Page 20

TWENTY

KEIRA

Bad Things - Summer Kennedy

T he bass bumps through the speakers hidden in the corners of the bathroom. Stacey loses focus, hissing as the curling iron slips and burns her scalp. I laugh at her misfortune and sip on the weak vodka soda Harkin brought me when we started getting ready for the club.

I swing my legs, bouncing them off the vanity cabinets, while Stacey finishes up her hair. I’ve been done for a half hour, going for a sleek high pony and minimal makeup with sharp eyeliner. It looks flawless, with the black pleated skirt and sheer long sleeve with my leather harness fastened over. Metal chains hang from the leather and lead up to a collar Harkin tightened and locked, perfect for tonight.

“Are you sure this is a good idea with everything going on?” Stacey asks, between applying the bubblegum sheen to her top and bottom lips.

“I don’t think we’re likely to run into my father at the club.” I recoil in disgust at the thought, knowing damn well what I’m likely getting into tonight. “Plus, we need this. I need this. A night to give up all my worries about what’s going on and just let go.”

Knuckles rap quickly against the doorjamb of the bathroom. “You ladies ready?” Harkin asks, leaning against the door. His eyes devour me, head to toe, but they darken just a little extra when he catches sight of the collar again.

I hop down, the soles of my boots thudding at the contact. “I am,” I confirm, walking in his direction. He holds his hand out to me, and I expect him to pull me in for a kiss. Instead, I’m twirled around, my skirt lifting from the motion, exposing the very thin G-string, leaving little to the imagination.

His large hand comes out of nowhere, meeting my skin with a harsh slap against my ass. “Mm, there will be no bending over for you tonight, sweetness. Let’s keep tonight death-free if we can, huh?” he whispers.

Stacey passes, eyeing us before yelling over her shoulder, “Let’s go, lovebirds.”

She’s already had a few drinks, pulling a flask from her makeup bag when we set out to get ready. When I eyed her suspiciously, she just mumbled something about “him being so controlling.” I couldn’t help but laugh at the irony as I sipped the weakest drink to have ever been served.

“You heard her. Let’s go.” His hand rests against the back of my neck. One thick finger hooked into the leather there. “I can’t wait to show you off.”

Heady desire in his tone sends shivers down my spine and a zing of excitement to my core. It makes walking to the SUV extremely difficult as I try to quell the growing throb with each step.

The drive was quick; we could have walked, but Harkin and James shot down the idea as soon as it left my lips. “Not worth the risk” and “We’ll be back late” were their reasons, and it wasn’t worth the fight. Plus, Stacey’s shoes didn’t exactly scream walk five blocks.

It’s a members-only night, and flashbacks of the last time Harkin and I were here flicker through my mind. The way that night ended was a catalyst within our relationship. The tunneled entrance is pitch black, the only guidance coming from the neon red lighting that lines everything in the club just ahead.

My fingers lace with Stacey’s as the guys lead in front of us. The music switches, and another sultry song I don’t know with a dirty bass fills the air. It grips my body and makes me sway my hips a little more with every step we take.

Making it to the end of the hall is like falling out the bottom of the rabbit hole into a wonderland. Everything is not as it seems; the red hue distorts every person standing around in the midst of conversations. Moans of pleasure and screams of pain ricochet off the rafters above, adding to the ambiance and expectations of the place.

We’re led to one of the standing round tables downstairs. James leans into Stacey, whispering something in her ear before dropping a possessive kiss on her lips. My eyes bug out as I take them in. That’s it. I can’t stand not knowing what the hell is going on between them.

Harkin’s fingers grip my chin, relocating my gaze to his. His eyebrows are raised, a knowing smile on his lips as I settle my reaction, and he laughs. “Drinks?”

“Yes, please.”

He leaves me with my own searing kiss, and the moment his back is turned, I whip around to face my best friend.

“Okay, that’s it. Out with it,” I demand, leaning in closer to her so we can talk without having to shout over the music.

“Out with what?” she says, playing the dumb blonde. I know she’s not.

“Stace.”

“Keira,” she mocks back in the same tone.

“You and James. What’s going on there?”

Closing her eyes, she draws a deep breath in before opening them with an annoyed sigh. She can sigh all she wants; I’m still waiting with drawn-up eyebrows for her to break the unnecessary tension and come clean.

“We’re exploring some things,” she states vaguely.

I tilt my head and roll my hand, instructing her to expand.

Her eyes scan the floor, searching the direction James took off in before she leans in even closer to talk right into my ear. “So, you remember that guy that used to bounce here, Robbie?”

I nod but don’t respond. She can feel it and continues. “I kept seeing him after you left, except things took a turn after a few weeks. Where he used to be sweet and giving, he slowly became more controlling and rougher. Not in a good way.” A nervous laugh flutters between us. “One night, we met up, had dinner, and then took things to the bedroom. It—it got out of control.”

Pulling back, I stare into her eyes and she doesn’t have to say it. Anger floods my system, my nostrils flare, and I’m about to step away to go hunt him down when her fingers wrap tightly around my wrist, pulling me back in so she can continue.

“I went looking for you. I knew you weren’t there. But I don’t know, in my fucked-up haze, I still felt like maybe you were lying to me, and you’d be at the apartment anyways. But you weren’t there, James was. He flung the door open, took one look at me in all my glorious mess, and dragged me inside. I won’t bore you with all the details, but he took care of me that night and went after Robbie after he finally got his name from me.”

That brings a smile to my lips. I’ve seen James in action. I can only imagine the look on Robbie’s face when he opened the door to find James instead of Stacey.

“The fucked-up thing is, when he got there, Robbie was already fucking some other chick. We’d agreed to be monogamous while seeing each other. It seems I was a bigger idiot than I’d thought when it came to him.”

“Oh, fuck no. You’re not an idiot. He’s the one that disrespected you and your relationship. He’s the one who put on a front and faked what it means to be a part of the community. That’s not on you, babe. That’s all him. He’s not here anymore, is he?”

“Oh god, no. James made sure I reported it to the club. They don’t take kindly to men like him in their midst, especially when they want to maintain a certain reputation. And extra, especially when you have connections.”

Two drinks slide our way across the table. Harkin and James make it back at the same time we're done talking. I pick up my drink and take a tentative sip. When the flavors hit my tongue, I swing annoyed eyes in his direction.

“Not tonight. Drink up, then we’ll head upstairs.”

The club soda with lime bubbles up my nose as I drown my disappointment in not taking Stacey up on her earlier offer. He’s right, though. It's better to have a clear head for what tonight will bring.

James leads Stacey away to the left at the top of the stairs. Don’t get me wrong, I love my best friend, but there are some limits even I have. Like watching her get railed by Harkin’s best friend and my ex-bodyguard. There’s no judgment here. I can appreciate what he brings to her table, but it doesn’t mean I want to watch it happen.

Harkin’s fingers tighten against my waist, drawing me out of my head. He’s stopped in front of a couple amid a Shibari demonstration. A small crowd circles them, watching the way they work together. It’s beautiful. There’s a calmness in the air around them, even though the music's bass is still loud enough to make it feel like we're in the middle of any dance club. He has the ropes wrapped around both her arms and legs, the knots in each adding to the complexity of the image.

“What do you think?” Harkin whispers in my ear.

I lean in closer to whisper even softer, not wanting to interrupt. “It looks like a lot of training and skill.”

“They’re one of the club’s instructing couples. I know they offer private lessons if you’re ever interested.”

I watch a little longer, mesmerized, as he finishes the last pass of the rope through a small loop. I envision myself in her position. What it would feel like to be that restrained. The concept is nothing new to us, but getting out of something like that takes a lot more time and effort than releasing a few cuffs unless you’re using safety scissors. I like to think I could handle it, but I worry something might spark inside and trigger a panic attack. I guess we won’t know unless we try.

“Yeah, maybe,” I answer sheepishly, knowing Harkin’s picked up on it when he leads me further down the walkway.

“I had something else in mind for us tonight anyways,” he says, pulling back the curtain to reveal the small space.

It’s not like the last time we were here. There isn’t a booth or the throne-like chair Harkin had me bent over, taking his punishment in front of a captive audience. My pussy throbs at the memory, and I shift my thighs back and forth, trying to relieve a bit of the building tension.

This small room can’t be bigger than ten by ten, though it looks like it goes on forever with its floor-to-ceiling mirrors bouncing reflections off each other. It has a similar effect to being in a house of mirrors without the horror and dread. Instead, excited nerves simmer low in my belly at the sight of the leather swing dangling from the ceiling in the middle of the space.

“Open or closed?” Harkin asks, hand wrapped around the black curtain separating us from the rest of the club.

I don’t have to think about it; the words slip from my lips naturally, as if they’re for a well-rehearsed play. “Whatever pleases you, Sir.”

He waits a beat, looking me over with an intent gaze. He seems to be waiting for me to change my mind, but the truth is, I don’t have a problem with people watching me. We both know that’s his issue. I’m surprised when he steps away, leaving the curtain peeled back, exposing the small catwalk and the rest of the club below.

“Skirt off, little one. Nice and slow,” he instructs, leaning against one of the mirrored walls.

If it’s a show he wants, it’s a show he’ll get. My fingers trace the smooth skin of my thighs before they find the edge of my skirt. I let the pressure pull up the material, exposing the thin coverage across my pussy. It’s black and sheer, a matching set with the shirt under my harness.

The skirt falls back into place, hiding everything again. A growl pulls my attention from my teasing, but I don’t look up to meet his eyes. My cheek tightens as the slight quirk of my lips pulls into a pleased grin. His building impatience only spurs me on to draw this out further.

Reaching around, the zipper at my back sputters, tooth by tooth, as my fingers glide it down. Now wide open, the skirt falls to my ankles, pooling around my thick boots. I should feel exposed, my tiny thong leaving nothing to the imagination, but there’s still no one else around but us, and I love it.

I wait for my next instruction, but his words don’t come. Instead, I hear his footfalls coming quickly, and then a firm grip is around my throat, his teeth bared.

“You dirty little tease,” he hisses. “I’m going to ruin your tight cunt. Have you dripping down my cock, until I’m soaked and slippery. Then, I can take your ass without any lube.”

I draw in a sharp breath. I’m down for ass play, but he’s always prepped me. I have no doubt I’ll be gushing for him by the time we're done, but the thought of no lube has me pausing.

“Yellow.”

“Mm, that’s my good girl.” He smiles, dropping a kiss on my nose.