“Perfect.Fuckingperfect,” I growl into her ear. I never speak this much during Masked Night, but with the voice modulator, I don’t worry.
Plus, I want to speak to this exquisite creature. And in order to help her explore what she desires, I’m going to have to speak to her.
“Come, siren.”
She clings to my hand as I pull her away from the scene on the sofa.
One of the bouncers by the door to the private rooms steps aside when I lift my mask just enough to reveal the tattoos on my throat, confirming who I am. Once my siren and I slip into the dimly lit hallway, red-hued lighting washes over the walls, where flames seem to dance, simulating the descent into a hedonistic world of devilish pleasure.
I type in the code when we reach my private room, and we enter. I never use this room; I always fuck my partners in the main room and the kink rooms. However, the staff keeps it fresh and ready in case I ever do want to use it.
The door softly clicks behind us, and my siren, who had been slowly scanning the room, turns to face me.
The room is as dark as the hallway, with the same flickering flames. Music plays in here; its low beat almost like drums pounding out a sensual, erotic rhythm.
As she stares at me across the room, her nipples spear the silk of her dress as her breasts lift and fall with her ragged breaths.
“This is your first time in a club like this,” I reconfirm, and she nods. “What do you want, siren?”
She’s silent for a moment, almost like she’s too shy to speak. “I want you to teach me.” Her voice is a mere whisper. “Help me explore what I like.”
“Your safe word is lotus.”
Shock ripples through me that I chosethatsafe word for her.
She bites her lip, tilting her head. “I thought the safe word is apple.”
Her voice is only slightly louder than the whisper she’s used so far, and I catch the barest hint of a German accent.
“That’s the standard safe word for Hedon,” I say, my voice still disguised. “But for you, with me, it’s lotus.” She nods. “What are your hard limits?”
“I’m not really sure,” she says quietly. “But no sharing.”
Even though I briefly considered sharing her if I had to, just to be with her when I thought she was here with another man, I know there’s no way I’ll share her with anyone else.
“And your hard limits?” she asks me, her voice low and husky.
“No kissing.” I’ve never kissed anyone. However, it feels wrong to tell her she can’t kiss me.
“Um, yeah, mask and all.” She laughs softly.
I stagger back a step. Her voice and laugh suddenly sound so much like Leeva’s that sweat breaks out on my skin.
But Leeva is far away, god-knows where from here. She wouldneverbe in a place like this. Not my little dove.
Plus, this woman has curvesfor days. Beautiful, luscious curves. Nothing like Leeva’s too-thin stature.
But more than that, her neck is unmarked, unblemished. There’s no stamp of ownership that marks her as Guerilla’s, making her forbidden to me. There’s no tattoo on this woman’s neck.
But still, I need to be sure, so I walk to her and tilt her chin. She swallows but doesn’t move. I put my fingers into the mouth of my mask, wetting them, then rub at her skin where Leeva would have Guerilla’s tattoo on her neck. No make-up or anything that could be covering it comes away.
There is no tattoo.
This isn’t Leeva.
Only my siren.
The perfect creature, who wants to uncover her filthiest desires and needs. And I’m more than happy to be her guide.
