Page 8

Scarlett

It’s taken a few weeks, but I’ve made it back in the saddle.

I’m going to walk in there with my head held high—wearing any color but red—and Cunnilingus Casanova is just going to have to deal with it. He may be able to command me in the bedroom, but he needs to understand I’m my own person.

I refuse to be intimidated.

I think I’ll even give him a taste of his own medicine by finding a completely different partner. I have no doubt he’s going to approach me tonight, but this is perfect weather for a cold shoulder.

The elevator slides open, and it’s comforting to see the usual mob of dancers gyrating under the chandelier while “Antidote” by NOT A TOY blares over the stereo.

Penelope and I make a pit stop at the bar to throw back our first round of drinks, then order a second pair to take right to the dance floor. Before long, we’re jumping to the music, sweating our asses off, and laughing like we don’t have a care in the world.

Fuck, I missed this .

There’s something so hypnotic about Eden that I’ve never experienced anywhere else; I just can’t put my finger on it. My head feels light and airy, like I’m floating with every step I take. My skin is so conductive, every brush of Pen’s fingers against me sends a volt of electricity through my body and straight to my core. I can’t move, breathe, or touch anything without it eliciting pure euphoria and arousal.

Maybe it’s the secret sex rooms in the back.

Maybe it’s something else.

We’re close enough that I’ve been able to scope out the bar while we dance, just lying in wait for him to appear. It didn’t take long to spot him; I just had to look for the purple mask.

That makes three times now that he’s miraculously matched with me, despite having no prior discussion about it. I’m beginning to wonder if he’s watching me outside the club.

Unfortunately for him, his friend is sporting a blue mask like Penelope. It’s the same man I’ve had my eye on since the first night at Eden when he approached us at the bar—before Pen scared him away.

“Let’s go to the bathroom quick!” I shout over the deafening bass, then drag her by the wrist until we reach the ladies’ room. “How much do you love me?” I’m still out of breath from dancing, but the struggle for air doesn’t compare to the anxiety I’m fighting.

She looks concerned but humors me anyway. “Uh, you know I’d die for you, but what are you getting at?”

“Your mask,” I pant. “Switch masks with me.”

I wasn’t anticipating her response to be this dumbfounded look on her face, but there it is. “Scarlett, no!” She rips her arm from my grip and walks to one of the sinks to fix her makeup.

“Pen, please. When have I ever asked you for anything? Just do this one thing for me,” I beg .

She crosses her arms over her chest, gawking at me with an unamused expression. “For one, you asked me for the ‘in’ to this place, and now you want me to help you break the rules? We could be banned for life if we get caught. What’s the big deal?”

I run my fingers through my hair, trying to think of the best way to explain so I don’t sound crazy. “I don’t know how to make you understand, but you’ve seen him. If he knows we matched masks again, he’ll convince me to go back with him…and I don’t want to.”

“So don’t do it. He’s just some fuckboy, it’s not like he can make you do anything.”

I join her at the sink and check my own face for touch ups. “I know it sounds stupid, but when he’s around me, I fall under his spell. I just want one night to be free of him, and to make a point that he doesn’t have any control over me.”

The puppy dog eyes I keep flashing her in the mirror seem to be working, because she sighs heavily and unties the blue mask from behind her head. “You owe me…like so big for this. And if we get kicked out, you’re finding us a new club,” she says, shoving the mask against my chest.

“Deal.” I smile while removing my own mask, then we help each other tie into opposite colors. “Have I told you lately how much I love you?”

“I’ll take your declaration in the form of alcohol. A lot of alcohol.” She tries her best to act disappointed, but it soon fades. “I can’t believe I’m about to get my ass beat to hell for you.”

She won’t admit it, but she’s very much like me in the sense that she finds rebellion exhilarating. Maybe she’ll come out of tonight thanking me for the change in scenery.

We make our way back out to the bar and order our drinks—a vodka cranberry for me and a bay breeze for her. I’ve conveniently chosen the bar stool next to Casanova, but I keep stealing glances around his shoulder to make eye contact with his friend. He notices me almost immediately, tipping his head slightly to the side in acknowledgement .

It’s now or never.

I’m not a complete idiot; I saw them ‘cheers’ me from the bar when I was bawling like a little bitch after Casanova abandoned me. I know they’re together. He probably told his friend all about the things he did to me and how upset I got—but that’s not me anymore. Not tonight, at least.

I approach the long-haired beauty while keeping my back to Casanova, icing him out as he once accused me of doing. “Would you like to dance?”

That small head tilt he gave me earlier is nothing compared to now. Like an intrigued puppy, he bends his neck to the other side until his ear lays against his shoulder. His dark eyes survey me from head to toe.

I look decent tonight, having kept the three-inches-too-tall heels to pair with a new skin-tight red dress I bought specifically for my return to Eden.

“Does it look like I dance?” His voice is as deep as I remember, just a lot less friendly. Alright, Broody Brody .

I drop my shoulders, not sure what to do with this deflated balloon of confidence. “Well, can I buy you a drink at least?” I manage a small smile, looking up at him hopefully.

“Are you sharing? My friend here would love one as well.” He nods his head in the direction of the man behind me, but I don’t need to think about my answer.

“Just you.”

I’m not playing their games tonight. If they want to start toying with me, I’ll just find someone else.

“Hm, that’s too bad. Alright, I’ll bite.” He turns to the bartender and orders a vodka on the rocks . My kind of guy . “You know, this color doesn’t suit you. You sure you know what you’re doing?”

He doesn’t know a thing about me. Who is he to say what my color is? I know he’s referring to my mask and not my dress.

It’s not a coincidence that Broody was wearing a red mask on my first night—the same one Casanova has been endlessly trying to get me into. They’re both Rubies, but the pickings are probably so slim, they have to branch out just to get any pussy.

Well, that won’t be me.

“I know exactly what I’m doing.” I peek over my shoulder and flash him a defiant grin before turning back to Broody. “But more importantly, I know who and what I’m not doing.”

Casanova curls in close and rests his chin on my shoulder to whisper in my ear, “You’re playing a dangerous game, darling.”

It’s hard to ignore him when he’s breathing on my neck like that, forcing the eargasms to cloud my judgment. Fighting to hide the quake in my shoulders, I look back at him.

“Did I ask for your opinion?”

He chuckles, amused by the throwback of words he said to me during our last encounter. “Have it your way then. You two kids go have fun. I’ll be here prowling the watering hole.” He raises his glass before taking a sip.

For a second, I reminisce about the way Casanova’s bourbon tasted on my tongue when we kissed. The flavor encapsulated the bittersweet dynamic of our relationship.

Vodka mixed with vodka…just makes more vodka.

Still, I can’t get over how elegantly Broody’s hair flows around and in front of his face when he looks at me. His entire aura screams of authority, and it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world to let him choke me.

I have to consider he could be in some pact with Casanova, only humoring me tonight to enact punishment for me rejecting his friend.

“Go on, then. Find a free room and I’ll be there in a minute,” he orders. There’s no excitement or desire to his tone; it’s dry. “Gotta finish the drink you were generous enough to buy for me.”

My palms turn clammy, anxiety suddenly creeping up at the prospect of being alone with him. “Well, I could have another drink. We could— ”

“I heard you were good at following instructions.” He turns to Casanova and asks, “Are you sure this is the same girl?”

Okay then. They definitely talked about me.

I shoot Casanova a nasty look as I turn away, but they don’t give me the courtesy of gaining a safe distance before their laughter rings through the club. That’s fine. He should enjoy a laugh while he can, because there’s nothing he can do about me fucking his friend.

It’s early enough in the night that many of the rooms are still vacant, so I choose the first one available and leave the door cracked for him. This room isn’t far off from the White Room; it’s basically just a normal bedroom. The only noticeable difference is a cabinet similar to the one in the Green Room, but in place of the whips and paddles are a collection of collars, chains, and weird rubber masks.

The door clicks shut behind me, but before I can turn to see him, something loops over my head and tightens around my neck. He steps against my backside while I’m scrambling to breathe, frantically grabbing at the thing cutting off my air supply.

“It’s called a slip chain choker,” a familiar voice grumbles in my ear, but it’s not the one who should be here. “Nice, isn’t it? You’d better relax, or it’ll only get worse.”

I manage to weasel my fingers under the chain, giving myself half an inch of relief to ask, “What the fuck are you doing? You’re an Amethyst tonight.”

I’ll never get used to his derisive laughter without it giving me chills. “So are you,” he retorts. “Did you think we wouldn’t notice your little switcheroo in the bathroom? We’ve got eyes on you at all times. I thought you’d have realized that by now.”

“You’re crazy,” I spit, still fighting just to breathe.

“Crazy for you , Ruby. I told you, you’re playing a dangerous game. You thought you could pull one over on me, but that’ll never happen.” He gives the chain an abrupt tug, pinching my fingers between it and my aching throat. “Are you afraid, darling? Scared of being punished for lying to me? Worried that you’ll like what I do to you?”

Here I am, fucking crying again. I can’t stop it from happening; the tears fall without permission. I just wanted to try something different or someone new. I wanted to prove that even though I act powerless around him, I’m more than this.

I wanted to make him feel jealous, angry, and undesired.

Despite the fact that I would absolutely choose Broody in a heartbeat, I also wanted Casanova to give up on his mission to drag me to the Red Room. If I could just evoke that feral, possessive side of him, he might realize teasing me isn’t worth it anymore.

He could fuck me right here—right now—without any of the games, but I’m not telling him that. Let him dig his grave.

“Please, I just want to go.”

He wedges his other hand between my legs, sliding it under my skirt. Rubbing it along the fabric protecting my pussy, one finger curls around the barrier to slip inside me. I let out a shrill squeak that only encourages him to explore further.

“See, I don’t think you do,” he hums into my ear. “I think you were hoping he’d be different than me. You thought he might actually fuck you instead of playing with you.” His finger thrusts deeper on the word ‘fuck.’ “The problem is, he’s worse than me. You just don’t know it yet. Or maybe you do, and you were just trying to upset me. Is that it?”

“No.”

I’m a liar. A dirty, dirty liar. A dirty, dirty, horny, soaking wet liar.

He jerks the chain again, but this time it’s meant to lead me like a leashed fucking dog. “On the bed, go.”

“Please, take it off. I can’t breathe.” My tears fall harder and faster than before, and I have to sniffle just to keep the snot from dripping out of my nose .

“Oh, Ruby. Did I ask for your opinion? ” He asks sardonically, brushing a lock of hair off my forehead. “Yeah, I caught that. I said…get on the fucking bed.”

The chain is pulled so tightly now, my fingers are losing circulation. I keep my hold on it but step towards the bed, and he rewards my obedience by loosening the choker enough for me to spin around without decapitating myself.

They must have switched masks like Penelope and I did, because I’m staring up into an angry face of blue—only made more so by the dim LED lights emitting the same color from the ceiling.

“Like I said, a dangerous game. If you didn’t want to get choked, you shouldn’t have put on the mask,” he says, pulling the choker taut again.

I examine the chain in his hand and follow it up to the section around my neck. It’s just a long metal rope that’s threaded through a hoop on one end, making it look exactly like the leash he’s treating it as.

When I don’t say anything, he continues. “I admire your dedication. You’ll really put on any mask but a red one, won’t you? Odd, seeing as it’s obviously your color.” He looks me over once before poking his tongue out to wet his lips.

I think we’re both a little surprised when he instinctively reaches down to grab behind my knees, then hoists me up so my legs wrap around his hips. I have to put my arms around his neck to steady myself, but he slams my back against the wall to keep me in place. The rough impact forces a breath from my lungs, but he steals it when his tongue dives into my open mouth.

I don’t know what it is with this guy.

He’s hot and cold, then smoldering and icy as hell. He wants me but won’t have me, then refuses to let his friend have me, either. All of the back and forth, just to circle back around to wanting me again.

We’re on a merry-go-round of lust that neither of us can jump off of.

“You’ve got me so fucked up, girl. I could wring your neck right now.” He’s panting into my mouth, but it’s hard to decipher what he’s saying when his cock is pressed so tightly against my pussy.

If I could just take it out while he’s in the heat of the moment like this …

I reach down to unbutton his pants, trying to distract him enough that he’ll let me get them undone. “So just fu—” His hand clamps over my mouth before turning my head to gain access to my neck.

“Shut the fuck up. I tell you what to do, not the other way around. I’ll fuck you when you start listening to me.” If he’s truly angry, he forgot the proper tone somewhere between biting my throat and grinding into me. “You said you’d come. You said you’d put on the mask.”

My words are muffled by his hand, but I shoot off to the best of my ability and ramble about how I only agreed because he pulled a fucking knife on me. I’d have said anything to avoid him using it.

He doesn’t seem too pleased with my defiance.

Pulling back to hook his fingers over my bottom teeth, he unhinges my jaw before spitting directly into my mouth. When I whine at the assault, he locks it shut again by pressing his palm to the underside of my chin with his fingers pinching my cheeks—not unlike Skylar did at our parents’ house.

“Doesn’t your mouth get dry from all the talking back?” he whispers against my temple. “I will break you down, darling. We will break you, so you’re better off surrendering now.”

Never .

Tucking my chin down has the exact effect I want it to; he relinquishes his grip on my cheeks and drops his guard. I rear back and return the spit with enough ferocity that it covers his mask and drips down his face.

My ass meets the floor in less than a second.

Kneeling in front of me, he furiously pulls at the chain until my vision starts to blur. He’s so angry, he can barely stop his lips from trembling when he growls, “Go home, and don’t you dare come back here unless you’re in red.”

Then, he turns and walks right out the door.

This time I cry on purpose, purging all my hatred through the hot tears flowing from my eyes as I gasp for air. I’m a weeping pile of patheticism, thinking this must be the end .

The end of the mystery man and his sulky friend. The end of my masked adventures. The end of the thrill. The end of the passion.

They’re never going to want me without that red mask, and I don’t want to put it on. I don’t want to know how much nastier they can get. I don’t want to find out how else they could possibly hurt me…because make no mistake, they have something much worse than this planned.

I hate them.

I hate them for making me want them so badly it’s become a habit to lie here and think of all the things I’m missing—to think of what it might be like if they got their way.

Would they be nicer? Would they really make me feel better than he already has? Would I like it? Is there some secret to the Red Room I’m just too blind to see, and they’re trying to show me the light?

I won’t be sticking around to find out. I think I’ll be much safer for the time being if I return to being a Pearl. If I can’t find someone new, maybe I’ll get lucky enough to run into the man I met after Casanova broke me the first time.

One can only hope.