He took the toy from me, holding it up. “It goes on your tongue. Or my tongue.” Then hitting a small button on the side, the ring vibrated in his hands. “For oral pleasure.” He turned it off, placing it again in my hand. “Now, I’m going to ask again—why would Holly or Marly need to know aboutmypersonal tastes in the bedroom?”
Because I desperately wanted to. If I was a stronger person, I would have just said that. Boldly. But instead, I cast my eyes down and shrugged one shoulder to my ear. “I figured it would be helpful to know everything.”
He nodded, but his jaw clenched. “Research.”
I followed his lead, nodding along with him. “Right.”
“Just like the other night with Ash.” This time, he didn’t wait for my response. He simply crossed to the front door and held it open. “Let’s go, then.”
Ten minutes later, we were silently walking down the dark hallway. “You look beautiful.”
“Thank you,” I said. “And thanks for the dress. It was… it was way too much.”
Jude shrugged. “Technically, it’s a tax write off.” He slid me a smirk, but it was missing that extra bit of warmth. Missing that spark. That chemistry.
With each step, the heavy bass of music grew closer and closer until we were standing outside an unmarked door. It looked like the door to any other room in that hallway. “You ready?”
I nodded and with his hand still hovering at the small of my back, Jude opened the door, guiding me inside and down the rabbit hole.
Everyone who had been in the common room a few nights ago was inside that room, including Ash and a different sub than I had seen him with the other night. There were a few extra faces that I didn’t recognize and some men and women who looked like they weren’t there with anyone.
The woman who had been Ash’s sub the first night in the common room stood across the room. This time, alone. Her shiny, white-blond hair was trimmed short, and tonight those bangs covered one of her eyes almost entirely. Her leather jumpsuit was cut off at the tops of her thighs and cut high, revealing the bottom curves of her ass.
“There’s a bar in the back corner,” Jude said. “Do you feel comfortable enough to order me a martini while I find us a good spot near the stage?”
Across the room, the pixie-cut submissive stood beside the bar. Under normal circumstances, I would have said no. Would have preferred to have Jude by my side the whole time. But I wanted to meet that girl. And based on how Jude reacted when we saw her the first night? I doubted he wanted to talk to her. “I’ll be fine,” I said. “May I order something?”
Jude smiled. “Is that a good idea?”
No. Yes. Maybe… nerves rippled in my stomach like the ocean before a storm. Not that alcohol was necessarily the best thing to calm excitement. But it couldn’t hurt at this point. A little liquid courage. Instead, I simply answered, “I like having something to do with my hands.”
“How about you start with a glass of sparkling water. Then you can have a bourbon later.”
“Thank you, Sir.” The words rolled off my tongue effortlessly and I froze, startling myself.
Jude’s brows jumped. “That almost sounded sincere,” he said, chuckling.
“It was,” I lifted my chin to meet his gaze. “It just… slipped out without even thinking.”
He blinked, his thoughtful, green eyes darkening. “Go on, then,” he said, tipping his head to the bar.
I scurried across the room, weaving around the bodies dancing and mingling. Instead of sliding up to the bar at the gaping hole on the right side, I slipped into the corner on the left where Pixie-Cut Girl was standing, sipping a tumbler of something pink. I racked my brain, trying to remember the name Ash called her the other night… Ava? No, that wasn’t it.
“That looks good,” I said, hating the quiver in my voice. Other than Jude, Ash, and phone calls to Omar, this was the only person I’d had a conversation with in days. That, combined with the dirty looks this girl had given me and Jude the other night? Well, those waves in my belly had turned into a damn tsunami. “What are you drinking?”
Pixie Girl’s dark brow arched and disappeared beneath her side-swept bangs. Her eyes were icy blue and cold, just like her raspy, low voice. “You aren’t supposed to talk without permission.”
I paused. “Permission… from you?”
Pixie snorted. “Hardly. From your Master.” She took a long, slow sip from her tumbler, the pink liquid sliding over her blood red lips.
“Oh, well—”
“What can I get you, Angel?” The male bartender interrupted me. Angel? That was weird.
My face must have showed it, because Pixie leaned in and whispered, “They call all subs Angel.”
“Right. I guess that makes sense.” Yeah, in the way that fucking trigonometry makes sense. It was stupid and generic and I hated it.Angel. It was the sort of bullshit nickname sleazy men gave you the morning after when they can’t remember your name. “I’ll have a martini, up, very dry, extra olives. And a sparkling water, please.”
