Page 44 of Gamble (Black Light #38)
REAGAN
R eagan’s heart pounded as she stood beside Elijah at the velvet curtain, processing everything she’d witnessed since arriving at Black Light.
Gary had greeted him with genuine warmth and respect.
Michael had called him “bossman” with obvious affection.
Suzie’s enthusiastic welcome that spoke of real friendship, not just professional courtesy.
This wasn’t just Elijah’s workplace—this was his kingdom. And everyone here recognized him as their leader.
More importantly, she could see the transformation happening in Elijah himself.
The careful, recovering patient she’d been caring for over the past weeks was melting away, replaced by the confident, commanding man she’d met in Vegas.
His posture was straighter, his movements more assured, his voice carrying that natural authority that made people listen when he spoke.
He was in his element. This was who he really was. Not the broken man who’d needed help to get to the bathroom, but a dominant force who commanded respect and wielded power with gentle strength.
And yet even as she made the comparison of the two different versions of the man, a calmness settled over Reagan as she realized that she actually loved both versions of the man.
As painful as his recovery might have been for Elijah, his injury had forced them to slow things down between them.
To take the time to truly get to know each other at the most basic level.
The hours spent talking, watching movies, or even quietly reading together had shown Reagan that she truly loved being around every version of the man she’d met in Vegas.
“You ready for this?” Elijah asked, his hand poised to pull aside the heavy fabric.
Reagan took a deep breath, her nerves dancing with excitement rather than fear. “I’m ready.”
The wall of sound that hit them as Elijah drew back the curtain was overwhelming—pounding music mixed with moans of pleasure and pain, the crack of leather on skin, the murmur of dozens of conversations.
The space beyond was larger than she’d remembered from her brief glimpse weeks before, with multiple levels connected by stairs and walkways, all bathed in atmospheric lighting that created pockets of intimacy within the larger space.
Elijah’s arm came around her waist immediately, possessive and protective, and Reagan felt something deep inside her settle at his touch. He was claiming her, marking her as his, and the primal satisfaction she felt at being so thoroughly possessed surprised her.
“Stay close,” he murmured against her ear, and she nodded, letting him guide her into the crowd.
They moved slowly through the throng of people, some dressed in elaborate costumes, others in various stages of undress, all engaged in the intricate dance of power exchange that defined this world.
Members nodded respectfully to Elijah as they passed, some stopping to shake his hand or express their pleasure at seeing him back.
“Boss!” A young man in a black t-shirt with the Black Light logo approached them with a wide grin. “We didn’t expect to see you until Wednesday.”
“Just showing my lady around,” Elijah replied, his hand tightening possessively on Reagan’s waist. “Reagan, this is Marcus, one of our dungeon monitors. Marcus, meet Reagan.”
“The famous Reagan!” Marcus said with obvious delight. “Tyler’s been wondering when you’d bring her by. Welcome to Black Light.”
“Thank you,” Reagan said, struck by the genuine warmth in his greeting. “Everyone’s been so welcoming.”
“That’s because we’re all invested in the boss’s happiness,” Marcus replied with a knowing grin. “And it’s obvious you make him very happy.”
Glancing sideways at the grinning Elijah, she had to agree that he did look happy.
As they moved deeper into the club, Elijah paused to let her observe various scenes.
Near a raised platform, a woman in elaborate latex was being worked over with a heavy wooden paddle by her dominant partner, the sound of impact echoing through the space.
The artistry of it, the careful attention to the submissive’s responses, fascinated Reagan more than it shocked her.
A few feet away, they stopped to watch a beautiful Shibari scene—intricate rope work that turned a woman’s body into living art while her partner manipulated the bonds to create pleasure and sensation.
She’d read about the trust required, the intimate communication between the participants.
Witnessing it in person was breathtaking.
“What do you think?” Elijah asked softly, his breath warm against her ear.
“It’s beautiful,” Reagan replied honestly. “I never realized how much artistry was involved.”
“The best dominants are artists,” he agreed. “They use their submissive’s body as a canvas, their responses as paint.”
The poetry in his words sent heat spiraling through her core. She was beginning to understand that this wasn’t just about sex or pain—it was about connection, trust, and the exquisite vulnerability of surrender and trust.
She was thrilled that Elijah let them linger at that scene until they were able to witness the dominant use his mouth on his sub’s restrained and exposed pussy.
Her screams of ecstasy as she succumbed to her Dom’s tongue went straight to Reagan’s core.
It might be the hottest scene she’d ever seen, and she couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like to have the dungeon master himself replicate that same scene with her.
Am I ready to be on display like this?
Maybe one day, but she sure as hell wasn’t ready tonight.
Elijah was already guiding her up a few steps.
Once on the new level, Reagan found herself in a dimly lit hallway bathed in neon and black light.
The atmosphere was distinctly different here than on the open floor.
It was more intimate and secretive, reminiscent of Amsterdam’s famous red-light district.
Behind the wall of glass they’d stopped in front of, a beautiful naked woman performed for a small audience. Her movements were graceful and sensual; her nudity presented as art rather than exploitation. The voyeurs watching her were respectful, appreciative of her sensuous performance.
Moving deeper into the dark hallway they passed several glory holes where anonymous encounters were taking place—a man standing close to the wall had his cock pressed through an opening and was receiving pleasure from an unseen partner on the other side of a wall.
Next to h him, a submissive woman was on her knees servicing a stranger’s cock through another opening.
The raw sexuality of it should have shocked Reagan, but instead she found herself fascinated by the pure, uncomplicated nature of the sex.
“How are you feeling?” Elijah asked, his voice low and intimate despite the public setting. “What do you think about what you’re seeing?”
Reagan considered the question carefully. “I’m surprised by how safe it all feels. Everyone seems to be looking out for each other.”
“That’s the most important thing,” Elijah confirmed. “Safe, sane, and consensual. Everything else is just details.”
As they continued down the hallway, they passed a large open door with a large sign reading “COSTUMES.” Members were lined up to see a colorful looking guy working inside.
As they passed the line, several of the waiting members spotted Elijah and called out enthusiastic welcomes, clearly delighted to see him back.
At the deadend, they turned right into another long corridor, and Reagan realized this was where the private rooms Nalani had talked about were located.
She hadn’t made it back this far the first time she was here, but she remembered hoping that if she were ever to make it back to Black Light that Elijah would help her get used to being at the club more privately back here before asking her to play on the main floor.
Now that her return day had come, she prayed he would be leading her into a private room, if not to introduce her to a BDSM scene, then to at least fuck her long and hard because she could feel the wetness from between her legs soaking the gusset of her skimpy panties.
Damn, I don’t remember ever being this horny.
She tried to focus on the tour in an effort to relieve the building need in her pussy.
Four huge picture windows lined the left wall, each looking into a unique space, allowing voyeurs in the hallway to watch the scenes playing out inside.
One of the windows was covered by blinds, offering privacy to the occupants, while the other rooms were open for display.
“There he is!” A voice called out, and Reagan tore her gaze away from the in-progess punishment scene to instead see a handsome younger man approaching with a huge grin. “Boss! We weren’t expecting you until?—”
“I know, I know,” Elijah interrupted with a laugh. “Everyone keeps saying that.”
The employee’s attention shifted to Reagan, and before she could even say hello, he’d swept her up in a bear hug, pulling her out of Elijah’s grip and spinning her around enthusiastically as she squeaked with surprise.
“And you must be the famous Reagan!” the younger man said. “I’m Tyler, Elijah’s second-in-command and all-around pain in his ass.”
Behind her, Reagan felt hands gripping her hips, trying to pull her out of the in-progress hug.
“Tyler,” Elijah’s voice carried a warning note, but when she looked over her shoulder at Elijah he was smiling. “Put my woman down before you hurt her.”
“Your woman?” Tyler grinned as he finally set Reagan back on her feet. “Oh, we’re making declarations now, are we?”
“Damn right we are,” Elijah replied without hesitation, pulling Reagan back against his chest, his arms wrapping around her possessively.
The casual way he claimed her, the certainty in his voice—it made Reagan’s heart flutter with something that felt suspiciously like love. Or maybe lust. It was hard to think straight when being seeped in sex.