Chapter 1
Luca
Islide the half mask onto my face and check my reflection in the rearview mirror, making sure everything but my hazel eyes and square jaw is covered. My mouth hitches on one side when I shove open the car door, and a cool breeze causes my nipples to pucker. My excitement grows as I cross the footpath to Euphoria. I reach down to button my blazer with one hand while pushing through the entrance with the other. I’m later than usual, thanks to Coach Rourke keeping me back after the game to run over some new plays.
After dropping my jacket in the cloakroom, I strut down the dark hallway, nodding along to the music that’s muted by the heavy drapes separating me from the club.
It takes a second for my eyes to adjust to the orange lights as I push into the main lounge. A topless waitress walks past, but my heavy gaze sweeps the room, lingering on the half-naked dancers on the stage, then the cages where masked people are engaged in various sex acts. One holds a woman on her knees choking her on a dick,while another man pounds into her from behind. A group of people, all masked and in various stages of undress, surrounds the cage, some pulling their own cocks or fingering their needy cunts as they watch.
I make my way over to the bar, hoping I haven’t missed her because I’m late, and nod at Diego. He knows my drink order, and I don’t have to wait more than two minutes before he places two glasses and a room card in front of me.
“Is she here?” I ask.
“In the Angel Lounge,” he says with a wink. “Jesse’s working there tonight. He’ll take care of you.”
I take the glasses and head down the corridor that leads to the Angel Lounge, where everything from the marble countertops to the leather couches is a shade of white.
My lips tug into a smirk when I spot her, standing sideways to me and talking to a redhead woman in a devil’s mask. Wearing her signature silver eye mask, with her long blonde hair hanging in waves over her shoulders, she’s as beautiful as the first time I saw her.
I watch her for a moment, my eyes drinking in how her olive skin contrasts the white lace of the corset her ample tits are straining against. The sight of my angel’s voluptuous curves has my dick thickening in my pants, and my fingers itching to squeeze them.
Coach has been riding my arse ever since we dropped two winnable games a couple of weeks ago, and I need to work out my frustration. Once a month with this fucking minx isn’t enough, but we agreed from the start—no names, and no meeting up outside the club. I also insistedon exclusivity when we started this thing six months ago, because although she’s not mine in the traditional sense of the word, there’s no way the beast inside me could handle thinking of her with another man without wanting to hurt something.
Taking a sip of my drink, I saunter across the room, her devil friend smirking when she notices my approach.
“Ladies,” I greet as I step behind my angel, plastering her back to my front. Even with six-inch heels, her petite frame only comes up to the middle of my pecs. “Miss me?” I lean down and murmur in her ear, breathing in her scent of vanilla and oriental lilies.
A shiver runs down her body and she tilts her head to smile seductively up at me. “Always.”
Fuck. The sound of her voice stirs my body to life in a way no one outside this club has been able to do in years. Not since my second year at Beckford U when I walked in on my high school girlfriend with three of my ex-teammates filling each of her holes.
I threw myself into my game, ignoring all female attention and was starting to think I was defective until I found out about Euphoria through an ex-teammate six months ago. The moment I set foot in the club, my eyes locked on this angel and my cock came back to life.
Red Devil leans in and kisses her on the cheek with a wink and a, “Be safe, kids.” Then we’re finally fucking alone.
Angel turns to face me, her azure eyes sparkling, and I pass her the other glass. “Sorry, I’m late.”
“I was beginning to think you wouldn’t show.” Hermelodic voice soothes the remaining tension in my muscles.
“I’d never stand you up.”
She rises on her toes, her fingers tracing my naked chest, and presses her soft lips to mine. “Did you get it?”
My tongue slides across my bottom lip, tasting the whiskey and sin left behind by her kiss. I hold up the room card that cost me half my monthly allowance, trying to remember to breathe as my pulse increases from the promise of what’s to come.
“Good boy.”
Fuck. Me.
I almost blow in my pants like a prepubescent teenager. This woman has me wrapped around her little finger.
Angel downs her drink, signalling to Jesse to deliver our usual order in five minutes before sauntering off to the VIP area. She stretches up to whisper something in the bouncer’s ear, her dress riding up the back of her thighs. He scowls, as he usually does, then lifts the rope to let us pass.
I follow her down the dark corridor until we reach room thirteen. Yes, I picked the room that matches my jersey number. Sue me. Maybe I was subconsciously trying to give her a hint of who I am under the mask.
I swipe the card against the lock, which beeps then flashes green, then hold the door open. I can’t resist squeezing her round arse as she passes me.
Her blue eyes gleam with mischief. “You’ll pay for that.”
