Page 48 of Breaking Free

“Cock and ball torture. The metal cage locked onto the man’s genitals is a perfect example.”

“Ouch,” she whispered.

“I can’t say from personal experience, but ouch seems like an understatement.”

“Are you into creative punishments, too?” she asked, her eyes not leaving the scene.

“While I’m not opposed to flogging a misbehaving submissive who’s earned it, I’m no sadist. I prefer the beauty, creativity, and control of shibari.”

She glanced up at him, pretty pink mouth pursed.

“You seem surprised?”

“I am, a little. You seem like the whip-wielding type.”

He caught her chin in his hand and tipped her face up to his, stating low to not disturb Kara or Allen. “I’ll remind you what you told me once about not judging a book by its cover.”

Her smooth brow furrowed, and a blush rose to her cheeks. “You’re right, of course. My apologies.” When he released her chin, her eyes stayed on him. “In truth, I can see the appeal of shibari. The skill required amazed me, as did the level of trust involved. I found it fascinating.”

“If we’re going to talk, the front row during a scene isn’t the place.” With his hand on her back, he moved them along.

They stopped in front of a station with one of the three new fucking machines. It pistoned away between the legs of a sub bound to an upright cross. From the sheen of sweat on her skin and her steady wails of pleasure, Eric’s purchase was money well spent.

“What do you hope to find here, Piper?”

Several groans and a desperate plea to stop emanated from the woman on the cross, but he heard not a peep from beside him. Tristan glanced down and took in her crimson cheeks, the rapid rise and fall of her chest, and her gaze, fixated on the scene. Clearly, the circuit, with the sights and sounds of a host of things she hadn’t witnessed before, wasn’t conducive to talking, either.

He clasped her hand and pulled her away from the distractions of the stations to a vacant booth along the outer wall. He waved her onto one of the padded benches and sat across from her—keeping temptation at arm’s length.

“Now then, perhaps you can answer my previous question.”

She blinked at him—innocence personified. “I’m sorry. I didn’t hear you ask one.”

“You were preoccupied, which is understandable. I asked what you hoped to find here. An adventure? Sex? Danger? Or do you have a fantasy you’re trying to fulfill?”

“A little of all of that, I guess. Before helping Josie with her booth last weekend, I didn’t think places like this existed outside of romance novels.”

“You’re not shocked by what you see?” Tristan asked, raising a skeptical eyebrow.

“Oh, but I am. Completely. It’s also hard to look away.”

“Are you actually considering joining?” he inquired, studying her closely.

She looked down at her folded hands before answering. “That’s what I’d hoped to decide tonight.”

“Decadence is pricey,” Tristan warned. “Our typical member isn’t a twenty-something aspiring actress unless they have a trust fund or a wealthy sponsor.”

She glanced at him, one smooth blonde brow arched. “Is the security business so lucrative?”

Tristan leaned back in his chair, his gaze fixed on her. “In LA, absolutely. Especially when you’re good at it. The same holds true with the club, which I was fortunate enough to buy into when I came to work at Rossi.”

“My sublet is reasonably priced, and my career is taking off,” she said at length. “I think I can swing it.”

“What about your small-town values? Can you set them aside so easily?”

“I mentioned I was a Midwesterner when I returned your mail but said nothing about my family. How did you know about my father?”

“Rossi does the club’s security screenings, and owners have access. We all sit on the membership committee.”

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