Page 3 of Stained In Sin (The Twisted Trilogy #1)

Our ride pulls up to the curb, and several girls squeal with excitement.

Astra’s face lights up like the sky on the Fourth of July.

She loves surprising others, even on her birthday.

We all line up to enter the stretch limousine.

“I hope you are ready for a night in the city!” Astra’s excitement is infectious, and even I can’t lie.

I’m a little excited to hav e the night to forget what transpired in my bedroom earlier.

* * *

Everyone is laughing and having a great time in the limousine, and I can’t stop staring off into space, wondering if Sergio has found anything back home.

His team is comprehensive and has never made a mistake.

The last time we had an attempted burglary, it took him about five minutes to surround and detain the burglar.

That was about six years ago. I remember staring out my bedroom window at 15 years, letting curiosity get the best of me.

I remember the weight in my stomach and the burning in my skin.

I think that was the first time I experienced an adrenaline rush.

The second time was when I wrecked my first car.

The limo comes to a halt, and everyone starts spilling out onto the sidewalk.

I go to slide out and freeze in my tracks when I realize where Astra has taken us.

I had been so lost in my head that I hadn’t paid much attention to where we were actually en route to.

Lo and behold, Club Muse is the destination Astra had in mind.

Perfect. I could just Uber home and tell her I’m not feeling well.

That thought swiftly leaves my brain as Astra sashays over to me.

“I hope you are ready to let loose tonight.” Her grin is as evil as the Joker’s. I hate when she makes me feel so included.

I want to run to the nearest bridge and jump off of it in this particular moment, but I don’t. Astra wants me to stick around for a few drinks, then that is what I shall do. I smile back at her.

“Just a couple of drinks, okay?”

Astra’s response is nothing more than a playful wink.

A man approaches us in front of the club. He has a handful of masks in his possession.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,” he says, flashing a sideways glance at Lucien, making me think they are friends or something. Noted.

“I am Silas Reed, owner of Club Muse. I am honored to have you all here tonight for our special event. Astra has taken the liberty of supplying everyone with a mask; in addition, you all get wristbands for the evening. These wristbands will grant you access to all private rooms on the second floor and entitle you to complimentary drinks from the bar. I hope you all enjoy the many offerings at Club Muse.”

He holds the door open as we all put on our masks and file into the club.

The club is dimly lit and features a few bars throughout its space.

It features black marble flooring, accented with immaculate chandeliers that provide a soft glow of lighting.

The music is loud enough that you can’t hear what conversations are happening around you, but just low enough that you can comfortably converse with someone nearby.

In the back of the club, a wall of glass windows and doors opens onto an expansive stone patio.

There are fire pits with seating, allowing you to take in the stunning mountain landscape. It truly is a beautiful club.

The last time I was here, I don’t remember it being so breathtaking. I could barely remember anything about this club, other than the masked stranger. The urge to run was always there, but the desire to know more got the best of me.

Silas mentioned private rooms. I didn’t know the club had private rooms. I bet the second floor is like a strip club or something.

I’m curious, per usual, so I make my way to the staircase that has a red velvet rope in front of it.

Are you sure you should be doing this? The voice in my head is trying to be a voice of reason.

I’ll simply go up and come right back down. After all, Silas did give us wristbands tonight. I will be quick. Up and right back down. I let out a slow breath as I freeze before the velvet rope.

I show the bouncer my wristband. He nods and opens the rope to allow me to pass by. Panic sets in as I slowly climb the staircase. My heartbeat overpowers the music with each thump. What am I doing right now?

As I reach the top of the grand staircase, I emerge into a dark lobby with deep brown leather sofas and accent chairs.

There aren’t many people up here, but the ones who are look intimidating.

The men are all in tailored suits, and the women are in elegant dresses that are revealing in all the right places.

I walk past them as if I know where I am going, but let’s be honest I don’t have a damn clue.

I skipped the bar, feeling like I had enough champagne at dinner, considering I waltzed right up the stairs, completely ignoring the voice in my head. I remind myself that checking out the club doesn’t mean I’ll do something stupid. I’m allowed to be adventurous sometimes.

Once I pass through the lobby, I see eight doors, each with a small golden plaque outside. I walk up to the first room and read the plaque. The plaque reads Voyeur Room.

Never heard of it. I open the door softly, not knowing what is on the other side.

When I open it enough to peer inside, I find that the room is much more spacious than I anticipated.

It features three rows of black leather theater seating, arranged in groups of two, outlining the room, and an elevated platform in the center.

On the stage is nothing more than a brown leather chaise lounge.

The seats are not lit at all, almost as if you couldn’t see anyone from the stage.

What the Hell is this? The room is empty, so I walk around to the back corner of the room.

I take a seat and open my phone to look up what ‘voyeur’ means.

At least this way, I can hide away from all of Astra’s other friends for a while.

I get halfway through typing when the door opens, and I hurry and lock my phone. I don’t want anyone to know I am in here. Mainly becaus e I don’t even know what this room is for. I break out into a sweat, hoping no one walks my way.

People start filtering in; two individuals make their way to the platform, and another five or so take seats on the opposite side of the room.

Letting out a sigh of relief, I try my best to remain silent and still.

My phone buzzes. I cover the screen to avoid attracting attention to myself, and I read the text.

I like to watch too, princess. —D

He’s in here. Or he knows I’m in here. I should sprint out of the room and find Astra, but I don’t.

One, that would draw so much attention to me that I don’t want.

Two, there is something in me that feels warm, and I can’t tell if it’s adrenaline or the champagne.

I lock my phone and look towards the stage.

The music in the private room is more intimate than the bass-thumping music playing through the club’s common areas. It is both enchanting and seductive.

The woman wears a black satin robe and has long, cascading platinum blonde hair. Her mask is made of lace and is delicate, matching her delicate features. The man is wearing a black tailored suit. He looks important. Powerful.

He removes his suit jacket and lays it across the back of the chaise lounge. He then speaks in a low, gravely tone, “Remove your robe.”

I can feel my face flush like a tidal wave crashing into the shore. I can’t stop thinking to myself that this is a fever dream. She is not going to remove her clothes on a stage. My palms go clammy, and I wipe them on the sides of my velvet dress subtly. Breathe Evelyn. Breathe.

The robe hits the floor, and I lose my train of thought.

I want to look away because this is so wrong, but I can’t.

The woman’s body is immaculate. She has a petite, slim figure with curves in all the right places .

The body we all wish we had. Her breasts are perky and a perfect C cup.

Her skin is perfectly tanned and not a blemish in sight.

She is wearing nothing but a black satin thong, accentuating her other curves.

The man pushes her hair back behind her shoulders and guides her chin up with his hand.

“Lie down.” His voice is firm and unforgiving.

It is almost cold, but something about it makes me squirm in my seat.

I’ve fantasized about things like this— dominating, dangerous men.

The ones that will make you bleed for them, but I don’t actually want that.

I want the kind of love my parents have.

Caring and loyal. I keep my eyes locked on the couple on the platform.

She lies down on the chaise lounge, and he kneels beside her. He guides his hand up the outside of her thigh and grips onto her satin thong. He brings his other hand up swiftly and rips them in half, leaving her body exposed and the undergarment in pieces.

He spreads her legs apart, and I can’t stop watching her chest rise and fall with every breath.

It’s almost like I can feel what she is feeling.

I feel a warming in my core as he glides his tongue up her inner thigh.

Her body is begging for more. You can see her squirm for more, but he doesn’t give it to her. He stands and commands her to sit up.

She does so willingly and obediently.

He removes his belt, and the clanking of metal bounces off the walls. He slowly unzips his expensive suit. You can see the bulge of his erection through his briefs. He guides it out and strokes long and deep. He lets out a grunt.

“You want to be my good girl, don’t you?”

“Yes, sir,” she says, nearly begging.

“Show everyone how good you are at sucking my cock.” A flush crawls up my skin, and it takes all of my focus to swallow the lump that has worked its way up to my throat.

My lips part, and I realize I am clenching my thighs together.

I’m not sure if it’s the champagne, but I feel myself pulsing with desire.

With no hesitation, she brings the head of his length to her mouth.

She bobs up and down with quickness. You can hear her soft moans, muffled by his erection.

His size is impressive, and she has no problem taking him deep into her throat.

He takes a fistful of her hair and pushes her more aggressively.

It’s rhythmic. Captivating. Her breasts sway with each move, and her back arches as if she is chasing the pleasure.

He removes her breathing steadily, “Good Girl.”

The phrase has me weak, and I am practically melting in my chair.

I notice the subtle movement from the seats across the room, but you can’t tell what they are doing.

I take a deep breath, realizing I have been holding it, and I press my palms into my thighs to keep myself from squirming in my chair.

I have never ached for pleasure as severely as I do in this moment.

I glance back at the stage and see the man entering her as she lies on the lounge chair.

Her back arches with every thrust. Her breasts glistening in the soft light.

Her moans grow louder. He pumps hard and fast; there is nothing gentle about how this man is taking her.

The sound of bodies slapping fill the air, and I watch them reach their climax, the man pulls out his cock and strokes it as erupts and leaves a warm pool on her skin.

You can see her body jerking from her orgasm, and the room falls silent.

The soft music we all heard before fills the room.

What the fuck just happened? I need to leave.

Now. I head for the door, keeping my head down, and step out into the hallway.

I step towards the other rooms, needing a minute to cool off and clear my head.

I can feel the wetness running down my legs.

It was a bad day to wear a dress, I guess.

I lean against a wall further down the hall on the other side of a decorative tree. What the Hell was that?

I have watched porn before, as we all have, but I am still a virgin.

The cl osest I have ever gotten to any sex was when I made out with my high school prom date, or when I occasionally masturbate.

Even then, I have always done external stimulation.

Never internal. I’m not like Astra. I don’t give in to the desire. I don’t let impulses dictate my life.

I’m fucking spiraling. That was undoubtedly the hottest thing I have ever seen.

You shouldn’t like that. I run my finger through my hair, trying to calm my mind.

I know I shouldn’t like that. I shouldn’t like the raw, twisted passion, but deep down, I crave it.

I know that’s the kind of desire that destroys you from the inside out. I can’t have that. Ever.

I stick around long enough for no one to know which room I was in. I want to know what the other rooms are for, but I’m afraid to risk my sanity to find out. I’m already driving myself mad. I make my way to the staircase and head down to the main bar.

I scan the room looking for Astra, but I feel a prickling sensation on the back of my neck, making the hairs on my body rise in unison as if I’m being watched. I turn around and look back at the stairs I just came from.

At the top of the grand staircase is a figure I could never forget, as it has been burned into my thoughts. It’s the masked man— and he’s looking right through me.