“I've heard about this club.”
“Have you?” I slide my hand up her hip and feel her shiver. “What'd you hear?”
“That I'm not allowed to go,” she says with a laugh. “Cavin and Erin go, and Erin told me, and I quote: 'It's an exclusive, high-end, curated sex club. Members only. You might find some things to explore there.'”
I can't help the low chuckle that rumbles through my chest. “Things to explore, she said?”
“Mm-hmm.” She's trying to sound careful, casual, but I can feel her pulse racing against my palm. Can see the way her pupils have dilated.
My girl loves being dominated. Loves when I takecontrol. When I push her boundaries and make her feel things she didn't know she could feel.
“I'llexploreyou,” I growl, pulling her into my lap properly so she straddles me. The ribs have healed, the bruises have faded, and my knuckles are mostly mended now. Everything's healing.
She gasps and winces as she settles against my already hard cock, her sore arse pressing against my thighs.
“Ashland.”
“The club will be a fun place for us. We'll get dinner first.”
“That sounds lovely.” Her hands come to rest on my shoulders. “What kind of things are at the club?”
Ha. Ofcourseshe’s fixated on that.
“All kinds of things.” I lean in, brushing my lips against the shell of her ear. “Private rooms where I can tie you up and make you scream. Open spaces where I can show everyone how beautiful you are when you fall apart.”
“I don't know if I'm intothat.”
“We'll see if you are.”
“What else?”
“Equipment I haven't got here. It's impeccably clean and highly curated.”
“Is it a place you went to often?” she asks, unable to hide the jealousy in her voice.
“No, lass. I haven't been in years.”
She's trembling now. “Wouldyou let other people watch?”
“Only if you want. No one ever touches you but me. Only ever me. But if you want them to see, if you want them to watch while I make you come, if you want me to prove to the whole bloody world that you're mine—I'll give you that.”
“Oh my god.” She breathes. “That's sodirty.”
I slide my hand up her spine, into her hair, and grip tight enough to make her gasp. “You trust me?”
“Always,” she whispers. “Forever.”
“Then I'll take care of you. Always,” I echo.
I kiss her slow and deep, pouring everything I can't say into it. When I pull back, her lips are swollen and her eyes glazed.
“We'll go next weekend. I'll show you what it's like to be worshipped properly.”
“You worship me plenty,” she says with a smile, but her voice is shaky.
“It's never enough.” I stand and lift her with me, and she wraps her legs around my waist on instinct. She doesn't protest anymore. I love it.
Lancelot huffs and moves over to his place by the fire, clearly unimpressed by beingdisturbed.
