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The two of them just exist out here diabolically in plain sight when they should probably be locked up somewhere.

Rose lets up on his cock and sits back, letting me see every inch of it. And there’s a lot of inches. His dick is also pierced, but not just a Prince Albert like Haze but also a Jacob’s Ladder. I take a step back, and it’s only then that I realize there’s someone else in the room.

Suit, the club lawyer, is leaning back against the wall, his foot up against the brick, watching Rose give Angel head. He’s wearing a crisp white shirt, folded up at the sleeves, showing off hidden ink, and black slacks. I never even knew he had any ink because his clothes must cover them. He pushes off the wall and comes to stand behind Rose, pulling his cock out and standing there with his feet braced apart. He grips her hair and pulls her head to the side, sliding his cock in between her lips.

Angel patiently watches them with dark, ravenous eyes until Suit pulls her off and pushes her back in his direction. Angel takes his place, fucking her mouth. I’m frozen in place, wanting to run but unable to look away.

It’s not until Suit turns and sees me there, sending an amused and hungry smirk in my direction, that reality hits me and urges me to get the hell out of there.

“You like to watch, Cupcake?” Suit asks, both his and Angel’s eyes pinned on me. He grabs Rose off Angel’s cock and back to his.

Wow, these club brothers really do know how to share.

I clear my throat. “No, no. I’m sorry. I wanted to use the pole. I didn’t know this room was uh... maybe put a tie or something on the door next time. Okay, I’m going now.”

But before I can, Suit, that bastard, looks me right in the eye as he thrusts faster, finishing in her mouth. His face is a mask of pleasure, and I couldn’t look away if I tried. “Don’t swallow,” he orders Rose, but still keeps his eyes on me. “I want to see.”

My gaze drops to Rose as she sticks her tongue out, coated in his cum.

Oh fuck.

I need to get out of here. Now.

Quietly closing the door when I hear him telling her to finish Angel, I decide to head to the gym instead.

That wasn’t the kind of pole I was searching for, and I definitely wasn’t looking for a ladder.

Except now I’m kind of turned on.

Shit.

I never want to see Angel or Suit again.

After an hour of punching and kicking the bag in the gym, I sit on the mats and take a sip of water, my chest rising and falling with each deep breath. My mind roams to Haze. He fucked me last night like he had all the time in the world. And his stamina? I’ve had about two hours of sleep, and let’s be real, he did most of the work. I lost count of how many times he made me come. He’s insatiable, and spending the night with him is a workout in itself.

He’s incomparable to the other men I’ve slept with, but obviously, that comes with his experience.

It makes me crazy to think that most of the women in this clubhouse have experienced that from him, and they all know him in that way.

There’s a serious double standard because if I had fucked a few of the men, I’d be labeled as a club girl, and no one would want me for more than that. But because he’s a man, it’s fine for him to be a manwhore.

“You look very lost in thought there.”

I turn to see the man in question striding up to me. My eyes drop to his muscular thighs in his light jeans, then roam over his skin-tight white T-shirt and his leather cut.

“Just taking a break,” I reply, licking my lips as he stands in front of me and offers me his hand. I take it, and he pulls me up flush against his body. “You got any energy left in you?”

His lip twitches before he lowers his face to kiss me. My hands rest on his cheeks, holding him in place. “Always have energy for you. What do you have in mind?” he asks, his tone low and husky.

I step away from his embrace and lean down to pick up a pair of gloves off the mat before throwing them at him. “Think you still got it?”

He laughs, kicking off his leather boots and socks. We used to spar together as teenagers, but never seriously. In fact, looking back, it was probably our way of flirting. He takes off his cut and places it neatly on the weights bench, followed by his T-shirt. My gaze immediately zones in on his corded muscles. I am only human, after all.

“Don’t try and distract me with your muscular, tattooed body,” I call out, and he laughs, his shoulders shaking. That dimple on his right cheek makes an appearance, and it’s at this moment I know that I don’t just love Hayden.

I’m in love with Haze.

And the idea of that terrifies me.