on my harness.
Then, I’m being violently jerked backward until I feel him slam into my backside, and I let out a howling yelp at the sudden impact. Boiling hot arousal swims through my bloodstream at the unmistakable sensation of his rock-hard length wedged roughly between my cheeks.
The crowd reacts again, this time clapping and hollering at our display.
As quickly as Drake slammed against me, he was gone. I suddenly miss the weight of his cock against my ass, and I can’t seem to stop thinking about it. Even as I glance back up at Hunter across the room, watching with more of a blank expression on his face now.
Then Maxwell is walking Drake through removing my harness, and I can’t think through a solid thought. My mind is swimming. I keep feeling him hard against me and the undeniable power of the thrust.
There’s more applause as we rush off stage, and when we meet Hunter by the door, I glance up to see Drake shifting uncomfortably.
“That was impressive,” Hunter says as his arms go around my waist, now safely covered by my dress. Although the rope still burns like an echo of our time on stage. I keep glancing at Hunter’s face, looking for anger, but there is none. He seems calm, and I wonder if he’s just storing up his anger for when we’re in private or if seeing his best friend dry hump his wife on stage wasn’t as upsetting as it probably should be.
“I need a drink,” Drake mutters.
“Me too,” I reply.
“Then let’s go,” Hunter adds, and with that, the three of us quickly move toward the door.
