Page 42 of Sugar (Gilded #1)

Answer

MADDIE

A nd I thought the vibes at the party were off…

After Easton had gotten Tripp into his limo with strict instructions to go straight home, Vic had been waiting at the curb for us. I’d climbed into the back, anxiously awaiting Easton’s touch.

It never came.

Well, that wasn’t true. His hand had curled around my thigh, but that was it. He didn’t try to skim up my skirt or kiss me or any of the other things I’d guessed he would do.

That I’d needed him to do.

He hadn’t even spoken.

At first, I’d assumed he was tired. It’d been a long night for me, and I’d barely had to do anything. He’d been with Tripp the entire day. The crowds. The noise. The stress. Being surrounded by high-strung people all night.

I didn’t blame him for wanting some quiet time to decompress.

Only his body never relaxed. His muscles never loosened. Sitting next to me, he remained tense until he finally said, “You didn’t answer him.”

I looked at him. “Answer who?”

“Majors.”

“Oh.” I gave a dismissive flick of my wrist. “He’s not worth answering.”

“Is that why you stood there and let him shoot his shot with you? Because he’s not worth it?”

I bristled at the accusation in his tone. “I’m assuming you also heard me turn down his offer. Repeatedly .”

“You listened to him talk for a while between those polite refusals,” he shot back as he finally looked at me.

Even in the low light, I could see the agitation marring his usually blank expression.

“I specifically told you to wait at the table then came back to find you talking to him with his fucking hands on you. Did you like that, Madeline? Did you like what he had to say?”

“No, I just had to use?—”

“But you’re not bothered by it. You’ve been sitting here like there’s not a damn thing wrong.”

He wasn’t completely off base. In my head, there was nothing wrong. Chase wasn’t the first entitled jerk I’d dealt with in my life—or that week. I wasn’t letting his drunken antics ruin my night.

Apparently, I was the only one, though…

“Because he’s not worth getting upset about,” I repeated.

“You sure that’s it? Or is it that you’re next to me but thinking about him? Was your pretty little pussy wet that a big movie star wanted to take you home?”

My gaze darted to the front to make sure the divider was in fact closed. Not only because I didn’t want Vic to hear about my pussy, but also because I was fairly certain I was going to strangle Easton with a seatbelt, and I didn’t want a witness.

“You know it didn’t,” I said, trying to be the calm, rational one.

“Did he make you question why you were there with an old guy ?”

That patience I’d been clinging to snapped—as did my tone. “No, because you aren’t old. But you are making me question why I’m with you right now.” I leaned forward to knock on the partition.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Easton asked.

“Telling Vic to take me home.”

“No.”

“You can’t just say no.”

“The fuck I can’t.”

I hit the partition again.

“He’s not going to lower it. Or take you home. Not unless I say so.” He hauled me onto his lap with my back flush to his front. “Which I won’t.”

“Why the hell not? If you’re just going to hurl accusations at me then let me go?—”

“I’ll never let you go, Madeline. Fucking. Never .”

I hadn’t meant it in a permanent way. I was referring to right then. Physically.

But even if I could voice that distinction, I doubted it would matter.

He shoved his hands under my skirt, but I pressed my thighs tightly together, cutting off what he was going for.

“Spread them now,” he ordered. We both knew that he could’ve easily done it himself, but that wasn’t what he wanted.

He wanted me to willingly give him access.

He needed my obedience.

And I gave it to him.

“Good girl,” he groaned in my ear as he held my panties out of the way. He inched a finger into me. Just enough to tease. To make me undulate in his hold, desperate for more despite my anger.

Anger I shared with him. “You’re an asshole.”

“Yeah.” His thick finger surged inside me, curving to rub a spot that made my vision blur and my neck arch.

“But I’m yours. And I have been since the first time I saw you in that damn kitchen.

I knew I should’ve left.” He stretched his thumb to rub my clit.

Lightly. Tormentingly slow. “But I stayed to see more of the girl who was far too fucking young for me. The one who blushed so pretty every time she snuck peeks at me. When you went up to change for the pool, I knew I had to leave. There was only so much control I had, and I was barely hanging onto it by that point. But that didn’t stop me from lurking in the dark entryway like a damn stalker for one glimpse of you in that sexy gray bikini. ”

Holy hell, he’s telling the truth.

My chest squeezed around my pounding heart as I struggled to fill my lungs.

“Around the corner, Madeline.” Easton kept working me with that frustratingly tender touch as he rocked his hardness against my ass.

“I made it around the corner to a secluded spot before I freed my dick and stroked myself while I thought of everything I wanted to do to you. Everything I couldn’t allow myself to have.

I tried to fight this, but it was too late.

You were already in my head. Under my skin. In my damn veins.”

I asked the question that hovered in the back of my mind. “Did you set up our meeting at Coastal?”

“Yes,” he said without a trace of apology or shame. He nipped my ear lobe. “And it was a wonder I was able to hold out the three weeks I had.”

He left me teetering on that edge as he slid his finger free. Twisting me in his hold, he took my mouth in a rough, frantic kiss.

No.

Kiss was the wrong word. A weak word.

He took my mouth like he was trying to fuse us together. Trying to memorize my taste. Trying to brand me as his.

He ripped himself away, but just far enough to stare down at me. “I won’t fucking share you, Madeline. Not with that fucker or anyone else.”

“I don’t want you to.”

“You gave me you, and you’re out of your damn mind if you think I’m giving you back.” Contrary to the authoritativeness of his statement, he demanded, “Tell me you’re mine, Madeline.”

“I’m yours,” I said without hesitation. The beat of my racing heart seemed to echo in my needy clit. I was about to beg for him to touch it when he carefully slid me off him. Lust-drunk, my brain lagged a few steps behind when he suddenly opened the door to show we were parked

I’d been so wrapped up in him, I hadn’t even noticed the car had stopped. Just like I hadn’t noticed that we weren’t headed to his house.

We were at Gilded.

Unease mixed with the thrill of excitement—like I was racing up the tracks of a steep roller coaster and waiting for the inevitable drop. “Why are we here?”

Easton didn’t answer as he climbed out and offered his hand. His gaze was locked on where my dress had ridden up to expose my panties.

I wonder if he can see how soaked they are.

I adjusted the fabric back into place before accepting his hand and carefully climbing from the car. He kept a tight grip on me while he punched in the code to access the secret entrance that led to the spiral staircase.

Once we were in the lobby, a good-looking man looked at us from behind the podium. His smile was friendly, and if he thought we were overdressed, he gave no indication of it. “Welcome.”

Easton’s voice was just as strained as his mood when he gave his name to access the club.

At least the man didn’t recognize him automatically from his countless secret visits…

My stomach clenched at the thought.

Easton clearly isn’t the only one with a jealous streak.

The entrance unlocked, and Easton steered us into the packed room.

Even though I’d only ever been there on two other Fridays, both times had been much earlier in the night. There’d been a crowd, but it hadn’t been a big one. The auction had been busy, but it was also a more structured evening. At least, from what I’d seen before we’d left.

But right then?

It was a wholly different place.

Sex and nudity might not have been allowed in the main room, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t plenty on display. Leather. Lace. Costumes. Leashes and collars. Whips, crops, and other implements rested on tables or on laps.

People rested on—or stretched across—laps, too.

I thought Easton would steer us toward the busy bar, but he didn’t. Rounding the room, we went down a hallway.

Not the darkened one that was guarded by security and led to offices.

The other one.

The one that led to the real reason people visited Gilded.

The long hall almost looked like a hotel. It was warm and inviting, decorated in lovely colors with hung art. Except when I glanced at the framed pictures, they weren’t bland, generic images. They were artsy boudoir photos that were sensual and sexy.

The first couple doors were closed, but when we reached an open one, Easton paused us outside of it.

Again, like a hotel, a bed was in the middle of the room.

Unlike a typical one, though, there were bindings attached to the four posts.

More hung from the ceiling. An intricate shelving unit—that would make a lovely bookshelf—was instead stocked with bottles of lube and tools.

Ones for punishment and ones for pleasure.

The next open room was dark—and not just thanks to the mood lighting. A dark wooden X was against one wall, with cuffs on each end to secure a partner. Heavy chains hung from the center of the ceiling, connecting to a lattice of leather.

Either that’s the world’s most uncomfortable hammock or…

More instruments lined the wall like an erotic medieval dungeon.

The third room was almost a mix of the two. There was a bed, but also some leather padded equipment right out of a gymnastics studio.

Every so often, we passed a security guard—either stoically patrolling or stationed at a specific spot. There was also a man meticulously sanitizing an oddly plain room.

I hesitated as I craned my neck to see into the space. I scanned for a hidden fetish theme. Some hooks, ropes, toys. Something that explained why it belonged in the erotic playground.

Easton released my hand but only so he could move behind me. “Not every kink needs extra gear.” Wrapping an arm around me, he angled it down to cup my breast over my delicate dress. “Sometimes, all someone needs is what belongs to them.”

When the man exited the sparkling clean room, I thought Easton might drag me in. I wanted him to.

But he kept his intimate hold on me a second longer before releasing my breast. His arm stayed locked around me as he continued the tour.

The only other open doors showed a doctor’s exam room, an office, and mirrors.

A lot of mirrors.

Easton turned us before we reached the end, but not before I caught a quick glimpse of a gathered crowd down the adjacent hall.

“What’re they doing?” I asked.

“Watching people have sex.”

My instinct was to do a double take, but I doubted I wanted to see what was happening—in or outside of the room.

“Does the couple know they’re being watched?”

“It depends.” Before the bad taste of that answer settled, he explained.

“If the viewing window is set at reflective, they see a mirror and have no idea what’s on the other side.

If they set it as transparent, they’re fully aware of their audience.

” He glanced at me with a hint of a smile curving his mouth.

“And who said it’s only a couple inside? ”

I’m more naive than I like to think.

That must’ve been the only reason I asked the question I didn’t even want the answer to. “Have you ever been on either side of that?”

“No. It doesn’t appeal to me.” He backed me against the wall before putting his palms near my head to loom over me.

“And I’m not asking if you’re interested because the only person I want you looking at is me.

And if you think I’d ever in my fucking life let anyone see you, you’re out of your damn mind.

Now if your curiosity is appeased for at least a few minutes, I need a drink. ”

“Wait,” I said when he started to move.

His gaze snapped back to mine, and the edge that’d been there all car ride remained. The unease that had begun to dissipate returned.

Tenfold.

When he raised an expectant brow, I flung a hand toward the hall. “What was that other door at the end?”

“There’s a lower level for people who like to chase or be chased. Would you like to see?”

Running was already one of my least favorite activities, and nothing about it made me feel sexy, so I shook my head.

We backtracked into the main room. Rather than sticking to the outskirts, Easton stopped us at one of the small tables near the center.

Surrounded by depravity.

He tugged me closer and curved his hand around my throat to force my face up. A hint of heat cracked through the coldness in his off mood. “Say your safe word, and we’ll leave. Understood?”

“Yes,” I said instantly.

Using his hold, he sat me in one of the armchairs. “Wait here.”

I watched him walk to the bar before my focus skimmed over the crowd—being careful not to look too closely or for too long at any one spot.

I saw Cohen and Atlas near the hallway to the offices.

Both men clearly saw me, too, but they didn’t return my smile.

I started to raise my hand to wave at them, but they looked away without any sort of acknowledgment.

Uh oh, I wonder if something bad happened.

Easton returned to take the chair across from me. “Come here, Madeline.”

I stood and rounded the table before stopping short. With my attention elsewhere, I hadn’t noticed him bring over the lush cushion he’d positioned on the floor.

His face was carefully blank as he watched me.

Waiting for my answer.