Page 2 of Justyce
Shaking the weak moment from my mind, I grab my drink, dismiss Brandy, and turn to take in the club.
The room has a dark, decadent, and dangerous vibe to it. Sipping the whiskey, I gaze around the dimly lit area, watching the lights bounce off the mass of bodies that are either dancing, talking, or dry humping each other’s legs like dogs in heat. The small twinkling blue lights cascade around the club as the dark grey carpet fades into hardwood floors toward the center of the club.
Watching with disinterest, I see masked women and men buck and grind against each other, chasing any semblance of feeling alive, and it makes me pity these fools. Some of the women have their hands tied behind their backs in a lame attempt at being bound, which only sours my palate further.
I can’t watch these pathetic fucks anymore. Shifting my attention away from the pitiful human beings, I focus my vision to the left. The poles are furiously being worked by men and women alike, their hips gyrating against the steel like they’re fucking it. The crowd eats it up, whistling and catcalling, but all I can do is roll my eyes. The stripping is not a part of the club that I hanker for at all.
Knowing what I’ll see, I don’t even bother looking over to the right. It’s the same every single night: men crowded around poker tables, ogling at the almost naked women as they throw bet after bet on the table, half of them fucking illegal. I don’t even want to think of the underground gambling ring we have downstairs. My lip curls in disgust and I turn my attention to the middle stage to observe with a carnality that I can’t describe.
Although I’m across the other side of the room, I can smell her sweat, her fear, and the lechery flooding out of every pore while she stands naked and bound to the St Andrew’s cross. This is what gets me off. Call me a sick, depraved and sinister bastard, and I’ll smirk and show that’s exactly what I am.
The woman’s blonde hair cloaks her masked face from the crowd, but I still see her behind that façade. I have no qualms she’s a rich soccer mom who’s bored with her life and sick of her husband constantly cheating on her and not servicing her like she needs.
And that’s the beauty of Arcane. All our members are guaranteed their anonymity upon registration, which they pay through the roof to acquire. I chuckle lightly and shake my head because no doubt her husband is a member also. But that’s the thing, we’re all bedeviled by our needs, desires, fantasies, and every dark little thing that nestles so far under our skin that we don’t know how not to scratch that itch.
The bullwhip hisses through the air and connects with the woman’s abdomen with a crack. My black dress pants tighten across my groin and my cock jumps to life as her screams perforate over the music and through the club. Enraptured, I watch as he brings the bullwhip down again, this time against her clit. Chewing on my lip, I observe how her body shudders after the onslaught of the whip and how her cunt drips profusely. She’s seconds away from an orgasm, which means I need to get the fuck out of here. I can feel the beast within roar, but he’s not getting his way tonight.
Diverting my eyes from the stage, I throw back the rest of the Macallan’s in one swift swig, welcoming the burning sensation it leaves.
Sliding the glass across the black and gold bar, my eyes lock with Brandy’s deep chocolate pair. Her honeyed skin glitters under the fairy lights and I know that look in her eyes. She wants to fuck. Feeling the heat rise up inside of me, I quash it down along with the anger. Brandy doesn’t call the shots here, I do. The sooner she realises that, the sooner that love-struck look bleeds from her eyes.
Something flashes through her chocolate hues, and if I’m not mistaken, she’s pissed off. Solidifying my assumption, Brandy slams the glass of Macallan down on the bar, making my mouth kick up at the sides.
Cracking my neck, I rotate it from side to side and then around before grabbing the remaining glass of whiskey off the bar and standing up. I don’t offer Brandy a goodbye, we’re not friends, and my grin widens when I feel the daggers from her eyes being launched at the back of my skull.
I flip her the bird without turning around and head toward the office. I’m fashionably late as usual, but I don’t give two flying shits what anyone thinks as I saunter toward the hidden staircase behind one of the stages.
Moving the deep purple curtain, I lean in to enter the code when a small hand cups my bicep. Usually I would break that hand, crush the bones until there’s nothing left but dust, but a small smile curves my face, a smile reserved for my little sister, Raine Voroniva.
I know it’s her because she’s the only one that has ever had the balls to throw my shit in my face, or touch me. And I respect the hell out of her. She’s one bad ass bitch, and the only woman to take on her parent’s legacy. Unlike other princess’ of the past who decided to stay exactly that instead of taking the reins when the time came. Not me or my brother’s or sister share the same biological parents. Regardless of that, we are exactly that, family.
Turning on my heel, I look down at her hand still pressed against my long, dark grey dress shirt. Lifting my vision, I’m met with Raine’s fierce cobalt eyes behind her pearl white mask as I tower over her 5’8 frame. Unlike mine and my brother’s masks, Raine’s is a half mask. It is not only cloaked in wounds she’d rather keep hidden but is also elegant, like her.
The pallid ice blue tears drip down the face of the mask, slowly turning into the deep color of vermilion. Raine maybe a woman, but no one underestimates her because she’ll cut your hand off with your dick in it in a millisecond. Which is also why she runs the BDSM and stripper section of the club. Raine demands respect, and it oozes from every piece of her strong dancer body. I’ll always hold reverence for this woman. She’s encountered some horrible shit and still manages to jumps on my last damn nerve.
“You’re late,” she grates.
Here we fucking go.Feigning nonchalance, when deep down I’m pissed off because she feels I need to answer her, I say, “And?”
“Don’t start, Justyce. We don’t have time for your daddy issues.” She rolls her eyes behind the mask.
My fist clenches beside my body, and I’m ropeable she had to bring up my fucking father of all people.
“Don’t start with me Rainey, “I’m not in the fucking mood.”
She lifts her shoulder in a shrugging motion and the small movement makes her tits spill further over the glittery, black getup she has on, which means she’ll be dancing tonight. Raine is fucking hot but she’s not my type, and fucking her would feel like incest.
Raking a hand through my hair, I close my eyes and count to ten. When I open my lids I can see Raine is smiling. She’s always been able to read me, which drives me insane.
Her smirk deepens as do her dimples when she leans in closer to me. My brow creases and I feel uncomfortable being so damn close to her because she knows something I don’t.
With those big cobalt eyes glinting up at me and the size of her smile, she looks like the damn Cheshire cat. Raine has a secret that I know is going to have me seeing all shades of red. That’s the only reason she would be this fucking cocky. The next words that leave those pouty, knowing lips of hers almost has my knees folding.
Raine cups her hand over her mouth for theatrics and whispers, “Kenzi.”
Chapter Two – Justyce
The mere mention of her name catapults me back in time, back to a time when my life was less complicated. A time when all I had to worry about was who would suck my dick next or the girl that forever got underneath my skin: Kenzi Rose Adrina.
