"No," I said, my voice steadier than I felt. "I want to see this part of you."
He nodded once and as he guided me toward the door, his palm never left the small of my back. A man built like a mountain stood guard at the door, his expression neutral until he spotted Rafe. Recognition sparked in his eyes, followed by a respectful nod.
"Mr. de Luca," he said, stepping aside without checking any ID or membership card. "Good to see you again."
"Marcus," Rafe replied with an easy familiarity that confirmed he was no stranger here.
We stepped inside, and the first thing that hit me was the music—low, pulsing beats that seemed to reverberate directly in my core. The lighting was dim but not dark, bathing everything in a warm glow that felt both intimate and exposing.
Rafe led me through a sleek reception area where a woman in a form-fitting black dress smiled at him before buzzing us through an inner door. "Welcome back, Mr. de Luca," she said, her eyes sliding to me with undisguised curiosity. "Any special requests tonight?"
"The Garnet Room," he replied, his voice tight with what might have been nervousness.
She nodded and pressed a button beneath her desk. "It's ready for you."
As we moved deeper into the club, my senses struggled to process everything at once. The main room opened before us like a fantasy come to life—plush seating arrangements scattered throughout, a bar along one wall serving drinks in crystal glasses, and everywhere I looked, people engaged in various stages of intimacy.
To my right, a woman straddled a man on a leather chaise, her dress hiked up to her waist as she moved on him in slow, deliberate circles. They were fully clothed except for where they joined, making the act seem somehow more erotic than if they'd been naked. Neither seemed to care who watched; in fact, the woman's head was thrown back, her lips parted in pleasure as a small audience observed.
My cheeks burned, but I couldn't look away. The shamelessness of it, the pure abandonment to pleasure, stirred something inside me I hadn't known existed.
"Are you okay?" Rafe asked, his mouth close to my ear to be heard over the music.
I nodded, not trusting my voice. In truth, I was overwhelmed but not in the way I'd expected. Under normal circumstances, walking into a room full of strangers having sex would have sent me straight back out the door. But with Rafe beside me, his hand anchoring me, I felt a strange sense of safety. Like I was protected not just from others, but from my own inhibitions.
As we moved through the space, I couldn't help noticing how people reacted to Rafe. Nods of acknowledgement, respectful distance, curious glances that were quickly averted when he looked their way. He carried himself with the same commanding presence he always had, but here it seemed amplified, as if this environment belonged to him in some fundamental way.
"You come here often," I said.
His eyes met mine. "Yes."
"Alone?"
"Always."
That single word shouldn't have pleased me as much as it did.
He guided me past a circular pit filled with cushions where three couples engaged in a tangle of limbs that made it difficult to tell where one body ended and another began. The sounds they made—deep groans, breathless gasps, sharp cries of pleasure—sent shivers down my spine. I squeezed my thighs together, shocked by how aroused I already was just from watching.
Rafe noticed, because of course he did. His hand slid from my back to grip my hip, fingers digging in slightly. "How are you feeling?" he asked, voice deeper than usual.
"Like I might spontaneously combust," I admitted.
His lips quirked in that almost-smile I was coming to crave. "We can stop and watch anywhere that interests you."
I glanced around, taking in the various scenes playing out. On a raised platform across the room, a woman was bent over an ornate bench, her wrists bound above her head while aman stood behind her, his hand delivering measured slaps to her ass that turned her skin a delicate pink. The woman's face was transported with pleasure, her mouth forming a perfect "O" with each impact. I wasn't interested in pain, but the dynamic between them—the surrender, the trust—made my breath catch.
"I want to see what you want to show me," I said, turning back to Rafe.
Something dark and hungry flashed in his eyes. "This way."
He led me down a corridor lined with doors—some open to reveal private scenes, others closed with small lights above them indicating occupation.
We finally stopped at a door near the end of the hall, a small garnet-colored stone embedded in its center. Rafe hesitated. "This is one of the voyeur rooms," he explained in a low voice. "There's a two-way mirror inside. The couple on the other side knows they're being watched but they can't see who's watching."
My pulse quickened. "And you've been here before? To this specific room?"
Eyes never leaving mine, he nodded. "Yes."
