“I'm thinking off-kilter,” I contended.
“Magnetic,” he shook his head, as if deeply disappointed in me.
“Nonsensical,” I taunted.
“Tantalizing.”
And then he cheated by capturing my mouth, my tongue, and 100% of my attention because he cankiss.Award-winning, bodice-ripper novel level amazing. His full lips circle over mine, sucking my tongue into his mouth and growling. Growling! His huge paws are cradling my face, and with his insane kissing mojo, I have no idea where we are. When I come to, I’m sagging against a dusty doorway.
“C’mere,” he said, slipping an arm around my waist which is good because I’m not sure I can walk, “I want to show you this place.”
“Was that a Boston Police notice you just ripped off the door?” I ask as he pulls me into the building.
Balling the paper up and tossing it aside, he shrugs, “It no longer matters. What do you see?”
“Is this a quiz?” I asked, “Like, Where’s Waldo or something?”
“Where’s who?” Dario says, a brow raised.
“You know, the red-striped guy who- never mind. What am I looking for, specifically?” I gazed around the cavernous room, the ceiling soars up two stories and a massive skylight sends the moon shining down on us. I see two bars on either side of the room, shiny old wood bar tops, and elaborate glass detailing on the walls. There are tools and unfinished drywall, so it’s not quite finished. “Saying ‘a bar’ seems almost too easy,” I say suspiciously. He smirks at me and I keep exploring.
“The private VIP entrance is over here, on the north side of the building, see the elevator close by?” he says, taking my hand and pulling me in that direction.
“Where does this go?” I asked.
“Up,” he answers without elaboration.
I wait. He doesn’t move, hands stuffed in his jean’s pockets, looking intense. “Okay…” I said cautiously, “Can we go up in the elevator?” He’s too anticipatory, so this has to have meaning for him.
He punches the button and slips a key card in the slot. Watching him as the numbers climb to four, I ask, “If this is a bar that isn’t just a bar, what else are you doing in here?”
“This is my favorite part of this place,” he says, ushering me out with a sweep of his arm.
Well, shit.
This part of his club is most definitely finished, and based on the circular, raised stages, cozier seating, and the artwork on the walls, it’s…
“A sex club. You’re opening a sex club?” I yelped. So much for looking sophisticated.
“The name is Deconstructed,” he said, circling one of the raised platforms.
A metaphor for my life right now,I think.
“My family owns the originalIl Decostruitoin Naples,” he explained with a devilish smile, “I designed that one as well.”
“Oh, when you said nightclubs and boutique hotels I was thinking something more mainstream,” I’m babbling and uncomfortable. My extremely limited sex life has never ventured past vanilla.
Until last night,Evil Cora reminds me.
“So, um, what does one put into a high-end sex club?” I asked.
“These raised platforms are for public play or demonstrations,” he says, taking my hand and pulling me down a hallway painted a deep shade of red. The lighting comes from beautiful glass sconces and gives the space a sultry feel, instead of a highway-to-hell vibe, which was my first thought.
Some of the rooms we pass have large floor-to-ceiling windows, and the contents of one make me suck in my breath so fast I choke. There’s a wall fitted with an enormous iron frame that holds more bondage gear than the entire inventory of the sex shop Kelli and I visited on a dare in Venice.
“So… people uh, watch?” I asked weakly.
“The biggest turn-on for the people in these rooms is knowing they’re being watched,” Dario says. He’s watching me too closely, my reactions to each of the rooms and it’s making me nervous, especially when he comes up behind me, putting his hands on the window and caging me in. “Would you like to be in one of these rooms with me, Bellissima? Coming harder than you knew was possible while men and women watched you?”
