Page 33 of His to Possess
The embarrassment and hurt swirling in my belly melt into heat and Philip chuckles at whatever he sees in my expression. “You’re not stupid. I know you heard what I said in the shower.” He meets my gaze, his eyes dark and hungry, exactly the way he’d looked out at me when he realized I was in the bathroom that night. My skin tingles at the memory of Philip’s movements behind that steamy shower glass.
He shakes his head, looking away again. “But wanting you doesn’t mean I deserve you.”
“Philip.” I don’t even know what to say to that.
He clenches his jaw, frustrated. “You really want to go to Club Wyld?”
I shrug. “Iamcurious. Besides, it can’t be much worse than Rendezvous, right?”
“It’s nothing like Rendezvous,” he snaps, then lets out a sigh. “Still doesn’t mean it’s the right place for you.” He locks eyes with me. “But if you want to go, I’m not going to stop you.”
I let his words dance through my head.Doesn’t mean it’s the right place for you.Is he right? Am I too inexperienced for a place like Wyld? It’s not like I really have any idea what to expect. Harper said nothing happens in the front room, but I find that hard to believe. I’m sure the mere act of stepping through the doors will feel scandalous.
But will it feel scary? When I think about being there with Philip, I do get a nervous tickle in my belly. But it isn’t entirely unpleasant. In fact, I think it might be excitement.
“I want to go,” I say, before I can stop myself. “I want to see what it’s like.”
His eyes search my face, that tight jaw still clenching. “Fine,” he finally bites out. “If you’re willing to follow the rules, we can go.”
My eyebrows go up. “The club’s rules? Or yours?”
That familiar, slightly wicked grin tugs at his mouth. “My rules, Lilah.”
Lilah
It turns out Philip’s rules are pretty easy to follow. Stay close to his side? Check. Don’t talk to anyone? Double check. Follow all of his instructions? I’m way too overwhelmed to make my own decisions right now, so that one is easy too.
“You look like a kid in a candy store,” Philip chuckles into my ear. “Your eyes are popping out, love.”
“You were right about it being different from Rendezvous,” I murmur back. It couldn’t be less similar to the place where I went to auction off my virginity. Where Rendezvous was seedy, Club Wyld is refined. Instead of the brash lights of a nightclub, I find myself in a lavishly designed lounge. The wood paneling, velvet draperies, and soft tinkle of jazz music make it look more like an old-world gentleman’s club. There are no neon lights, no pounding music, no people stumbling around obviously drunk.
But there is one thing the two places have in common—sex. At Rendezvous it was displayed more prominently and with less finesse, but that doesn’t mean it’s absent from Wyld. Apparently, Harper had been exaggerating when she said nothing happens in the front room.
The more I peer into the shadowy corners, the more my cheeks heat. A woman in a corner booth is dressed in a stunning evening gown—but her arms are tied behind her back in crisscrossing black ropes and her male partner has a dominating hand high up on her thigh. Another woman at their table has her entire face covered in what looks like a leather mask with cat ears. A few people around the room, both men and women, are kneeling at the feet of their companions. A few of the outfits, while high-end and classy, definitely don’t leave much to the imagination.
But even more than that is the feeling I get just being in the room. There’s an underlying tension, an energy crackling through the air. The room reeks of expectation and excitement, like everyone here is just waiting for things to get good.
Harper appears right in her element. She’s on my other side in the half circle booth, but she’s sitting so close to Nate we might as well be at separate tables. Her head is bowed slightly, and when I shift I can see that he has one hand clamped firmly on her thigh.
“Women like her tend to slip into their submissive roles in this building,” Philip whispers, apparently following my gaze to his friends. “Even when they aren’t doing a scene, she’s still responding to him as her Dominant.”
“Oh,” I squeak, my cheeks going red. “He’s her…I mean…she’s…”
Philip’s eyes twinkle with mischief. For all his misgivings about bringing me here, he certainly seems to be enjoying my naiveté. “They have a Dom/sub relationship, yes.”
I clear my throat, the flush on my cheeks rushing down to my chest now. I want, so badly, to ask him if he’s a Dominant. He must be—why else would he be a member here? Yet somehow, the words get stuck in my throat. It’s almost like saying them aloud would push us past some line I’m not sure I’m ready to cross.
“Oh, good,” Philip’s business associate says suddenly, and I force my gaze away from the man next to me. I’d almost forgotten we were sitting in a crowded booth in a room full of people. From Nate’s side, I see Harper grinning as she sneaks glances at us.
“Show’s about to start,” Benson continues, and I notice the lights in the room are in fact dimming. A lone spotlight comes up on the stage and the room immediately quiets to soft murmurs and rustling fabrics.
“This shouldn’t be too scandalous,” Philip whispers in my ear. His nearness is even more overwhelming now. Something about the darkened room has all my senses heightened and I’m painfully aware of his every shift and movement.
“What will they be doing?” I whisper back, heart pounding harder as lurid possibilities fill my mind. I may be completely inexperienced, but I do read. It’s impossible to spend much time browsing the romance section of an online bookseller without seeing some bondage books.
“I believe tonight is a dance performance.”
Sure enough, two figures step onto the stage, a man and a woman. Both have the long, lithe look of a dancer. When they step into the spotlight, their outfits are revealed. They’re not what I would call risqué—the woman is wearing a plain red leotard while the man is dressed all in black. But the moment the music starts and they begin to dance, their movements are obviously sensual.
