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“Suit yourself.” He pushed away from the doorframe, the hint of a laugh still dancing in his eyes. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
I barked out a harsh laugh. There wasn’t much Kent wouldn’t do, but this? This was mine alone. A quick check of my watch—6:45 p.m.—and my heart pounded a staccato beat against my ribs. I pulled into the club’s shadowed parking lot; the engine cut with a finality that echoed in my chest. The car’s luxurious hum died away, leaving me in a cocoon of silence, thick and expectant. I sat there, leather seat cool against my back, the weight of the night pressing down.
I took a deep breath and let it out slow—a dull, insistent vibration against my thigh.Cynthia. Ignored it. I flicked the device to do not disturb without a second glance and slid it away. Out of sight, out of mind. Darius was the only one who could make me do this—ignore my life, my responsibilities. It scared me, that pull, like gravity from a dark star.
I stepped out, the hot air a slap to my face, sharpening senses already on edge. Shoes crunched over gravel, each step a deliberate march toward an inevitable end.
I noticed the black keypad with a rose on it. It was a world of secrets and hidden promises, where even doors were judgmental and there was no need for knocking. I pulled out my card and slid it across the smooth surface. The green light blinked, and the door clicked open quietly. This was it. The threshold between worlds—the one I had to maintain and the one I couldn’t resist. Each step forward felt like a betrayal, each breath a deeper entanglement in a web I wasn’t sure I wanted to escape.
The hallway engulfed me, filled with purple light and shadows. There was a quiet energy that lingered, replacing the wildness of last night. With each step, my presence echoed in the empty space, adding to the subdued atmosphere of this place of indulgence. Last time, Kent’s laughter had filled these spaces, his crass jokes bouncing off the opulent walls. Now, nothing. The breeding room loomed on my right, its door ajar, revealing an empty expanse that yesterday teemed with flesh and desire. The quiet was unsettling—no moans, no gasps of pleasure. Just the sound of my breathing, too loud in the stillness.
I moved on, driven by a thrumming need that settled deep in my bones. Footfalls muffled by the plush carpet, I approached the end of the corridor, where a sliver of light tempted me from a cracked open door. My heart kicked inside my chest, and a breath caught in my throat.Get it together, Weston. I hesitated only for a moment before my fingers reached out, trembling slightly, to push the door wider. It gave way with a soft creak, as if whispering secrets.
I stepped into the room, my gaze locking on to Darius. The purple haze cast an eerie glow around him, his presence magnetic and unsettling. Emotions surged within me, a turbulent storm of desire and apprehension. My heart raced erratically. Each beat a drumming reminder of the forbidden allure that enveloped us. As I stood there, transfixed by him in the dimly lit room, the scent of leather mingling with something primal and commanding filled the air. There was no turning back now. Every fiber of my being urged me forward, deeper into this realm, where surrender and control blurred into one intoxicating mix of damnation and salvation.
The room’s shadows clung to his form, a dark canvas against the stark contrast of pale skin and ink-black slacks. Darius lounged on that leather stool like he owned every inch of the charged air between us—his back casually resting against the wall, muscles relaxed. I stood there, fucking rooted to the spot, as my gaze slammed into his. The throb of my flesh was immediate, insistent—a pulse echoing the hammering of my heart. There was no looking away from him, not with those hazel eyes holding me captive, not when every goddamn nerve in my body lit up like the New York skyline.
“Your shit,” Darius’s voice cut through the silence, rough around the edges. “On the table.”
I turned my head; the marble slab gleamed coldly under the ambient lighting. I tossed my wallet, keys, phone—every piece of me that didn’t scream “need”—onto it. They skidded across the surface, a harsh scrape of reality against the promise of what was to come. My fingers twitched, wanting—no, fucking needing—to touch him, but I held back. This was his game, his rules. And god help me, I was all in.
The heat of his gaze seared my skin. I took a step, muscle memory drawing me to him like gravity. Fucking irresistible. But his voice stopped me cold.
“No. All of your things.”
I bristled, the retort sharp on my tongue. “Those are my things.”
His eyes raked over me, one damn eyebrow cocked in challenge. Heat flushed my cheeks.Fuck this.I huffed out a breath and began peeling off my clothes.
The crisp fabric of my shirt whispered as it slid from my shoulders—each button a soft snick in the silence. Trousers hit the floor with a faint thud, the slide of leather as my belt came undone. His eyes followed every movement, dark and hungry. My pulse raced, thudding in my ears, my chest, my goddamn cock. Eyes locked on his, I stripped away the last of my barriers, clothing pooling at my feet. Vulnerable. Exposed. Fucking ready.
The room hummed with anticipation, the air thick between us. Darius sat there, never taking his gaze off me, as if he could see straight through the skin and bones that made up my fragile humanity. I stood there, naked and raw, my breaths coming in short, ragged gasps. Every corner of my being screamed for him to take me, to make me feel something other than this endless, aching need.
“Get on your knees,” he said, the words coming out like silk, low and smooth.
The words hung in the air like smoke, and I felt myself sway under their weight. But then I found my strength, summoning it from the pit of my soul. I dropped to my knees, the cold floor biting into my skin. I’ve never done this before, for anyone, and I always told myself I never would. That I would never bend to anyone, no matter what. What a crock of shit.
He smirked, a cruel twist of his lips that sent a shiver down my spine. “Good boy.”
I knew what came next. I knew what he wanted. And I knew I would give it to him, no matter the cost.
“I thought I’d never see the day. Weston fucking Ashbourne crumbling.” He hopped off the stool and stalked forward. “I guess that’s why they call them bad habits.”
“Darius,” I finally whispered, breaking the silence that thickened like molasses in the room.
Nothing more came out but his name, and he was right. Only he could do this to me, only he could make me go to extreme lengths to prove that what we had wasn’t a fucking game or a fluke. He clipped a finger under my chin and lowered his face to mine. No words were exchanged, only a violent kiss, one filled with rage and hurt. He broke the kiss, his thumb trailing over my bottom lip before slipping down to my throat.
“I’ve always wanted to see you fucking beg, and now I finally get to.” His grasp around my throat hardened, his eyes growing dark.
Then he lowered to his knees and palmed my hard cock. I shuddered at the rough touch, my cock throbbing in his hand.
“Look at you. Fucking sick bastard, needy for me to beat your flesh because you refuse to fuck that soggy pussy your wife has.”
“Dar—” My words died on my tongue as he worked my cock, one hand hard around my flesh, and the other around my throat.
“Tell me, do you wish you could fuck my tight hole every night?”
“Yes,” I said, breathless.
