“Gros nichons.”
“How about ‘I wish I had some gros nichons’?”
“No…” Archer cuts in. “You have perfectly nice nichons.”
“Nichons is like tits,” I say, making Freya laugh some more. “And I agree with Archer. Yours are very nice.”
Keeping my gaze on the ceiling, I try not to turn my head to look at her tits, at least not from this angle. But from any angle, really, they are better than nice.
“All right, so if we come to your club, what should we do? What’s your recommendation?” Archer asks. He’s tossing a ball of foil in the air like a baseball, catching it and throwing it to keep himself occupied.
“Depends on what you like,” I reply. “We have private rooms to rent with toys and things. We have a dance floor, performers, and live music sometimes. And the entire lower level of the club is…you know…open.”
Archer turns his head toward me. From this angle, his face is illuminated by the red emergency lights, making his skin look even smoother with a soft glow. “What do you mean?”
“He means you can be naked and have sex out in the open,” Freya answers for me.
His brows shoot up. “I definitely need to visit this place.”
“I can get you a membership card if you’re interested.” I don’t know what makes me say this, especially since we’ve been so strict on vetting members lately, but after only a few hours, I feel like I know Archer well enough now.
“And you’ll come with me?” he asks.
I assume he’s asking Freya, but when I glance up toward him, his eyes are on me. Heat flushes to my cheeks as I clear my throat.
“Um, sure. Yeah, of course. I’ll give you a tour.”
Is he flirting with me or just being nice?
“What about you, Chef?” he asks her. “Will you come?”
“The club’s not quite my scene,” she replies nervously.
“You’ll give it a shot for me, won’t you?” he persists.
She simply shakes her head with a silent laugh. “Perhaps.”
Archer, bold and unafraid to ask personal questions, says, “Okay, Chef. You first. If you were to visit that club, what would you be into?”
Her jaw drops as she stares at him. “Excuse me?”
“I’m just making conversation to distract him from having another panic attack and you from having to pee. You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”
She screws her mouth up tightly. “You first.”
He shrugs. “Okay. I have plenty of dirty desires, but none of them are secrets.”
“Well, then…out with it,” she persists.
“I’ve always been sort of turned on by the idea of…branding or marking someone.”
Freya’s jaw drops. “Branding someone?”
“I mean like…a tattoo or a collar. Or you know, like, marking someone with my scent. Relax. I don’t mean like actuallybrandingsomeone.”
Freya still looks horrified, but I smile wickedly to myself. Never in my life have I met someone like Archer, so unapologetically intense. Everything about him excites me. Arousal pools in my groin at the thought, because I have a feeling that Archer wasn’t exaggerating.
There are a lot of ways to brand someone, but I wonder if he realizes the true nature of domination over another person. Claiming them as your own. The trust. The connection. It’s incredibly hot and isn’t all that different from my own tastes.
