I took timid steps toward the bedroom, with heavy angst and weary. Syx was making me lose my damn mind, but none of it was his fault. I was trying to tuck away baggage that wasn’t his to carry. Somehow, I was trying to flip this all on him, and his very being, but the rules were simple. I’m not suppose catch feelings for a hoe and that’s what makes this somewhat more twisted than it’s supposed to be, because it’s merely impossible. After the divorce, I carried most of my heart on my sleeve, but still I had hope that my true love was out there searching for me.
Rummaging through my things, I found my clutch in my suitcase. I wouldn’t need much and it’s not like a lot can fit in it, but I was able to fit inside towelette wipes, my Summer Fridays butter balm and condoms—just in case.
Trotting towards the bathroom, I did a once over to see if my makeup or hair needed a touchup, but I was heavily satisfied with my look so I rejoined Syx back downstairs where I found him typing away on his phone and when he heard my heels clacking on the tile flooring, he stuffed it back in his pockets, as if once again, he was hiding something from me.
“I’m ready now,” I spoke loud, sort of like I was announcing myself.
He jolted his head up and glanced in my direction and his eyes landed on mine. It felt so magnetic as if they belonged there. If I blinked twice it wouldn’t change the fact I saw him swipe his tongue over his lips in a sensual way that meant he was hungry for my body.
Walking over to me, I noticed he was holding something red. The closer he staggered over, I noticed it was a wristband. It was elegant and simple. “Before we go, I need to put this on you.”
I held out my wrist…the empty one. “What is it?”
“It’s a signal,” he said, while fastening the band. His fingers were warm against my skin. “It tells people at the club that you’re with someone—basically you’re not available for approach.”
“Oh, so it’s a territorial thing?” I asked, thinking of dynamics I’d read about in romance novels.
“Not exactly,” he said. “It’s about Dom and Sub dynamics or ownership. It’s just the rules people follow at this club. Most people don’t come unless they’re with someone and the wristbands make it clear who’s paired up. Red means you’re spoken for. It’s optional, but people respect it. See—” He heldup his wrist for me to see the similar band on his hand. “We’re wearing matching ones.
“And that symbolizes what, exactly?” I inquired.
“That you, my baby, belong to me.” He stated matter of fact.
“So no one will try to touch me or talk to me?”
“Not unless I’m right there and give permission,” he spoke. “Which I won’t. Tonight is about you observing, experiencing the energy of the space. Not about anyone else touching you.”
It was something about the way he said it. His tone was so possessive. It made me stomach flip. “Okay.”
“Do you trust me?” He asked as his dark eyes searched mine.
“Yes,” I said without hesitation.
And I meant it.
Chapter Five
The club was tucked away in a part of the island I hadn’t seen before, down a winding path that led to what looked like an old plantation house. From the outside, it appeared abandoned, but when Syx knocked three times on the heavy wooden door, it swung open to reveal a completely different world.
The interior was dark, lit only by red lights that cast everything in an intimate sensual glow. The walls were draped in black velvet and soft music pulsed through hidden speakers. It was something slow and hypnotic with a heavy bass line.
There were a lot of people here too. Most of them were naked. Their bodies on full display, but what caught my attention were the necklaces everyone wore in different colors. Some were gold, some silver, some black and some white, none of them were red.
“What do the colors mean?” I whispered to Syx as we walked deeper into the intimate space.
“Different things,” he said with his hand resting on the small of my back. “Gold means they’re open to being watched. Silver means they’re open to joining others. Black means they’re onlyhere to watch. White means they’re still exploring. There are other colors you might see too, but those are the main ones. You already know what red means.
I watched as a couple, both wearing gold necklaces. They kissed passionately against a wall as their hands roamed freely over each other’s bodies. My eyes squinted in the dimmed lighting as I noticed him saw fingering her. Oddly surprised, my mouth gaped open in shock. No one else paid them any attention. It was just…normal here.
“This is insane,” I breathed.
“Yeah, but I’m used to it,” Syx mentioned. “C’mon let me show you around. It gets nastier than this,” he grinned.
We moved through the main room and I couldn’t stop staring. In one corner, a woman was bent over a velvet couch while a man fucked her from behind. Her moans mixed in with the music. The guy fucking her was Trevanté Rhodes fine. His leg was hiked up on the couch as he gave her the business—fucking the shit out of her. Noticing Syx and I, his eyes roamed over me with a lust filled smirk on his face. In a territorial way, Syx draped his arms around me, claiming ownership and the guy looked away, getting back to the drill session at hand, noticing the red band too. In another area, three people were tangled on a large cushion, their bodies moved in a perfect rhythm.
“People just…have sex out in the open?” I asked, my voice barely audible.
“Some do,” Syx answered. “The main floor is for people who want to be seen. But there are private rooms too, behind those curtains.” He gestured to several doorways draped with heavy fabric. “Those are for people who want more privacy, but still want to be in the space. They like the atmosphere.”
