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ADRIAN

S he was annoyed with me. More than that, she was attracted to me . Despite never seeing my face. Not knowing my true identity. And despite how easily she’d ignored me that day she brushed by without ever bothering to look back.

She thought I’d brought her here to fuck her.

And her nonexistent panties—I could tell she wasn’t wearing any the moment she’d crossed that ankle over that knee in defiance—were all twisted up over the fact I hadn’t made good on whatever fantasies she had playing around in that head of hers.

Not that I hadn’t thought about it myself.

That was the ultimate end game. To have her sprawled out in one of these rooms, a mess of sweat and cum as she cried out my name loud enough for the rest of the members to hear her.

Then again, she didn’t know my name. And it was better for both of us if we kept it that way.

Sure, this little game of cat and mouse was a nice distraction.

Better, less costly, and more gratifying than my sessions with Mistress Sadi—who refused to cause any long-term physical damage.

Believe me, I’d asked. But that’s all it was.

A distraction. A stress-reliever. Maybe a bit of an obsession.

Definitely an addiction . The kind that sneaked up on you before you even realized the needle was embedded in your arm.

But then you gave in to the thrill, the high of doing something you knew you shouldn’t be doing. And that’s what this was for Marisela and me. The lure of the forbidden.

I watched her finish her champagne, the pursing of her mouth and the constricting of her throat muscles as she swallowed, and pictured her swallowing something else.

More like choking on it. Her eyes watering and her mascara running.

But I wasn’t picky as long as she was on her knees looking up at me. Her cheeks puffed and her lips swollen.

But I also meant what I said. Being in this room was about more than sex.

It was about trust. The kind of trust I wanted to build between us before I returned her knife and let her use it on me again.

I had to give Miss Stab-Happy a stern lesson when it came to anatomy before she landed herself in an orange jumpsuit—or worse, in a padded cell at Briarwood.

That place wasn’t just a literal madhouse.

It was one lobotomy short of being overrun by a mob of patients whose deadened senses gave them the physicality of a bunch of angry gorillas, while their lack of a functioning frontal lobe gave them no reason not to use it against the guys in white coats who kept them captive.

The old sanitorium was also one citation short of having its doors closed for good.

Not that I gave a shit. I was no saint when it came to what I liked to do with a scalpel whenever my attending wasn’t watching.

There was no progress without experimentation.

No experimentation without curiosity. Which brought me right back to my little lamb and all the “experimenting” I wanted to do with her. And to her.

Marisela slammed her glass down on the table, and I took that as my cue to show her the real reason I brought her here.

I had about another fifteen minutes before the MDMA I’d slipped into her drink took effect, which meant it would hit her at the same time I planned to bring her first orgasm to the surface.

Was it a dick move to drug her? Probably.

The club would also have a field day if they found out.

It was against the rules and the waivers we all signed upon entry.

But it wasn’t like she was unwilling. She’d already admitted to wanting to fuck me.

Or should I say wanting me to fuck her? And that trust I was talking about?

It didn’t need to go both ways. Unless she was trusting me to know what was best for her, and what was best for her was the feel of my mouth on her pussy at the same time that first rush of adrenaline hit her system.

“Your five minutes are up, shadow man,” she spit in my direction.

I quirked an eyebrow at the odd nickname, even if she couldn’t see me do it, and crossed the room, shoving her back in her seat the moment she tried to stand. “And your fifteen just started.”

“Fiftee—”

Before the question could fully form in her mouth, I was tugging her ass to the edge of the cushion, dropping to my knees, and positioning myself between her thighs.

If Marisela was as observant as she thought she was, she would have noticed the alterations I’d made to this mask just for her.

The beak no longer pointed but rounded for her pleasure and the bottom arched and hollowed out for that same reason.

I had unrestricted access to her pussy in this tiny skirt she was wearing, and she had nothing separating her from the feel of my mouth. The lap of my tongue. The heat of my breath. The wet-on-wet sensation that would have her digging her heels into my back and tugging me forward.