Right?
So, if Catherine Lyons were to walk into that door tonight, technically she would be fair game.
I think.
But that apparently isn’t happening.
Chapter 4
Cat
I can’t believe I’m here.
I promised myself I wasn’t coming back. Not after Rand found me sleeping in my car in the parking lot last night.
Not ever again.
Yet here I am, nervously smoothing down a simple black, form-fitting strapless dress as I stand outside the entrance door to The Silo.
One of the most truthful things I’ve ever admitted to myself is that my feelings for The Silo are complicated. It’s a place I’ve loved and hated at different times.
It’s made me feel beautiful and ugly.
Needed and abhorred.
Powerful and weak.
The times I’ve felt good walking out those doors were fleeting, the buzz and adrenaline of great sex already a cold, distant memory. The lingering happiness that filled me from being desired and needed by others soon fizzling into nothingness.
But those times I’ve felt bad walking out… those stuck with me a lot longer. Usually through a scalding hot shower to wash away the sweat of others, while I sat on the tiled floor and chanted over and over again that this was what I needed to do to survive.
Oddly enough, The Silo helped me survive the sick perversion Samuel was intent on forcing me to endure. It was the lesser of two evils, and so I made sure I put on quite the show whenever my husband brought me here so he could watch me get fucked and debased because that made him happy. He watched with clouded eyes from his wheelchair, his mouth twisted into a feral grin, and I made sure he believed I loved every bit of it, because it was one of the few ways I could assert my independence from him. It was also how I could hurt him, if even only a tiny bit, because he’d much rather believe I hated it.
Sadly, sometimes I did love every bit of it. My lips curve upward as I realize, many of those times involved Rand. He’s an amazing lover and he’s adventurous. He is wide and varied in his kink, and even if he wasn’t fucking me, I loved watching him get off with others.
And that is the reason I’m here.
Rand Bishop.
A man I’ve fucked and sucked several times in the past.
A man I am immensely attracted to.
A man who has provided me unparalleled kindness in the last twenty-four hours.
I want him, and I want him tonight. It has to be here because I get the sense he’s deemed me to be off limits in his apartment. He wouldn’t accept my body as payment to him for his generosity last night, but that’s not what The Silo is all about. It’s about people making free choices to get their rocks off in an environment with like-minded people. It’s about sex with no strings or expectations, and pleasure as the only end goal.
Taking a deep breath, I reach into my little clutch purse and pull out my security fob. I punch the digital code it provides me into the wall panel, and the door unlocks with a soft click.
The Silo is the brilliant brainchild of business partners Bridger Payne and Woolf Jennings, although Woolf recently sold out. It’s a round concrete building with a white-domed top that looks just like an authentic silo. It sits just off the back of Bridger’s nightclub, The Wicked Horse.
While it might look like a colossal bin to store grain in from the outside, the inside is a massive round space with glass-walled rooms around the perimeter. It’s a sex club and all kinds of kinky, nasty, sexy stuff goes on inside this place. It’s a no-holds-barred type of club and anything goes as long as it’s consensual. Some of the things I’ve done in this club would make the devil blush.
As I exit the short hallway that leads me to the center, I immediately spot Rand standing up at the round, black-lacquered bar that takes up the middle of The Silo. I ignore all the other activity around me as I’ve seen it before. Fully dressed couples mingle with cocktails in their hands. Naked couples in the glass-walled rooms, fucking in every way imaginable. It’s all almost passé to me, because I’ve not only seen it all, I’ve done it all.
Just last week, I let Bridger lock me in a stockade, effectively securing me around the neck and wrists, and then I invited several men to fuck me. Pussy, ass, mouth… didn’t matter. Luckily, it was one of those nights that was a good one. I enjoyed it. I came several times, and when I walked out, I didn’t feel degraded. That’s because it was my choice to be there, not Samuel’s, and I did what I wanted. I also called a stop to it all when I was done. And trust me, after the seventh guy, I was done because I was sore and my neck ached. My wishes were immediately granted, and I was treated with kindness and reverence by the men around me. Bridger was there to cover my body with a robe and lead me off to the bathroom where I could get cleaned up and dressed in privacy.
Yeah, that was a good night.