Page 249 of Theirs to Desire (Club M: Boxed Set)

ROB

I t’s Mel.

From the moment she first spoke to me, something about her seemed familiar. And when she fiddled with her fingers, I became certain. This sexy blonde woman who insulted my Scotch, fluttered her eyelashes at West and me, and then asked us to show her around Club M—is the same woman I work with.

Well, well, well. This is a side of Amelia Ortega I haven’t seen before, and I’m fascinated. Intrigued.

And so fucking turned on.

My brain feels like it’s stuck in quicksand, and I flounder to make sense of what I’m seeing. Stop thinking with your dick, Yarrow, I tell myself sternly. Try to figure out what’s going on here.

Okay, what do I know? The mask she’s wearing hides most of Mel’s face, but her hair is a different color, as are her eyes. She introduced herself as Cat.

And she’s in disguise. She doesn’t want us to know who she is.

Speaking of which, does she know who we are?

She has to. I told her my name was Rob. I told her West and I would make her fantasies come true. Plus, Mel knows we attend Xavier’s benefit every year. She never expressed any interest in attending before and was always rather amused that they held the fundraiser in a sex club.

So she’s here. She knows who we are. She doesn’t want us to recognize her.

The most important thing, though? She came on to us. Both of us.

Maybe she feels like she can't approach us openly. Maybe it’s because we work together. Maybe it’s because she wants us both.

I don’t know. I don’t care.

I like Mel; I trust Mel. I haven’t let myself think about her in a sexual manner because she’s an employee of Fontaine she wants both of us.

I take a sip of the Aberlour. Mel is walking back from the washroom. I release the breath I didn’t realize I was holding. I guess, on some level, I’d been dreading that she wouldn’t return. “Yes,” I reply to West. “I’m more than okay.”

His gaze is on her too. “We’re going to do this then?”

It appears we are.

Mel comes up to us. She looks nervous. West puts his hand on her arm. “If you want to change your mind,” he says softly. “That’s always your prerogative.”

She squares her shoulders. Once again, her gaze travels from West to me, to West again. Then her lips lift in a small smile. “I’m really looking forward to this tour.”

We do the club tour. It’s all a little new to me too. I’ve been to the Club M on various open nights, but I’ve never picked up a woman at the club, and I’ve never played here. I’ve always come with a date. We’d have a drink or two, get turned on, and go somewhere else to have sex.

Not that I’ve done that in a while either. It’s been a long stretch of celibacy. I haven’t slept with a woman since. . .

Fuck me. Not since Paris.

It’s a good thing my mask conceals my expression, because I’m in shock, and I’m sure it shows on my face. Has it really been that long, and I haven’t even noticed?

The rooms at Club M vary from opulence to bare-bones accommodations.

Some are set up like dungeons, others like palaces.

There are even hospital examination rooms, for those into that.

There’s plenty of bondage equipment: Saint Andrew’s Crosses, Y-frames, spanking benches, tables with convenient eyebolt screws to attach restraints, and sex swings. It’s all here.

“Notice the cameras?” I point them out to Mel. “It’s a Club M safety feature. Security staff monitor everything that happens here.”

I don’t know how I’m expecting her to react to that. I guess I expect her to freak out. But Mel isn’t running away scared. She looks. . . interested.

Fuck me, I’m so turned on I can’t breathe. First, a threesome. Now, maybe bondage? Amelia Ortega is full of surprises.

We enter a space that’s rather fancifully called the Romanov Room. I step in and look around. This is a good space. It’s not too hardcore. There’s a Saint Andrew’s Cross, but there’s also a bed, and of course, everything is spotlessly clean.

I put my hand on Mel’s shoulder. Her dress is strapless, and her shoulder is bare.

Her skin is soft, so very soft. Her pulse hammers in her neck, and I graze my thumb over it.

She’s nervous, and strangely, I’m nervous too.

I don’t want to fuck this up. Whatever Mel’s looking for this evening, I want to give it to her.

“We could go back to the dance floor,” I whisper. My thumb caresses her skin. I can’t seem to stop touching her. “Or we could stay here. I know what I want, and I’m pretty sure I know what West wants. But what matters here is you. It’s your call.”

Under my fingertips, her pulse is beating like a caged bird. But when she speaks, her voice doesn’t tremble. It’s flirtatious, even.

She tilts her head up and flashes us a playful smile. “I guess the two of you are mine tonight.”

West says something to the attendant outside and shuts the door. Perfect silence falls over the room. I can’t hear anything. Not the crowd, not the music. Nothing but the sound of our breathing.

West has been silent during the tour. He speaks up for the first time. “We are, kitty cat.” His smile turns wolfish. “And tonight, you are all ours.”