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Intense relief floods me at the confirmation I didn’t know I needed.
“I booked us a private room.”
I nod.Thank god.While I’m interested in exploring my sexuality with Efrem, I don’t know that I want to entrust my body or my safety to some stranger we meet at a club.
The second-floor looks out on the main atrium of the swingers club, and I peek over the railing as Efrem guides me down a long, curving wall of doors that create a horseshoe around the perimeter of Proclivity.
Feminine moans and low grunts issue from behind the frosted glass. I jump when something heavy lands against one of the tinted windows, and when I look over, I can make out the curvy silhouette of a woman with her breasts pressed to the glass.
Her muffled cries of pleasure and the way her shadowed figure rocks against the window, I’m more than confident she’s in the throes of passion.
“Ready?” Efrem asks, one blond eyebrow rising as we stop in front of door 237.
Not trusting my voice, I nod.
With a swipe of a keycard, he unlocks the door and opens it, gesturing for me to enter first.
The mood lighting casts a warm glow on the room, unlike anything I’ve ever seen before. Black leather couches form a U in the center of the room with what looks like a dance platform in the center.
But as I take in the other, less conventional furniture scattered throughout the room, my mouth goes dry. A heavy wooden cross that’s been tipped on its side to form an X occupies one corner. Black nylon straps hang from each point.
Something that looks dangerously like the stocks used for medieval punishment stands not far from me. A swing without a seat, what looks like a woodworking bench, but with far more rope attached. An entire wall displaying whips and canes, and various restraints as if they were works of art.
I start to tremble, suddenly intensely overwhelmed.
And then Efrem’s strong arms wrap around me from behind, pulling me against his firm, reassuring chest. His lips trail kisses from my shoulder up my neck in an arousing line.
“Where do you want to start?” he asks softly, his lips brushing the curve of my ear.
For some reason, the simple question puts me at ease. I have no clue what any of this is, but I can trust Efrem. I feel safe with him. “You pick,” I murmur, and I’m pleasantly surprised to hear how even my voice sounds.
A low, appreciative rumble rises from him, sending vibrations through my chest and making my core tighten.
“Before we begin, you should pick a safe word. If anything is too much, you can use it, and I will immediately stop.”
I glance over my shoulder at Efrem, and the sincerity in his eyes tells me that “rough play” really might require a safe word. Suppressing a shiver, I nod. “How about… champagne?”
The hint of a smile tugs at Efrem’s lips, and his fingers capture my chin, tipping my face so he can give me a scintillating kiss.
“Perfect,” he breathes. “Now, take off your dress.”
Goosebumps ripple across my flesh at the primal, predatory shift in his voice. Like he’s the hunter, and I’ve only just realized I’m the prey. But I do as he says, stepping out of his arms so I can reach the zipper running down my back.
I glance over my shoulder at him, taking my lower lip between my teeth as I guide the zipper open slowly. Efrem watches me with a smoldering gaze as he undoes the buttons of his black dress shirt. My heart races at the thought of seeing Efrem’s naked body.
Until now, when we’ve had sex, we’ve kept our clothes on since we were outside, where anyone could stumble upon us. Now, with our own private room, he will be fully exposed. And so will I.
Nerves trickle into my belly at the thought, but I push them aside to undress despite my sudden, ridiculous shyness. Guiding the sleeves of my dress over my shoulders, I undress slowly, playfully for Efrem.
Air hisses between his teeth as I push my dress over my hips, bending to step out of it and momentarily giving him a full view of my black lace cheekies and ass. The sound sends excitement crackling through me, and a smile spreads across my lips as I turn to face him.
My heart stops.
He’s still wearing his black slacks, but he’s taken off his shoes and shirt. And the sight of his muscular body takes my breath away. Sleeve tattoos cover his arms and shoulders. The one on his left extending across his pec. It’s nothing short of artistry—the black ink, a beautiful, flowing design with faces seeming to rise from the smoke in random places.
The tattoo that spreads across his chest is of an eagle, wings open behind it, legs stretched down as if swooping in, capturing the moment just before it catches its prey. But as breathtaking as the body art is, it’s nothing compared to the beauty of his body.
Rippling muscle dominates his broad shoulders and massive arms. His pecs look like iron and rest above abs cut like granite. The sharp V that tapers into his low-slung pants, revealing the line of his hips and calling attention to his cock, makes my mouth water.
