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CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
LAYLA
“It’s going to be remarkable.” I fix Tristan’s tie, lifting onto my toes to place a kiss against his jaw. We watch from the mirrored windows of his office as the first patrons begin entering the club. Slipping my arm around his, I lean against him. “You know it’s going to be amazing.”
He squeezes my hand and slips away from me, walking toward his desk.
“Before we head down there, I have something for you.” He begins rifling through one of the drawers. “You have come so far with your submission in such a short amount of time, learning so much about the lifestyle. You belong here. With me.”
He pulls a large, black velvet box from the drawer and places it in my hand. I lift the lid to find a beautiful platinum necklace. The thin chain loops through a Celtic knot of two interlocking hearts.
Tristan swoops my hair over my shoulder and pulls the necklace from the box. I hold my hair out of the way as he steps behind me and holds it for me to properly take in its beauty.
“The love knot is a symbol of two people joined together in love. The unbroken lines of the knot symbolize the eternal nature between two lovers,” he explains, working to fix it behind my neck. Clicking the clasp, his fingers dance down the length of my neck. “To me, this symbolizes that you’re mine.”
“Forever,” I softly exhale, running my fingers over the knot resting at the base of my throat.
“To everyone else here, this shows them that you belong to me.” He kisses my shoulder before turning me to face him. He stares down at me and asks, “Are you sure you’re ready?”
“I want to.” I nod.
I’m nervous as fucking hell about it.
But in the best of ways.
“Your mask.” Tristan grabs a lace mask from the top of his desk. I hold it in place for him as he secures the bow at the back of my head to affix it to my face.
He places his hand on the small of my back and begins to lead me to the door. Tristan’s face is still bare. “What about your mask?”
“It’s my club, mo cuishle. I have no anonymity here. The masks are to provide a bit of comfort to those who have not openly attended a club before or announced to the world their lifestyle choices.”
With my arm hooked in the crook of his, we make our way downstairs to join the quickly growing myriad of guests. The lounge is packed with the city’s wealthiest. Every person is dressed in expensive, well-tailored suits or black designer cocktail dresses. Some in masks and some without.
“I need to mingle with a few blokes.” Tristain feigns an eye roll. “Go wander. I’ll come find you in a few minutes.”
Doing as he asked, I make my way deeper into the club. And I’m not alone. People are moving from the lounge and into the club much faster than I could have imagined. The private rooms quickly filling with those looking to try something—or someone—new. Other rooms are already filled with members looking to play for an audience.
Small crowds grow at the windows for both. Men and women eagerly watch their fellow socialites being bound, receiving zealous strikes of a paddle, or merely fucking.
Walking past a window with the curtain wide for viewing, I’m stopped in my tracks when I see what is happening on the other side.
It’s one of the simplest rooms in this hall, containing nothing more than a small armoire—containing a few toys, a mini refrigerator with water, fruit, and lube—an oversized leather armchair, and a bed big enough to comfortably accommodate groups.
Tonight, it contains three. Two men and a woman. The men are both remarkably good-looking, with impeccable physiques. One younger and one a good decade older, based solely upon his salt-and-pepper hair.
The woman is equally as beautiful, her hands bound to the headboard and her legs willingly splayed on the bed for the two of them. They rub and kiss over her skin as though they were placed in the room for the sole purpose of pleasing her.
My heart races—pounding against my rib cage—watching them, and my breaths are equally as rapid. Both raging at a pace as though I am the woman in the room, struggling to handle the pleasure her partners are giving her.
Both men suck at each of her nipples, their hands teasingly dusting over her pussy as she begins to writhe beneath them. The older of the two begins to kiss down her stomach until his face is nestled between her thighs. He licks and sucks at her pussy, urging the other man to join him.
My thighs clench together when he does, the two of them taking turns sliding their tongues through her pussy. Both tease her as they begin to grow hard.
“Do you like what you see, mo cuishle?” Tristan’s voice startles me, and I suddenly wonder how long I’ve been staring through this window.
“Yes,” I gasp, watching the woman beyond the pane orgasm. Neither of them gives her any reprieve. The younger man thrusts himself into her with such force I can practically feel it between my thighs as the other kisses her hard and deep. He watches her being fucked from her head, thoroughly enjoying every moan and cry that comes from her.
Tristan snakes his arms around me from behind and pulls my back flush to his chest. He places a soft kiss behind my ear and whispers, “Does watching her make you envious?”
