“So me and my friends can’t share you? I promise we’d go gentle.” He’s being serious.
If I’d known he wanted to share me I wouldn’t have taken off my mask.
I glance over at his two friends at the bar who are just as hot as he is.
I’m here to forget Dante. I’m sure the three of them taking me would be a massive step in that direction. I don’t know about going that wild though. Three guys… fuck, am I really that desperate?
“I’m sorry, no,” I say and it feels like the right answer.
“What about just me?”
“No,” comes a firm voice I’d recognize anywhere, just not here. I would never imagine that voice here at the club.
But there he is. He’s paces away from us and he’s staring Brad down.
“Who are you?” Brad asks, while I turn every shade of red.
“You don’t want to know who I am,” Dante answers surprising me. The tense , hard manner he answers makes Brad back down. People don’t come here to fight and I doubt he wants to get into a fight with Dante.
Brad told me he’s a fitness instructor and he’s got muscle for sure, but not a body that rivals Dante’s.
“Come,” Dante says stretching his hand out to me to take.
Just perfect, he’s here treating me like a child. I glower at him with his outstretched hand. I’m such an idiot. I could have at least waited until I was away from the open to take my mask off. I doubt he would have recognized me with it on.
But… what is he doing here anyway?
My heart sinks as the answer comes to me in an instant. He’s here for the same thing as me. Sex.
“Princesa,” he says with more insistence. There’s a tick in his jaw that worsens the longer I stare back at him.
Rolling my eyes, I accept defeat and take his hand, allowing him to lead me away. We go through the back passage and I’m glad he waits until we’re out of ear shot before he starts bitching at me. We stop just before the doors to the fantasy rooms and he gives me a hard stare.
“What are you doing here, Rachel?” he asks.
I look at him and shake my head. This isn’t happening and because it’s not I walk away from him.
“Rachel,” he calls after me but I keep going, heels clicking against the marble flooring.
He catches up to me and tugs on my arm.
“Fuck, stop, why are you walking away from me?”
“The question is why am I not? Let go of me.”
“No. Rachel you’re in a sex club.”
Now this is a perfect example of the fucking pot calling the kettle black.
“Are you somewhere else that’s not here? Because from where I’m standing you’re here too.”
“I’m not here for sex,” he answers and I laugh.
It’s not laughter of humor though, it’s a crude one. “I’m supposed to believe that? The thing is, so what if you are here for sex? I don’t care. At least I won’t lie to you… I am here for sex. Do you know why? It’s what adults do. Legally I’ve been an adult for nearly nine years. There’s no way you think you can march me out of this club. So goodbye.”
He answers by tightening his grip on me. I try to pull against his grasp, he doesn’t let go.
“Rachel, don’t.”