Dirty Little Lies (7 page)

Instinctively, I pull on my restraints for some control. I
want to touch Gabe, play with his hair, feel his head as he works to pleasure
me. But being denied this, makes me sink further into bliss.

Gabe’s tongue starts to increase the speed of this glorious
pattern, and I rock into it. I relish in his hot mouth all over me as Brinna
holds me open for him.

I’m pretty sure I’m panting at this point. He might actually
kill me. Right here. In front of all these people. 

“Are you ready to come?” Brinna asks.

I nod vigorously, now able to see the faint images of the
people watching us on the other side of the glass. My insides turn to liquid;
it’s too much.

Brinna taps Gabe’s head and he looks up giving me the
reprieve I desperately need. It doesn’t last. He switches gears and adds his
fingers to the mix. They begin pumping inside, curling up in that perfect spot,
while his tongue continues its assault on my clit. I start to go fuzzy again,
completely lost in every sensation. 

I hear a countdown in my head: ten, nine, eight, seven—

Gabe pulls my clit into his mouth and gives me a gentle,
but surprising, bite on my most tender spot.

Blast off.

The explosion goes off and there’s nothing I can do but
take it. My teeth rattle from the sheer force of the orgasm. It keeps going,
and my sex continues to contract around Gabe’s fingers over and over again.

“Yes, that’s it, baby.”

Gabe milks every last bit of the orgasm out of me. As the
last of the shocks course through my body, I’m out of breath and hanging from
my restraints.

Brinna releases my arms and Gabe is there to catch me,
before gently laying me down on the bed. She then releases my legs, and without
a word, she leaves us.

Gabe moves in next to me to rubs my wrists and ankles,
while planting tender kisses my neck and chest.

 “So what do you think?” he asks, pulling me into him.

“Mmm?” I ask from the cloud I’m floating on.

“Public place was on that list of yours. Was this public
enough?”

“Yes.” I breathe into his chest, and he wraps me in covers
as if can feel my modesty kicking in. “It was so amazing. The. Best. Night.
Ever.”

“So, you ready to join this little club?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely,” I say. “Where do I sign up?”

“No sign up, just initiation.”

“And what does that entail?” I ask.

“You already did it.”

 “What?” I ask, trying to concentrate on the conversation.

“You already passed initiation.”

I look at him now. “How did I do that?”

“Well, you made a sex tape.”

 “What?” I demand. The word is rough on my throat.

I shoot up in bed in a complete panic. “What the fuck,
Gabe? What are you saying? That was filmed?  Without my consent?” My cheeks
burn and my eyes water.

“I’m sorry, baby. You said you wanted in and that’s all
part of the initiation.”

“Why would you do that to me?” I ask, running through all
the scenarios in my head of how this could get out. Did Gabe even want me or
was this all part of his plan? The porno version of
Girls Gone Wild.

“Calm down, Stevie. It’s not porn,” Gabe explains like he
just read my mind. “Not for anyone else to see. It’s just a guarantee that what
happens here, stays here,” The management has a, shall we say
embarrassing
file,
on all our members. A guarantee that nobody will talk.”

He looks at me like this is all perfectly normal. Like I’m
the problem.

“That is fucking insane,” I spit.

“Insane or brilliant?” He tries for cute.

It doesn’t work; I want to slap the hell out of him right
now, but he’d probably like it. 

“Don’t worry. The file won’t leave this place, unless you
do something to threaten our little club or the members. It’s really no big
deal, Stevie.”

“So I’m safe as long as I play by the rules?” I ask, pissed
now that my perfect night has turned into such a betrayal.

“Correct,” Gabe says. “Welcome to The Club, baby. You have
officially made it through initiation.”

Great. Now what?

I knew there’d be a crowd for
Stevie, I mean look at her for fuck’s sake, but I didn’t know it’d be so big or
that they would stay and watch for so long. I want them gone. I want everyone
gone. Everyone, but her.

This possessiveness, this need to want to take care of
Stevie isn’t sitting well with me. This place isn’t about that. It’s about
being open and having a safe place for people to get what they need, without
judgment.

I’ll never be that traditional kind of guy, so I need to
get these thoughts out of my head right now. But, fuck. The feeling of her
coming, on my hand, on my tongue.
Christ.
I want her in about five
different positions, all at the same time.

But I want her alone.  

I hate what I have to do now. How I’m going to shatter this
incredible night. I hate that I have to make this fake admission, all just to meet
the expectations of The Club.  The patrons watching will love it. Yet, I don’t
think Stevie is going to take it well. And I hate to disturb her in this state.
She is flushed, trembling, and completely blissed out. I want to keep her this
way. Forever.

But I can’t. I guess now’s the time we’ll see what she’s
really made of.

I take blanket and cover her. She leans into it. “So, you
ready to join this little club?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely,” she says. “Where do I sign up?” She
is completely adorable.

“No sign up, just initiation.” I cringe.

“And what does that entail?” she asks.

I take a deep breath and tell her everything it entails.
The tape, the file on all of our patrons, the way all of this really works.

The way this lifestyle really works. Shielding her from it
will not do her any favors.

Still, I wish I didn’t have to do it this way, but the
crowd is expecting a show and I have to give it to them. I just hope she
doesn’t storm out of here before I get the chance to tell her the truth.

Gabe’s admission jolts me out
of my afterglow and leaves me unsteady as I try to make sense of what he’s just
said. He filmed us—and our filthy exploits—as some sort of twisted initiation
rite for The Club. His eyes search mine as if trying to communicate something,
but I quickly look away. I can’t believe he did this to me. Tightening my grip
on the covers, I snag each article of my clothing that Gabe passes over to me.
I keep the sheet around my body, trying to shield all my delicate bits from the
camera. And from him.

The fucking sleezball. 

My skin is itchy and I want a shower. I want to wash away
the entire night. Fighting nausea, I swallow down the saliva currently pooling
in my mouth. It’s hard to believe that only moments ago I was soaring from the
most intense orgasm of my existence.

Gabe doesn’t say a word now—cat’s got Mr. Suave’s tongue.
Further proving that all of this has just been an illusion, one shattered at
the mention of a sex tape.

After I’m put together, Gabe gently takes my arm to lead me
back to the meeting room. I yank it from him, but continue to follow because
I’m too confused—and queasy—to do anything else. By the time we reach the room
full of people, I’ve officially come down from my high.

The entire place has now lost its appeal. The beat of the
music is too loud and forced, and the floral smell wafting through the room is
giving me a headache.

I was ready to do almost anything to get
my
membership
card into this place
.
I wanted to bathe in the adrenaline rush I got
from Gabe. It was the most thrilling experience—there with him, in that room,
as he did the most delicious things to me. The fact that people were watching
us on the other side of the wall only heightened the encounter. It’s odd that
it’s taken me so many years to I discover I’m kinky. Who knew?

Of course, I’ve always loved my toys—and even had a few
boyfriends who were down with it. But after Max flipped his shit when he saw my
box of goodies on move-in day, I guess I just buried that part of me.

And that pisses me off even more. I finally uncover this
piece of myself after all this time, only to have it taken away from me.

There’s only one person to blame, and once I regain my
balance, I’m on the attack.

“You cocksucker,” I yell at Gabe, smacking his chest. He’s
not going to get away with this.

Gabe grabs my arm tightly. Too tight. His mouth is in a
straight line, but his eyes betray him. They’re wide and frantic, and he looks
a little freaked out—like
he
is the one who just found out he’s the lead
character in a porn flick. My body is almost convulsing in anger, and hitting
him isn’t enough. I know I should be throwing some of this anger back at myself
for being so incredibly stupid.

Now, all I can think about is where that video might land.
And all the pervs who are going to get off by watching me get off.
Oh God.
What
if the people at work find out? Or worse?  My parents—the sweet, suburban
Sinclairs. I could just see it: Mom and Dad shopping online for the latest
kitchen gadget at William Sonoma and stumbling upon their little girl getting
serviced on the internet for all to see.

 No, this situation cannot get worse.
 

Is it wrong I’m also worried about the angle of
the camera and if it captured my good side? What, too soon?

“I’m sorry,” Gabe says, leading me back toward the main
bar. “I knew you wouldn’t do it if I told you about the initiation. And then
you would’ve missed out. You were on another plane, Stevie. I know you enjoyed
the hell out of that.”

“Missing the point.” I struggle from his grip. What a
nightmare. This is why someone like me belongs at home—eating ice cream in her
Hello Kitty pjs—not running wild in the city. 

“Please hold on for a minute,” Gabe says, tensing his grip
on me. “Give me a chance to explain.”

“Just take me home,” I yell, not wanting to hear any
reasoning for his betrayal.

“No,” he says, pulling me to a stop.

“No?” I repeat, my jaw so tight, it’s throbbing.

Gabe doesn’t let up on the manhandling, so I begin to
formulate an escape. Maybe a kick to the shins while yelling
fire
? A
Three Stooges eye poke? Or a good ol’ fashioned punch in the junk? Hmm, any of
those should do it.  

“No,” Gabe repeats, caging me into the wall. “I didn’t do
it,” he whispers in my ear.

“What do you mean?” I ask, now more befuddled than ever.
Didn’t
do what?

“There were people still on the other side of the glass
when we were done,” he continues. “I guess I didn’t realize there’d be such a
big crowd. They were listening, Stevie, so I had to pretend. The videotaping
is
part of initiation, for the reason I told you. Everyone here has gone through
it.”

He runs a hand through his hair and takes a deep breath. “But
I promise you, nobody was filming us. I made sure of it. I wouldn’t do that
after all you’ve been through.”

What the h. e. double hockey sticks is going on?

“How did you pull that off?” I ask, not understanding one
word of this. “What makes
me
so special?”

“You’re my guest,” he says simply.

“And?”

“Nobody wants to piss off the boss.”

“You own this place?” I can’t help the disgusted look on my
face.

Nice. I’ve been hanging out with the spawn of
Larry Flynt.

“I’m the silent owner. I told you, I dabble in many
different businesses.”

I hold my head and rub my temples, trying to prevent the
explosion sure to happen any minute. This is too much for my body and my brain.
I feel like I’ve just ran two marathons and been through a month of college
finals. I’m not sure I can handle hearing anything else tonight.

“I know this has been a crazy night, Stevie. It’s a lot to
take in. But this place has been a lifesaver for so many people—I think it
could be for you, too. If you give it chance, and give
me
a chance.”

“Right now, I need some time to process, Gabe. I need you
take me home.”

“Okay.” He gives me a kiss on the forehead, and it’s crazy
but my eyes immediately close and I lean in. There’s a pull to Gabe I can’t
deny.

I must be punch-drunk from the mind-blowing orgasms. Or
maybe it’s not lilies I’ve been smelling in the room, maybe it’s opium poppy or
some other hallucinogenic. It’s like I’m trapped in the porno version of
The
Wizard of Oz.
That’s the only reasonable explanation why I’m still here. 

 “I just want you to see one more thing before we go,” Gabe
says. “It’s the reason we’re here actually.”

 “So we didn’t come here to be the entertainment in the
glass room?” I can’t believe I’m joking about all of this. Yes, it’s definitely
poppy floating in the air.  

“Well,
that
was a bonus.” Gabe chuckles, trying to
lighten the mood.

I hate to admit it, but it starts to work. He’s talked me
down off the ledge. Still, I know I’m in over my head. I’m out of my
element—just a visitor in his
lifestyle.

“Gabe, please just take me home,” I say, letting my
mother’s ingrained common sense kick in.

“Just hear me out, Stevie. What we did in that room, it was
hot and you know it. I can see it in your eyes. You’re torn about what you want
and what you
think
you should want. Someone at some point made you feel
that what you wanted—what you needed—sexually was wrong or bad or dirty.”

“Are you really going to psychoanalyze me now after all the
shit you pulled tonight?” I say, despite the fact that he’s one hundred percent
correct. Still, I don’t care what he thinks he
knows
about me, I don’t
need anyone else making judgments about my sex life. Max did that enough in one
lifetime.

 And what’s even worse? Being this close to Gabe makes me
nuts. All I want to do is kiss his dimple, bite his bottom lip, and so much
more. I think I may need some serious help. Actually, I’m certain I do.

“No, I’m not going to psychoanalyze you, but I can see
what’s happening here. And I don’t want you to feel bad about it. You are an
incredibly sexy woman. I think you should get to know that side of yourself,
without guilt.”  

He’s breaking me down, there’s no doubt. But the truth is,
this has been the most amazing night of my life. I’ve never felt this wanted,
or sexy, or strong. This night has been more than just a fantasy. It’s been so
freeing. I’m not sure I’m ready to give that up. As Gabe said, I’d be cheating
myself if I didn’t get the whole experience.

“Okay,” I say, caving just a bit. I’ll hear him out. I can
do that much. “What did you want to show me?”

He takes me to a seat in a corner of the meeting room. The
energy still has that same feral heat, people prowling or posturing, looking
for the next conquest. As I slowly start to relax, I can see how beautiful it
really is. Primal, natural. Yet, there’s this unbalance. It’s almost as if
we’re in another time period, and that becomes even more apparent when a woman
enters the room.

It’s quite the production: four men—well, more gladiators
than men—carry a gorgeous redhead on what Gabe describes as a
lectica.
It’s a traveling bed used in ancient times to transport royalty—think
Cleopatra.

“Who is that?” I ask, wide-eyed, unable to turn my
attention away from her.

Gabe smiles. “That is Venus, AKA, my friend, Reece.”

Reece is wearing a white gown and looks like a goddess as
the men parade her around. Her porcelain skin glows, and her long curls hang
down her back. Curls I’ve seen before. Yes, she’s my room service gal.

Gabe sees the recognition on my face. “Reece helps with a
lot of my businesses,” he says in explanation. “This is her reward.”

The men bring her to an open area by the dance floor and
secure the bed to a platform. Two men deliver her drinks, and a woman braids
her hair while Reece watches the dancers now performing for her.

I’m enthralled and unable to move.

Gabe runs a finger down my arm, clearly understanding
what’s going on inside me.

A pull, or feeling, or need—I’m not quite sure how to
explain it—holds me in place as I watch Reece and enjoy Gabe’s touch. It’s not
rational, but now that I’ve discovered that kink is on the menu, I can’t deny
it.

I like this. And I want it.

When I look over my shoulder, I can see Gabe’s been
observing me with that gorgeous smirk on his face.

“She gets anything she wants during her reign,” he tells
me. Then he goes on to explain that everyone is here to serve her—the ultimate
position at The Club and the ultimate fantasy.

As I watch Reece, I fade away—deep into my own mind. I see
myself on that bed. Damn, I look good. I’m lost in reverie until Gabe clears
his throat.

“I want to do that,” I whisper over the sounds of the
crowd.

“I knew you would.” He laughs. “This is why I brought you
here, babe. Reece is ending her reign in the next few days. The role is open,
and it’s one you were born to play—in my humble opinion, of course.”

“Okay.” I meet his gaze, unwilling to fight off my urges
any longer. “Tell me what I have to do.”