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No one expected my three-minute segment to blow up the way it did, least of all me. Now, I have a weekly fifteen-minute segment that ESPN picked up to fill a hole in their programming schedule.
I hate it. But I stay anyway.
Sports reporting is in my blood. Hockey is my passion. And the gorgeous man in front of me, well, he's the bane of my existence. I dream about him even though I shouldn't. I'm in love with him, even though he doesn't know I exist. Or didn't know anyway. I guess he does now.
When my best friend, Veronica Paxton, convinced me to come here tonight, I didn't come to meet anyone. Casual sex with arandom stranger isn't going to cure what ails me, and I'm a virgin to boot. But I came anyway.
I've heard rumors about this place for years. Every city in the world has stories of its own elite, invitation-only sex club. I don't know a single journalist who would pass up the opportunity to slip inside one and take a look around. Are you kidding me? That's like giving a little kid the key to the storage closet two weeks before Christmas.
I thought I'd come and see what I could see. I'd pass a little time watching the most powerful men in this city playing kinky sex games, and then I'd slip out with my curiosity sated. But I did not expect to find Jonas here.
Where is he taking me?
My stomach trembles at the possibilities.
We pass into a second room. I stumble in my heels, trying not to gape at the mound of bodies writhing and contorting in orgiastic bliss in the center of the room. Four men wrap around one woman, lips and tongues and hands working in unison to drive her higher. She looks as if she's in heaven, her head thrown back, her mouth open in a silent cry of rapture. Several men watch in rapt attention from comfortable furniture set up along the outside of the pit.
"Jesus Christ," Jonas growls, hurrying his steps until I'm practically jogging to keep up with him.
People glance our way as we move along the back wall, headed toward the red door on the opposite side of the room. Within seconds, we burst through.
I exhale a tiny breath as we step out into an antechamber, my face hot and my pulse racing.
"If I see another goddamn dick tonight, I'm going to snap," Jonas mutters.
"I've never seen one in person before tonight."
He jerks like I just struck him. "You're a virgin?"
"I…." I look at him with wide eyes, a deer in headlights.
"Jesus Christ." He drags a hand down his face, pulling his mask off. A sharp bark of laughter escapes his lips, his dark blue eyes settling on me in a way that makes my pulse race and my blood run thick and hot in my veins. "Why the fuck are you here, Jamie?"
"You asked me that already," I remind him, hesitant to tell him the truth. He already thinks the worst about me.
"I'm asking again."
"I came with a friend."
"You like watching people fuck?" He studies me intently.
I quickly shake my head.
"You like the thought of people watching you?"
"What? No, of course not."
He grunts…whatever that means.
"Do you…come here often?" I ask, not sure I want to know the answer to that question. The thought that he spends a lot of time here makes my stomach hurt.
"Never been here before tonight," he mutters, tossing his mask toward a small trashcan. His prominent brows furrow, his eyes narrowing in sharp assessment. "I came looking for someone."
"Oh," I whisper, slipping my hand from his. "Um, then you should go find her. Or him. Or whoever. I can find my way out from here."
"What's that look?"
"What look? There is no look. I'm wearing a mask."
