1
EVELINA
When your back’sagainst the wall, there’s no measure to what you will do to survive.
Okay, that’s a little dramatic for a personal mantra. I’m sure I originally saw it on some lame t-shirt or Pinterest page.
But in my current situation—feet rooted to the floor, jaw hanging open, and eyes wide as saucers as I watch what can only be described as anorgyunfold not fifteen feet in front of me—it’s truly the only thing that comes to mind.
Remember why you’re here. Remember what’s at stake. Remember?—
Nope. Whatever else I was trying to coax my brain into remembering goes out the proverbial window when I hear the urgent groans of carnal ecstasy mingled with the violent and wet slapping of sweaty flesh against flesh.
To say that I’m out of my element standing in the middle of a kink club, wearing a mask andthisdress, watching groupsex unfold around me, is, bar none, the understatement of the flipping millennium.
Remember why you’re here.
Spoiler: it’s not to watch masked strangers have sex in a variety of positions and combinations, some of which I never even imagined were a thing.
No, I’m here, in the sordid, moan-filled lounge of New York’s most notorious and exclusive kink club, because I need help.
Heat creeps up my neck and face as I stare wide-eyed at the brunette being manhandled by two muscular, tattooed men on one of the couches in the center of the dark, elegant, seductively lit space.
Notthatkind of help, thank you very much.
The sensation that I’ve just been caught doing something forbidden squirms and tingles up my spine like uncomfortable, clammy fingers.
It’s not that sexitselfmakes me uncomfortable. It’s just…
My face throbs.
Okay, maybe that’s notentirelytrue.
On a bed barely ten feet in front of me, a blonde woman arches her back and buries her face in the sheets, screaming in pleasure as a big, built guy rams violently and mechanically into her from behind.
Thrust. Thrust. Thrust.
My pulse races. My palms feel sweaty at my sides as my nails dig into them. Despite the dim lighting, it still feelswaytoo bright. Too hot. Too stifling.
Why am I like this?
I tear my gaze away from the moaning blonde, then yank it again to avoid watching two redheads writhe on a man covered in bratva tattoos—one grinding against his crotch, the other riding his face.
Again, this isn’t why I’m here. I haven’t snuck into Club Venom to watch orgies. I’m here because when you need to make a deal with the devil, sometimes you have to meet him in Hell.
Ugh, that came out wrong. I don't think sex equals damnation or anything. I’ve never been religious, and I don’t view sex negatively,per se.
It’s just…not for me.
But I'm also not asexual. I mean, Iwantsex. I think?
I have desires.
Sometimes.
I’ve watched porn andtaken things into my own hands, so to speak.
On occasion.
