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“Now it’s your turn.”
He jerks his head up causing long strands of dark hair to tumble over his forehead. It’s sexy as fuck and I want to reach out to move the fan of hair back in place. But I keep my feet glued to the floor and my hands where they belong—to myself.
“To do what?” He drops the clipboard to his side and his impressive height keeps my chin tilted up.
His tone makes me feel like I should snap to and stand at attention. Follow it up with a “yes, sir”. I mentally shake off the feeling, but that doesn’t change the strong military alpha vibes that roll off him. I wonder if he has an eagle tattoo or some flag gracing his body somewhere.
He cants his head, studying my face in the same manner I studied the rest of him just a moment ago. It feels personal and a little like he is looking for all my imperfections and lies. Or, maybe that’s just me. He drifts his substantial weight to the back of his heels like he needs clarification on my statement. Thick thighs and thicker biceps stand out the most when he crosses his arms over that jacked chest of his.
I can feel my lip twitch with a smirk. “Give me your name. It’s only polite. Tit for tat.” Snickers and snorts travel down the line but I shrug them off. Mr. Sinfully Gorgeous here doesn’t pay them any attention either.
The perfect tip of well-formed lips tilts up in a smirk to mirror mine. “That a fact, beautiful? Tit for tat?”
I nod and refuse to let his pet’s name play with my libido. On the outside, I’m all cool and calm. On the inside it’s a chaotic party of nerves. And I won’t lie, being called beautiful by him did things to my untouched pussy.
Sweat turns my grip on my Birkin to butter. “‘Tis true. There’s no book on manners but…wait. That’s not true.” I tap a finger to my lip letting my sass hang in the air a minute. “I can’t recall the title of it, but I’m sure there’s an ebook version. Or print. You don’t seem to be the forward-thinking type. More old school, aren’t you,beautiful.” He wants to play word games, I can handle that.
It’s when I wink at him that fine lines fan out from the corners of his eyes when wicked intentions grip his expression. There’s no other way of describing the glint in his eyes and the way his mouth flatlines before spreading into a grin I’ve never seen on a man before.
Not a sane one anyway.
There’s a desperate part of me that just raised her hand screaming,pick me, pick me.
“Did you just insult me?” He stares at me expectantly.
“If you have to ask, then you might need that manners book after all.”
That grin of his deepens across his face and not for the first time in my life I feel like I’ve stepped into the deep end of life.
He crooks a finger at me and signals for me to follow him toward the back of the office. Great, this is where I am pulled aside, told I’m a bit too much for what they had in mind and I’m sent home. Not that I’ve tried to do a lot of secret sex club work, but let’s just say this won’t be the first time I’m sent packing.
Mr. Sinfully Gorgeous touches the black and gold wall.
I pause. “And?”
A hidden panel swings open and I’m ushered through to another room that is much the same as the last. At my back, there are a lot of gasps and harsh whispers. I don’t give them a second thought.
A warm, gentle touch settles on the dip in my back guiding me through the doorway. How can his hand feel so warm when the man most definitely is not? I turn a genuine smile up at him as I pass into the next room.
Does this mean I advanced to the next level?
The click of the panel snicking closed behind us says I might not be serving drinks or cleaning toilets after all. Score! But I just followed a strange man into a dark room. Not good.
I drag my eyes off the exotic females performing sex shows beyond the sound proof viewing windows to find two more men with an open bottle of whiskey between them.
I gasp, my heart jumping into my throat. “Oh, hello,” I say with a confidence I don’t feel.
A wall of warmth radiates around me from Mr. Sinfully Gorgeous coming to stand close enough that I can feel the heat of his body brush against mine.
The hand on the dip of my back returns and he gently pushes me deeper into the room, whispering, “We won’t bite, sweetheart,” in a husky growl that sends mixed signals straight to my clit. I like my murder mysteries and true crime podcasts, but I don’t want to become one.
My mind sputters between wanting to be here and hitting the door at top speed. “Where am I?” Answers then decisions.
“In a private office in Club Sin. You’re safe here. No harm will come to you, you have my word.”
I didn’t know him from a stranger on the street. But the way he holds my hand in one of his and keeps his other on my back, lightly caressing me through the thin fabric of my dress soothes my nerves.
He turns his head and says to the other men, “Gentleman, this is Belle Sinclair. She’s come to audition for the position in the newspaper.” He walks forward and takes a seat next to the other two, leaving me where I stand.
