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This time, I don't say anything.Dionysusis a members-only BDSM club catering to Nashville's elite. If you've got money and a kink, it's paradise. I've been a member for the last few months, though I only ever stepped through the doors once out of sheer desperation to forget a certain curvy blonde who has been haunting me for months.
I lasted ten minutes before I walked back out, feeling like a fucking asshole. She isn't even mine, but just being there felt wrong. I never touched anyone inside, but I still felt guilty. I haven't been back since.
I'm not keen on going back. The club prides itself on keeping the identities of its patrons hidden, but when you play a professional sport for a living, your secrets tend to leak whether you want them to or not. Just ask my teammates. Keeping their names out of the press has been an exercise in futility lately.
Which begs one question…why the fuck does Jonas want to go toDionysusnow? I'm not sure I even want to know, but I ask anyway.
"Since when were you interested in BDSM clubs?" I ask, dragging myself to my feet.
"I'm not," he growls. "My goddamn sister is at the club. She left me a note. I need in so I can drag her out before I have to murder some country musician for putting his filthy hands on her."
My soul threatens to leave my body.
Jesus Christ.
I haven't seen Parker since she moved to Nashville a few weeks ago, but she's certainly been on my mind. We met six months ago, and she left a goddamn crater in my chest. I haven't stopped thinking about her since. It's driving me crazy.
She thinks I'm a complete asshole. I can't say I blame her for that. I was an asshole the night we met. But she's my best friend's baby sister, and I was dangerously close to forgetting that fact. I had to shut it down before I did something stupid.
Why the fuck is she atDionysus? The last thing I want to do is waltz through the doors with Jonas. He is not prepared for the level of debauchery we'll inevitably find inside, especially when said debauchery may very well involve his sister.
Fuck my life. Said debauchery may involve Parker.
If anyone has their hands on her, I may kill someone myself.
"I'm going with or without you," Jonas warns me. "But it'd be a lot easier with you."
"Fuck." I scrub a hand down my face, already knowing I'm not going to tell him no. It's Parker. Of course I'm going. "Fine. But you can't cause a problem inside, Jonas."
He grunts by way of answer.
"I'm serious, man. You'll have a mask on, but you're too recognizable." He's a fucking giant. There aren't many of those with the cash flow and connections to get through the doors at the club. "If you get us kicked out of a sex club and word leaks, Kelsey will lose her fucking mind."
Our publicist, Kelsey Lane, is a terrorist in heels. She's damn good at her job, but she lives for torturing us when we step out of line and make her job even the tiniest bit harder. I think she was a sadist in a former life. Hell, maybe she's a sadist in this life. I don't know. All I know is that she's fully capable of finding the most inventive, painful ways of punishing us.
I still haven't recovered from teaching a group of first-grade girls how to skate. They're tiny and adorable and terrifying. I'm never having kids, especially if they're girls. No, thank you. Return to damn sender.
"If I find her with anyone inside, I'm making no promises," Jonas growls.
I sigh heavily, shaking my head. If we find her with anyone inside, I'll be flipping tables right beside him. I can't have her, but the thought of anyone else touching her pisses me off.
I'm going to live to regret this. I know I am.
"Meet me at the arena in an hour," I mutter, giving in to the inevitable. "And wear a fucking suit."
By the time wearrive at the club, the night's activities are already in full swing. I contemplate forcing Jonas to wait in the bar where everyone is fully dressed and behaving themselves but I have a feeling he'll wander off on his own as soon as I go in search of his sister.
There are rooms in this club he doesn't need to see, especially if his sister is in one of them. Call me crazy, but I don't think he'd appreciate finding her dressed like a schoolgirl while she's getting railed by some dirty old music exec. Or gangbanged by a group that likes to play rough.
Safe, sane, consensual, and discreet are the only rules here. Everything else is on the table. There are no judgments here. The brothers who run this club know exactly who they cater to and exactly what their clientele wants. When you can have it all…well, the only thing left is the taboo.
I drag Jonas into the club proper, praying his sister isn't inside. If she is, she better not be with anyone, or I'm going to snap.
Sensual music and the smell of sex hits us like a wall. Jonas grimaces, his gaze drifting from one corner to another. There are naked bodies everywhere.
"Jesus H. Christ," he mutters, pausing as three men spread a brunette across a table and shackle her arms and legs to the hooks at opposite ends.
"I warned you."
