All Souls' Night - Renee Rose Page 0,167

introductions all around.

“Are you enjoying the party?” Temi adjusts her mask. “This is so fancy.” She’s standing close to me, and I can tell that she wants me. Badly.

I put my arm around her and run my fingers over her bare shoulder possessively.

She shudders and steps closer. “Some of the outfits wouldn’t be out of place at a BDSM club.” She looks up at me through her lashes. A few of the guests have altered their Victorian gowns to show black leather straps and silver buckles here and there, hinting at dark deeds to come.

“And what do you know of BDSM?” My fingers tighten just a bit on her bare shoulder.

“More than you might think.” She narrows her eyes at me and gives me a sly smile.

“Do tell,” I murmur.

“If you ask nicely.” She gives me an impish wink. “Later.”

I growl. She’s not nearly as innocent as she likes to seem, not with those dirty fantasies I saw in her head.

Dahlia clears her throat. “BDSM?”

Damiano gives her a wicked grin. “I’d be happy to give you a hands-on demonstration.”

Dahlia flushes—surely she has some inkling of what he means? I assume they’re going to have an eventful evening, either way.

The two women step to the side and chatter as if exchanging confidences, low voices peppered with bright giggles, and I pull Damiano a few feet away. “You planning to introduce her to the real club?”

“Most definitely. She’ll be on the receiving end of a few chef’s specials, in fact.” He chuckles. “I’ve got my ginger, my pepper oil, my cinnamon essence… I think the fair Dahlia will be quite the meal tonight.”

“Good for you.” My glance strays to Temi. “My little human will enjoy a taste of pain with her pleasure tonight, too, although we’ll be using leather and metal.” I’m thinking of how nicely her skin will redden under a sharp, supple whip. How her plump nipples will swell in my fierce silver clamps.

Damiano claps my shoulder. “I think it’s time for us to head downstairs.”

“Agreed.”

I turn to Temi. “Are you ready for the real festivities to start?”

Chapter 7

When Locke turns to me with that feral look in his eye, that dark undertone in his voice, a shudder of pure desire zips down my spine. He’s smiling at me, but it’s not a gentle smile. No, it’s the smile a victor gives to the vanquished.

“It’s time to pay your debts,” he murmurs, leaning down to speak into my ear. “Time for me to collect those promises you made so sweetly.”

I suck in a breath and put my wine glass, half full, onto the bar. “Why do you think I’m here?” I remember his hand on my ass, the hard spank. The way he bit my nipples. My promise to let him do what he wants without limits.

He takes my hand. “Then come.”

We follow Damiano and Dahlia into the coat check area, and I shoot Locke a puzzled look. “Where are we?”

A second later, the world around me goes a little fuzzy—and suddenly we’re through a door I didn’t even see, on a dark staircase. As the door shuts behind us with a solid click, the rock beat fades instantly to a dull thrum. When we approach the bottom of the staircase, I can hear new music. There’s electricity in the air.

“This is the real Club Toxic,” Locke says, his eyes bright in the dim light. “It’s only for those who aren’t afraid of their passions, Temi.” His gaze is hypnotizing. “For those who play with whips and safewords, and take pride in their naked beauty.” He examines me. “Is this a place for you?” He cocks a brow.

My heart pounds so fast, I may pass out. “Yes,” I whisper. “Show me.”

My first impression is of decadent perversion. It’s a sex club, obviously—a BDSM club. There are people dressed in Victorian garb, as upstairs, and some in lace and leather. Some are completely nude.

It’s like a surreal scene in gold and riches: Salvador Dali crossed with Gustav Klimt. A woman fastened to a St. Andrew’s Cross with thick leather straps cries out and squirms as a man in black strikes her nipples with a crop—again, again, again. I catch my breath as he works the crop up and down over the nipple, hitting from above and then below, slapping so fast, the leather is a blur. The woman’s cries are full of pleasure.

My hand is over my mouth with fascination. Moisture grows between my thighs and I bite my index knuckle—

“You