Page 3 of The Games We Play (Balance of Power #3)

There are two other women kneeling on this side of the glass, mirroring the woman’s position on the other side.

It’s like they want to join, and are egging him on even more.

They are both touching themselves, each other, and the glass barrier.

The mix of moans fill the room, not only between all of them, but with all the other people watching, too.

It’s a symphony of sounds that’s broadcasting through the open space like its very own theme song.

I step toward the back of the room, and now, I can only hear the couple on the other side of the window. The rooms are equipped with microphones connected to speakers into each viewing room. Anyone performing has an option to turn them on or off, and right now, all three rooms have them on.

When standing in one room, you really get the surround sound of just that room, but I have impeccable hearing, so I catch on to the light murmuring and echoes from the others.

As I step over to the next room, this one has just as many spectators.

This time, there are two couples behind the window.

This foursome is using the over-sized bed placed in the middle of the room, and I can see the faces of the two women.

The blonde one sits on the edge of the bed with a man’s face between her legs.

Her entire body is bouncing, synchronized with the pounding the woman next to her is getting.

The blonde cups her hands around her man’s cheeks, pulling him to her face. She kisses him deeply before bringing her lips to his ear, whispering so the microphones don’t catch her words.

So I hone in on what she is saying by reading her lips.

One of my most useful traits.

Are you ready to fuck him now, baby?

The man's eyes trail over to the man next to him. His eyes are hooded, jaw slacked, as the woman wraps her hand in between his legs and strokes his cock.

His forehead dips to her shoulder and he nods, almost ashamed of his silent confession.

Releasing his cock she interlaces his hand in hers, then reaches over, caressing the back of the other man still pumping in and out of the woman who is laying on the bed. Slowly, she trails their locked hands down to the globes of his ass as the muscles flex with each thrust.

In between thrusts, the man glances over at the couple and smiles, then grabs the man's forearm, pulling his body behind him.

The crowd is silent as they watch, everyone engrossed in them.

I spot one of my undercover guys in the crowd. He’s blending in well—maybe too well. He’s also entranced with the couple in the room, shifting back and forth on his feet, like he’s feeling a bit antsy.

I only agreed to help Ember with the opening.

We’re just extra security due to the nature of the club and all the protestors.

I know she intends to hire a permanent team for their special events, and I’m going to suggest to her that she thoroughly vets each individual team member.

They should be tested in a live environment, as well.

I know there will be nights with rowdy couples or jealous rages, and you need guys who can not only ignore their baser instincts, but proactively spot the start of that kind of behavior before it’s too late.

As I turn to head toward the next section, a delicate hand caresses my forearm.

I peer down at the bright, neon pink nail polish that is connected to the fingers that is now wrapped around my suit jacket.

I trail my eyes up, taking in the features of the woman next to me.

Her face is flushed behind her crooked mask as another woman explores her neckline with her tongue, gropes her breasts through her thin, skin tight dress.

“Want to join us?” she asks, all breathy and desperate.

“No.”

I step out of her grasp and make my way over to the third room.

It is most definitely for the more experienced couples—a full blown red room with bondage galore.

It has a smaller crowd. Not because there aren’t as many people with this kink, but it’s hard to make your way through when you have two other rooms to get preoccupied with.

It’s like the crowd in all three rooms have been frozen in time, with the exception of a few couples groping each other or some solo individuals secretly touching themselves.

It’s easy to spot movement out of the corner of my eye with how still everything is.

A body slinks off behind the thick, black curtain that separates the voyeur rooms from the private rooms. There is supposed to be an employee or security standing guard there, but there is no one to be seen.

Scanning the area, I catch the side of the mask marked with the red X, indicating an employee. They’ve made their way to the corner of the glass window, peering in to see the show.

Shaking my head, mentally noting to deal with that later, I make my way through the thick, black-out curtain and peer down the long hallway, following the figure. There are six doors that lead into separate private rooms.

A woman walks carefully down the hall. A pale glow casts over her body as she passes by the light that hangs over each door, creating a shadow on the ground. Her perfect, hourglass outline paints the floor as she tiptoes through the hallway.

My eyes trail over her white dress. It’s brighter than everything that surrounds her due to the contrast of the dark room and I’m easily drawn to the curves of her hips and the strong lines of her legs.

Members can reserve and pay to use the rooms, however, you need a keycard to enter. She might have one, but the way she snuck past the curtain and her current body language leads me to doubt that.

I hold my position and observe her for a moment. She appears to just be curious, but she shouldn't be back here.

Steadily and silently, I make my way toward her as she reaches the last door—room six. It’s at the end of the hall, and there is nowhere to go except past me to get out.

This is the only room not operational tonight, but for some reason, the door is cracked open.

She slows, as do I, placing her palm gently on the door, tilting her head to peek through the crack.

Her high cheekbones are apparent in her profile, and I can see that the contours of her jawline and nose are absolutely stunning, even though the mask covers half her face.

It’s silky and white to match her dress, but has feathers over the top that move as freely as she does.

She’s so absorbed in the moment, she doesn’t hear me creep up behind her. Her long, black hair falls forward over one of her shoulders as she leans toward the crack of the door, the other half lay loosely over her back.

The thin straps of her dress cross over her upper back and connect to the fabric of her silky, white dress. It’s loose and lays low on her back, fitting snugly around her perfectly, peach-shaped ass.

I don’t normally find myself interested in women sneaking around sex clubs, but there is definitely something about this one.

Pulling myself out of the distraction that is her gorgeous ass, I voice my presence—my tone deep and commanding. “What are you doing?”

She jumps with a squeal, turning around urgently and backing up against the wall.

“Oh my God, you scared me.” Her hand is splayed out over her chest. The silky material on this side of her dress is tight around her waist, but hangs loosely over her breasts, exposing the channel between them.

My eyes naturally follow the fabric of the upside down triangle that ends just above her belly button, then back up to her eyes.

My breath catches in my throat and my heartbeat stutters .

Perfect, almond-shaped eyes, the color of the richest dark chocolate, stare back at me through the holes in her mask. I’d recognize those eyes any place, any time, in the darkest of rooms.

“Mimi?” I whisper.