Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 67211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 336(@200wpm)___ 269(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 336(@200wpm)___ 269(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
Her petite, curvy figure is covered under a blanket, and her shoulders rise and fall with slumber.
Why was she so sick? There could be many reasons, but I can’t help being suspicious as her illness came on so suddenly and severely. Since Club Verge lies at the heart of NYC, and though we vet our members and have strict protocols, it’s not unheard of for strange things to happen here.
My own eyes are heavy with the need to sleep, but before I do, I want to be sure one last time everything’s locked up tight. I go to the hall, which is vacant, and with a grim smile, check every bathroom and stall. No one’s here. It’s just me and Chandra. I shake my head and go to the dungeon. Everything’s been put away. The tools and implements hang on the walls and in the cases as they’re supposed to, already sanitized and replaced.
I lean against the doorframe of the dungeon and let my mind wander. What the hell is Chandra doing in a BDSM club? What has she tried?
What does she want to try? The image of her beautiful, curvy figure stretched over the cross or a bench assaults my mind. Part of me wants to wake her ass up and bend her over that spanking bench to punish her just for coming here.
I remind myself she’s old enough. She can do this if she wants to. Then I grit my teeth and flex my palm, itching to punish her ass for darkening the doorway of a BDSM club.
When I knew her, she was a young little thing. Legal, but barely. Seven fucking years ago.
It was why her parents hated me so much. They wanted to press charges when they found out what was going on.
She was of age, though, and there was nothing they could do about that. Not legally, anyway. They were fully capable of making her life a living hell, and fuck did they ever.
But I was a man of the cloth. Sworn to a vow of celibacy I broke so badly it was irreparable. I shake my head, trying to clear my mind of the thoughts that assault me from my past.
That was then. This is now.
I can control myself now. And controlling myself means not allowing the wicked thoughts that tempt to surface.
I give one more look around the room and shut the dungeon door and decide right then and there, the next time we open, I’m scening with a sub. Doesn’t matter who she is, it just matters that she’s unattached. Not looking for things like commitments and anything more than a one-night-scene. There are plenty single subs available and I’ll seek them out. I need to exert my control over someone. I need to exorcise these demons and erase Chandra from my memory.
I groan inwardly. The best damn way to do that is to invite her to my bed. God. Why do I have to have such a goddamn hero complex? Shaking my head, I walk to the bar area and scope it out good and hard. The pool tables are bare and brushed, the floors swept and clean. And nearly everything at the bar looks good.
But when I walk closer, I see something a little amiss. I tip my head to the side and narrow my eyes, trying to hone in on the details. What is it? The counter’s clear, the glasses neatly washed and put away. The bottles themselves look fine, and the stock of nuts we serve at the counter are covered and put away. What’s amiss? It takes me a minute before I realize the video camera Tobias has trained over the bar is covered. It’s so subtle, it’s barely recognizable, but as a Type-A dominant, when I was hired for this position, I covered every single base. I went over the cameras with Tobias and made sure I knew how every one of them worked. Every member who steps foot into Verge signs an agreement that all but the private rooms are subject to video surveillance. Tobias keeps the feed on in his office.
I stand on one of the bar stools, frowning at the camera, climb onto the bar and tug at the black film that’s covering the camera.
What the fuck is this?
I pull it off. It’s a flimsy piece of opaque material. I hold it in my hand as if it holds the clues to what happened. Who did this?
I climb down off the bar and head to Tobias’s office. The lights are off and the door’s locked tight. I frown. He never locks his door when he’s here, but he does when he leaves. Do I have the keys? I shake my head. This isn’t my place to pry. I need to call the police. I could try Zoe or Zack, both officers with the NYPD and regular club members, but when I glance at my phone, I realize it’s well past midnight. I tuck the fabric in my pocket and go to head back to my room. I nearly collide into Chandra, who’s standing in the doorway.