“But he didn’t realize I was on the phone to you,” I continued. “Until I told him.”
Leon’s lips parted, then he started laughing. Although it was at Kai’s expense, I much preferred competitive mocking between them rather than attempts to kill one another. Now I just had to hope that would hold up if they were in the same room together.
Ultimately, though, I knew this balance could never last. Sooner or later, one of them would snap, and I’d be forced to choose. Just the thought of it made me sick to my stomach, so instead, I focused on forming a plan to visit Meow Lounge.
Leon stayed on the phone with me for a while, much longer than I’d anticipated, and it was just as enjoyable as the other night when we shared our pasts. He eventually told me that he was about to lose reception and ended the call with a solemn promise to see me soon. It made me all fluttery inside.
Putting my phone aside, I refocused my energy into a grueling workout. Then I headed into town to buy a costume for my trip to Meow Lounge. It felt good to have an objective again, even if it wasn’t the end game.
31
My shopping trip was very productive. So much so that I waltzed straight to the front of the line of scantily clad women and expensively dressed men waiting outside Meow Lounge just before midnight two nights later—the first night the club was open that week. The security on the door gave me a long once over, then licked his lips and let me in.
I was dressed in a black pleated skirt, short enough that my butt cheeks poked out from under the hem when I walked. My black push-up bra was complemented by a leather harness of buckles and straps, and my stiletto boots laced up over my knees. With plum lipstick, heavy eye makeup, and my white hair in twin French braids, I looked like a slutty goth schoolgirl.
Admittedly, I was a cold slutty goth schoolgirl, but a coat would have really ruined the look, so I sucked it up.
Heavy, admiring gazes of other Meow Lounge patrons coated my skin like syrup as I moved deeper into the club, but they didn’t make me uncomfortable. Quite the opposite; they assured me I was on the right path with my costume. After all, Meow Lounge wasn’t a sexy club, it was a sex club. As evidenced by the woman on the raised dais in the middle of the room, bent over a spanking bench with her wrists bound at her back. Behind her, a masked man railed her ass while another stood at her head, choking her on his massive cock.
All in all, I’d say she was having a fantastic night. I was a little envious.
Considering I’d come alone, though, I was going to need to find the owner with some good old-fashioned flirting. Or maybe I’d just ask the staff where he could be found.
Confident and calm, I made my way through the club, taking note of faces as I wandered over to the bar on the far side. Latex-wearing waitresses served drinks to seated patrons, but I was more interested in chatting with the bartender about where to find the boss.
I ordered a dirty martini, but the beat of the music escalated louder, making me need to lean forward to repeat myself. The bartender took a long look at my tits when I did so, and I was well aware that I’d just displayed my lace covered vagina to the rest of the room. But given there was a whole naked woman on stage getting dirty Eiffel towered? I doubted anyone was looking. Not to mention the copious other couples—and more—around the room engaging in a whole lot more than kissing.
“I get off work at three,” the bartender told me with a sly smile, delivering my drink to me a few minutes later. He was cute, younger than me for sure, and definitely not my type. But being attracted to someone didn’t even remotely factor into decision-making when I was working, so I batted my lashes and offered a coy smile back.
“Oh yeah?” I simpered. “That’s so far away, though. Maybe you could take a quickie sooner? A quick break, I mean.” I sipped my martini and gave a sexual moan, licking my lips.
The way the guy stared, it was like he didn’t work in a literal sex club. There was a busty brunette not ten feet away from us with her tits on full display as she rode a heavy-set man’s cock.
“Uh-huh, yeah, yes, I can do that,” the kid agreed quickly, his eyes already glazed over with lust. But a split second later, his brows rose and a panicked look crossed his face.
A heavy hand smacked across my exposed butt cheek, and I gave a small squeak of surprise.
“Back the fuck off,” my new companion snarled at the bartender, who disappeared so quickly it was like magic. “You… are fucking begging for trouble, mon cœur.”
I leaned back into Leon’s palm as he massaged the flesh he’d just spanked, and those stupid drunk butterflies went crazy inside me. “How’d you get here so fast?” When I’d spoken to him earlier in the day, on one of our many video chats, he’d said he wouldn’t arrive into Shadow Grove until tomorrow.
He hummed a small laugh, pressing his lips to my neck. “I lied, beautiful. I wanted to see if you really were going to turn up here without me. You do understand this is a sex club, don’t you?”
I turned around to face him, looking up to meet his gorgeous eyes. He gave me no space, either, bracketing me against the bar with his hands on either side of me. “It is? Oh my gosh, I had no idea!”
His smile turned predatory, and his breath warmed my lips as he dipped his face closer. “Danny DeLuna, you are a ticking time bomb tonight. Do you know what happens when a woman comes to a club like this, dressed like you’re dressed, and without a partner?”
I flicked my tongue against my teeth, grinning up at him. “Hopefully the same thing as if a man were to do the same. I’d hate to hear this was a sexist sex club that you’ve sent me to, Bunny.”
He laughed. “Yes, fair point. I can imagine if a jaw-droppingly handsome man came in here dressed like a devilish, slutty schoolgirl, he’d also be pounced on like a fresh steak tossed into a lion’s den. Or lioness, for equal opportunity.”
“Good thing I’m not alone then, huh?” I snaked a hand around his waist. He wasn’t dressed up in leathers and latex like a lot of the crowd, instead wearing dark gray suit pants and a black dress shirt with black tie. He’d gone for master over slave, and it suited him to a tee. All quiet control and public restraint packaged up in his GQ model body.
He gave a small groan as I rose up on my toes, brushing my lips over his ever so softly—trying not to mess up my lipstick. “So this was your plan?” he murmured, his hand moving from the bar top to my lower back, holding me closer. “Turn up looking like an available snack and flirt your way into an audience with the owner?”
I shrugged. “Flirt… whatever. Did you forget I’m an alpha-level honey trap?”
Leon’s eyes flared with heat. “How far would you go, beautiful?” He ran a hand down one of my braids, then carefully wound it around his hand to give a light tug. “When you’re trapping… what will you do to get the job done, hmm?”
I gave a short laugh, desire sitting heavy in my chest with the way he was handling me. “Marx, Bunny. You’ve been in the game long enough to know the answer to that. There’s no limit to what I will do to complete a mission.” I shrugged. He wanted to know if I would have fucked that bartender for answers? Yeah, probably. If that’s what it took. I’d been using my body, my pussy and mouth as a tool to get jobs done for years. Far longer than I should have. By this stage of my life, it meant nothing.
Leon tugged on my braid, tipping my head back further and peering down at me with an evil glint in his eye. “Good.”
My eyes narrowed with suspicion. “What do you mean, good?”
He was already on the move, though, taking my hand in his and pulling me along behind him.
“Marx,” I snapped in a harsh whisper when I realized what direction he was pulling me. “What the fuck are you—”
He whirled around abruptly, making me practically fall into his arms at the edge of the raised dais in the middle of the club. The threesome had finished, and a Meow Lounge employee was wiping all the surfaces down with disinfectant spray.
“Lee Sheridan doesn’t take meetings with pretty women who fuck his staff, DeLuna. You wanna catch his attention, you need to put on a show.” Without waiting for me to really think about what he was suggesting, he grabbed me by the waist and lifted me up onto the dais.
All of a sudden, in my six-inch stripper boots and standing on a raised platform, a whole lot of eyes were on me. Crap.
“You said no limits,” he purred in my ear as he stepped onto the platform with me, nudging me over to the bondage bench.