Page 95

NINETY-FIVE

XERO

Melrose Manor’s entrance hall is just as grand as its exterior. A pair of ancient pendant lights hang down from a sixteen-foot-high ceiling, illuminating its mahogany-paneled walls. Above them are religious tapestries that have faded over the centuries, which are at odds with the dance music booming from the building’s interior.

Amethyst clings onto my arm, her entire body quivering with excitement. This is her first time at an event like this, and she doesn’t know what to expect. I hope it doesn’t disappoint. Our priority is finding Nocturne, who’s our most promising lead in locating Father.

We advance toward a group of masked and cloaked employees at the far end of the hall standing among the security guards. After we deposit Amethyst’s cloak, a dark-haired man wearing black leather pants and a collar checks our tickets’ QR codes.

“Who do I talk to about membership?” I ask him.

“It’s invite-only,” he replies, his voice gruff.

“Then who do I talk to about getting an invitation?”

“They talk to you.”

He turns his attention away from us and toward the couple on our left. The woman is topless under her cloak. The collar around her neck is so large that she tilts her head at an awkward angle to accommodate its height. I’m struggling enough with having this much of my little ghost on display. I would never allow her to be as exposed as that woman.

We arrived ninety minutes after the opening time, leaving the fifteen other operatives the opportunity to scope out the venue. According to Jynxson, it’s the most vanilla fetish club he’s ever visited. He’s asked around about Nocturne, who they say keeps to a members-only area in another part of the building.

The music grows louder as one of the employees escorts us down a long hallway and through a set of double doors to a darkened ballroom illuminated by red spotlights.

It’s a dance floor, broken up by multiple podiums housing BDSM furniture and the occasional pole. Beside me, Amethyst thrums with so much anticipation that I’m forced to crack a smile. At least one of us is impressed.

Peeling her away from watching a naked woman in a tiny cage being fingered by a small crowd of women and men, I head to the bar area. Six screens broadcast a couple fucking from different angles. The woman is a bleached blonde I recognize from the Ministry of Mayhem’s website, and the man wears a mask.

“What are you drinking?” a bartender yells over the music.

I point at the TV. “Is that live?”

He nods. “That’s from the screen room. It’s a space covered with cameras and monitors so you can see yourself from every angle.”

I hesitate, remembering that Nocturne was interested in branching out into producing videos of his inner circle. “Is that included in the entrance fee?”

“Members-only. What can I get you?”

“Two Armagnacs on the rocks.”

A man bumps into my side. I glance down, locking gazes with Tyler. He’s shirtless, wearing a leather collar and shorts. I lean into him and murmur, “Report.”

“I hooked up with a Domme who says she knows Nocturne. He’s selective about who they allow into their inner circle.”

He continues to explain that they don’t invite lone men to become members—they might upset the balance by hitting on single women. They’re only looking for couples of either switches or a dominant-submissive pair.

I cut the conversation short when the bartender returns with our drinks and escort my little ghost through the crowd. We pass a woman in a rubber catsuit flogging a sub tied to a whipping post, pole dancers performing in PVC, and a spanking bench where a man in leather chaps paddles his naked male companion.

Based on the intel sent from the others who scoped out this venue, everyone on the podium is either a member performing for the crowd or a professional. I spot my sister and Jynxson standing around a platform where two men are spit-roasting a woman on a four-poster bed.

I turn to Amethyst, whose cheeks are flushed. “Enjoying yourself?”

She gives me an eager nod.

“Do you want to play?”

Her eyes widen. “What do you mean?”

I flick my head toward one of the few unoccupied podiums. “We need to stand out if we want a chance to get close to Nocturne. How brave are you feeling tonight?”

Face dropping, her gaze flickers between me and two vacant podiums. One is another spanking bench, and the other is a throne. I keep my features even, not wanting to pressure my little ghost, but I’ve memorized our sex contract to the most minute detail.

Amethyst is excited by exhibitionism.

Some mornings, she would fantasize about me fucking her in the middle of the prison’s rec room, with the inmates watching us from behind bars. But getting off on an imaginary scenario in the comfort of her bedroom is no comparison to performing before a live audience.

“Just us?” she asks.

“No man will touch you unless he wants to lose a hand,” I growl.

She hesitates a fraction before inhaling a deep breath, her eyes hardening with determination. “Let’s do it. ”

I run a finger down her bare arm, making her shiver. “Are you sure, little ghost?”

She gives me an eager nod.

I grin, my arm wrapping around her waist as we weave our way through the crowd of dancers. Most of them are facing one of the occupied podiums, giving me time to lift Amethyst up to a platform featuring an iron throne upholstered in leather.

After joining her on the platform, I clip a leash to her silver collar and motion for her to kneel. She gets into position between my spread legs, gazing up at me through her lashes.

Amethyst breathes hard through parted lips, her pretty green eyes dilating. Her gaze drifts outward, where some of the crowd are already turning around to watch our scene.

“Eyes on me,” I say over the sound of the music.

Her gaze snaps back to meet mine.

“Good girl.” I pull on the leash, bringing her closer to my crotch.

Exhibitionism isn’t one of my kinks. As an assassin, being in the line of sight can mean failure or death, so I prefer to operate from the shadows. However, having this woman at my feet is the most potent aphrodisiac.

I could be surrounded by a thousand enemies, each with guns trained at my head, but I would still want to fuck her until she came around my cock.

Parting my legs, I lean back on the throne, letting my erection press against my fly. Her gaze drops down to it, and her tongue peeks out from her lips. The sight of her looking so aroused is so tantalizing that I have to stifle a groan.

“Show me how much you want it,” I say during a lull in the music.

She runs her hand up my thigh, making me shiver at her touch. As her fingers slide up and down my clothed shaft, one of the club attendants mounts the podium.

The red light bounces on his bald head and glistens on his sweat-coated skin, reminding me of the asshole who lured Amethyst and her friend to the hotel.

“Sir.” He smooths down his leather waistcoat. “This throne is reserved for members only. ”

I tilt my head up at him, my lips lifting in a smirk. He straightens, trying to assert his dominance, but it’s a pathetic attempt.

He isn’t Nocturne. There’s a look in a man’s eyes when he’s been to prison, forced to endure the lowest dregs of society. It’s a raw instinct that never truly fades, even years after being released from captivity. The bald man doesn’t have it. He’s never faced that primal desperation born from the will to survive.

“Is that so?” I ask, my voice so low he has to lean forward to listen.

When I flash him a grin, he must see something in my eyes because he lowers his gaze. It’s just as I thought. Any man who dons a costume on a Friday night to unleash his darker desires is no threat. He’s just a lamb dressed as a wolf.

Amethyst presses her lips up and down my shaft, her fingers groping at my fly. It takes every effort to keep my attention on this time-wasting idiot, but this is part of my plan.

“My lady and I want a bottle of Armagnac,” I say.

He hesitates, his throat tensing under my gaze. “Sir, table service isn’t?—”

“You interrupted my scene,” I snarl, my voice low. “Since there’s no sign on this seat saying it’s reserved for members, I can only conclude you’re here to serve me.”

His breath quickens. Even in this dim light and from my vantage point on the throne, I can see his blue eyes dilate. My brow arches. Reactions like this are a surefire sign he has submissive tendencies.

I lean back on the throne, staring so intently at the man that he’s forced to lower his gaze. He shifts on his feet, his fingers toying at the neckline of his leather waistcoat.

“Be a good boy and get me that drink,” I say.

He lowers his gaze and swallows. “Yes, sir.”

“And while you’re there, book us some time in the screen room.”

His eyes widen at my request, and his pale cheeks turn pink. With a nod, he scrambles off the podium. By now, a crowd has formed around our platform, and Amethyst gazes out at them, her cheeks equally as flushed as the club attendant’s.

“Everyone’s watching us,” she says, her eyes dancing .

My smirk grows. “Want to watch them see you come?”

“How?”

“Take out my cock,” I growl, leaning back to give her room.

Her delicate fingers fumble with my belt and zipper, and she reaches into my fly and eases out my erection. I groan, wishing we were alone so I could bend her over the throne and pound into her tight, wet heat until she screams my name loud enough to pull down the ceiling.

But we're not. We’re on display, observed by dozens of eyes, if not multiple cameras installed around the club. I want Amethyst to get off from being watched, but without sharing any part of her with these unworthy voyeurs.

She leans forward, running the flat of her tongue up my Jacob’s ladder. Pleasure surges through my veins, and I can’t help but shudder.

My fingers knot through her hair as she swirls her tongue around my crown and laps at the patch of skin beneath my Prince Albert.

I could come just from the sight and feel of my little ghost, but tonight is all about getting Nocturne’s attention. And pleasing Amethyst. She’s worked so hard on developing her escape and combat skills that she deserves a special reward.

“Show them how much you can take,” I growl.

Nodding, she swallows my shaft deeper until my crown hits the back of her throat. Her eyes water, but they remain trained on mine.

“Good girl.”

The crowd closes in, trying to see more, but I keep my body angled to protect her privacy. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a woman trying to mount the platform, but someone yanks her back into the crowd. Sending a silent word of thanks to the operatives watching our back, my focus drifts back to Amethyst.

I allow her to continue for a few more strokes, her head bobbing as I clench my jaw, fighting back the urge to release. It’s not just about her mouth—it’s her submission. Her wanton desire to take my cock in front of all these hungry eyes.

She hums, the sound vibrating along my shaft and through my core, taking me to a dangerous edge .

“Enough.” I grip her hair, pulling her off my cock. “Now, get on my lap.”

Releasing me with a soft pop, she pulls back and rises. I turn her around and slip my fingers between her thighs and into her lace panties, feeling her wet little pussy.

“You’re soaked,” I growl, bringing my glistening fingers to her line of sight. “Does the thought of you sucking my cock in front of the whole nightclub get you wet?”

She turns her head toward me, breathing hard and fast through her parted lips. “Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, sir.”

I settle her on my lap, adjusting her position so her back is flush against my chest, and she's facing the crowd. Angling her hips, I push her panties aside again, and guide my cock into her entrance.

“Show those thirsty bastards that you’re my good girl,” I growl into her ear. “Give them a glimpse of what they can’t have.

She eases down, her tight heat contracting around my shaft. The crowd moves closer, trying to get a better look, but I cup her pussy around the front, my finger rubbing her clit.

The club attendant from earlier pushes his way to the front with a bottle and two glasses on a tray. Ignoring him, I focus my attention on the little goddess in my lap.

“Faster,” I say, and she obeys, riding my cock in time to the music.

I take her hips, moving her up and down, while keeping my features an impenetrable mask. It’s nearly impossible to hold a poker face with the woman I love, but my senses are on red alert. Any associate of Father has to be dangerous, and I won’t take any chances with Nocturne or his people.

She rolls her hips, pumping and squeezing my shaft, her head moving from side to side. My little exhibitionist gets off on having all those eyes on her as she takes her pleasure. The crowd moves in, enraptured by her raw passion, but I’m scanning their faces for signs of serious players.

Amethyst’s muscles tighten, indicating that she’s close. So am I, but I don’t want to come. Not yet. Quickening my strokes around her clit, I push her toward the edge.

“That’s my good girl,” I say. “My eager little slut.”

She moans.

“Let the club hear how prettily you come for me.”

Amethyst throws her head back and climaxes, her hips bucking, her body trembling, her pussy spasming around my cock. She cries out, the sound of her orgasm mingling with the music.

The crowd bursts into applause, making her muscles flutter.

My gaze drops down to the attendant, who places a piece of paper on our tray of drinks.

She collapses backward into my chest, and I cradle her in my arms. “Well done, little ghost,” I murmur into her ear. “It looks like your performance might get us invited to become members of this club.”