Page 80 of Midnight Curfew

Anna-Katherine springs to mind.

She’s twenty. Callum is unmarried and plays in here.

I slow my pace, dropping my eyes. She hasn’t been in here, has she?

No. They’d…

They would keep the young, unmarried women untainted by a place like this.

And, I’m sure, as something to look forward to.

I shake my head. No. Garrett Ames wouldn’t allow her in here, and her mom is actually decent. She’d protect her.

It’s still something to wrap my head around, though—family members running into each other in here. I mean, I hear my brothers going at it with women, and I hear Liv with Clay through the walls well enough, but I don’t want to see any of it. Even when Iron and I share, the girl is the focus. If I’m not playing, I don’t stay in the room.

I’ll watch Rip and Tyson screw but not family. It’s weird.

Is Ames around in here when Callum does it?

I narrow my eyes, remembering Garrett Ames’s words to me before he left town. It’s time to let Callum prove himself.

I take a swig from my bottle, Callum’s words in my bed all those years ago swirling in my stomach instead of the beer. I like you…

All in the past, and Callum’s father is his own problem.

If he needs help fucking women, though, I have more I can teach him.

“Can you help me?” a woman moans.

Lifting my head, I see that I’m standing in front of a young woman with long, light brown hair and bangs curling over a red blindfold. She stands with her hands tied above her head to an aluminum pole, wearing only a G-string. Sweat glistens above her lip, locks of damp hair sticking to her breasts.

Looking around, I see almost everyone engaged in their own play, only one couple glancing at her.

“My husband is somewhere in here,” she pants, “and he controls the vibrator.”

I lower my eyes, noticing there’s a device in her panties, some of the fabric much darker than the rest.

“He’s not letting me come.” Her breathing shakes, her full red lips trembling. “Finger me, fuck me, suck me, I don’t care.”

My eyebrows shoot to my scalp.

“Please?” she begs.

“Why’s he not letting you come?”

She tugs her bottom lip between her teeth, flinching a little. “I let his boss eat my pussy.”

I look around, finally noticing a group in an alcove, watching us. The figure in the middle is too far away to identify, but we have his attention.

“And that’s where he drew the line?” I spit out.

“I let him do it a lot.” She gives a weak laugh. “He’s good at it.”

An image of her at her husband’s building with her skirt hiked up and her ass planted on the boss’s desk. My cock fucking twitches. “Jesus.”

Well, I don’t feel sorry for him. He’s in here, having fun, isn’t he?

He’s not a saint.