AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Yeah…welcome to Club Venom.
The blonde looks up and catches me watching before I can look away. She grins a sultry smile as she slides her mouth from the man’s glistening cock, giving it a cheeky lick before she beckons me to join them with one finger.
My face explodes with heat as I awkwardly look away and quickly bolt after my guide into the main room.
If that appetizer in the first room is enough to make me blush, the main course spread out in the central room of Club Venom is enough to turn me into a puddle. I’ve seen it before, but holy hell, I don’t know how anyone could get used to seeing this without leaving their jaw on the floor.
The scene in front of me can only be described as an orgy.
There are smaller surrounding rooms, like the one I walked through a second ago. And there are private rooms elsewhere in the building. But it’s this main room where the true hedonism of Club Venom is on full display.
“Enjoy your night, ma’am.”
The guide leaves me with a wink that I barely register, given that I’m staring dumbfounded at the scene in front of me.
The room is done in the same matte-black walls and gilded gold sconces and light fixtures as the hallway, accented with dark red, and has a vibe somewhere betweenEyes Wide Shutand a 1920’s speakeasy. There are two bars along two sides, with gorgeous, scantily clad male and female staff passing trays of champagne and cocktails.
The main focus, without question, is the very center of the room.
Because there, spread out across a couple of couches and a huge bed approximately twice the size of a king, is almost every combination of couples, throuples, and groups you could imagine.
Every hair color. Every skin tone. Every combination of orifice to appendage, and every pitch and tenor of moans and groans. The men’s bodies are gorgeous, the women’s are stunning, and you can spot the different criminal connections from the different tattoo ink on show: Italian Mafia, Russian Bratva, Japanese Yakuza, and some I don’t even recognize.
A slender woman with ginger hair and surgically enhanced breasts chokes out an intense moan of pleasure as two muscled guys with Bratva ink on their chests and arms hold her tight and slowly push their thick cocks into her—one underneath her, sliding up into her pussy, the other crouched over her, feeding his cock up her ass.
It takesa lotto keep my jaw from slamming to the floor. I mean, holyfuck.
Next to them on another couch, a stunning man with Irish knots tattooed all the way down both arms is fucking the absoluteshitout of a blonde girl who looks like she’s in outer space from the look of bliss in her eyes through her mask. The mangroans, pounding into her bare, swollen, pink pussy with one hand wrapped around her throat as the other brutally pinches her nipples. He gives each of her breasts a firm slap, then does the same to her clit as she shrieks in pleasure.
I notice his bracelet is red and black; hers is red and gold.
So their thing is sadomasochism; him a Dom, her a sub.
I’d never admit it to anyone, but I could stand here all night watching the erotic, raw, sensual display in front of me. But I’m not here to watch, squeezing my thighs together as my panties turn to a soaked mess under my cocktail dress.
I’m here to hunt.
So I pull my eyes away from the orgy and start to slowly make my way around the room. I pluck a glass of champagne from a passing waiter, taking a small sip as my gaze drifts over the various male fingers.
For a moment, I think I’ve spotted what I’m looking for. But it turns out to be brass, not gold. Another ring is gold and chunky, but as I get closer, I realize the man wearing it is in his fifties, which makes him too old to be who I’m looking for. Plus, it’s not a lion ring at all.
Fuck.
I’m beginning to think the woman at the front desk was mistaken when I suddenly feel a presence behind me.
“It appears you’re looking for something in particular.”
Sweet Jesus, no.
It takes everything I have not to whirl around and destroy him with my bare hands right here in front of all of these people, and I physically choke back a gagging sensation.
It’s him.
I know even before I turn around, from the slight French accent, and a tone I couldn’t forget if I tried.
It’s the man who, along with his buddy, killed Nina, not three feet from where a piece of my soul was being ripped out.
I take a shaky breath as I force myself to turn around. I do my best not to, but I still physically wince and recoil a little when I see it: his hand, wrapped around a glass of scotch, with the golden lion’s head ring with two blueish-white diamond eyes looking right at me.
