Page 4 of Room One Hundred and Six
“He was a better fence than a thief,” I correct her. “But I guess we’re both about to find out either way, huh?”
I cross over Club Sin’s threshold and a world unlike anything I’ve ever experienced before greets me. As silly as it sounds, the virgin in me wants off her chain to play, but I douse those rampant feelings with the bitter truth—one mistake and I’m out, so there is no room for error.
A palpable energy washes over me. Green and yellow neon lights run along the edges of the ceiling and offer a sensual glow to the cool atmosphere.
One second I’m biting my lip worried about life and the next, my hormones take a heavy dose of dopamine.
I can only compare it to day turning to night with a snap of my fingers inside me. Nerve endings tingle in ways I’m not used to and lust’s heated touch laces through my veins warming me from the inside out. And when you’re a virgin like me, the slow throb of energy is distracting.
Calm down, Luna. Focus.
Necessity carries me deeper into the small alcove just outside the main ballroom. I would usually spend my night getting ready for the weekend crowd at one of Seattle's seediest bars. Instead, I’m surrounded by wealth and a heady scent of sex that teases my senses alive. Artificial palm fronds hang over the arched entrance. I step closer and they gently lift to reveal where Seattle’s richest residents spend their Friday evenings.
My step falters.
My eyes widen and I take a minute to tamper down the heat wanting to flood my cheeks at the view in front of me.
Oh, my. Okay then.
I swallow past the sudden shock forming a ball in my throat.
There’s easing a girl into kinky sex games. And then there’s dropping her at the edge of a full-on orgy in all its sensual glory.
Well, at least now I understand where all the moans and heavy sighs are coming from. Ten feet past a discreetly hidden reception desk, Club Sin members offer themselves up as succulent treats from their places on the floor while others plunder the jungle below them for all the tantalizingly forbidden fruit they can eat.
Fully aroused men, bejeweled nipples and lickable body paint in every known shade writhe over the top of one overly large pillow that extends the entire ballroom floor. Whoever is in charge of tonight’s event went all out to bring a tropical fantasy to life thirty-seven floors up Seattle’s skyline. Tonight’s theme is Jungle Fever, and the heat is so thick I can feel the weight of it drape over my body as I slide out of my overcoat and pass it to a hostess silently waiting in the shadows.
“Thank you,” I offer in a low voice.
Blue eyes take in the flowers delicately covering my breasts among other artistically placed flowers and leaves covering my body.
Her head dips, eyes fall to the floor in front of my feet. She’s a natural submissive and would pleasure almost any man in here with her all-too-sweet innocence.
“Ma’am. Welcome to the jungle,” she offers in a soft husk and then she disappears through a hidden door, leaving me to join the party.
I’ve dressed the part down to the glittery pink paint on my toenails and all the way to the painted-on pink hibiscus flowers covering my otherwise bare breasts.
Glass walls encase the ballroom offering the passionate sight to anyone who would rather watch than join the party. I walk the perimeter, taking in the visual delights.
With every step I take, electricity skates over my senses. It is like a lover’s teasing caress overheated skin—there with just enough pressure to let you know this is just the beginning of the assault to your senses.
Low thumping music feeds the rhythm of the tropical night and everywhere I look someone reaches their peak. Low moans and heavy sighs twine with the swinging vines above. The lush greenery creates an unbroken canopy around the dimmed chandelier which appears like the pregnant moon in the night sky.
I physically feel my heart contract.
Instead of pushing blood through my veins, the uncooperating muscle freezes for a beat. The sensual sight mixed with the sounds of passion is simply breathtaking.
A raven-haired beauty in particular catches my eye. The way she commands the attention of four men twice her size tending to her every desire is some women’s dream come true. If they are a Club Sin member that is. One day I might put my name on the list of members, but I have a lot of climbing to do before I arrive at such a carefree level in my life.
I pay little attention to the men. It’s her expression of bliss that intrigues me most. It is the way she indulges in the feel of their hands and tongues teasing and caressing over every inch of her exposed body without the fear of judgment that captivates me. I’ve never witnessed anyone who could let go and trust so openly.
One of her men lifts her from the makeshift jungle floor and settles her over the top of him while he slowly slips his engorged length past her full lips. Why can’t I have a guy like him in my life? The pleasure on his face and the way he holds her close to him makes my body ache to be in the arms of a lover. Or three. Most definitely three.
Watching them almost seems intrusive, but I also can’t pull myself away. I can’t tell if there is love between them, but the way they cradle her close makes me hungry for someone to hold me that way, too.
A ripple of envy moves through me, but no matter how jealous I am they are impossibly intoxicating and I can't look away.
Warmth washes over my tingling nerves. At first it feels good, but it’s not long before a pulsing heat settles between my thighs. It makes me feel alive. Something I haven’t felt in a long time, to be honest. But it’s also a curse. I’m not here for pleasure so I’ll be going home tonight, horny with no outlet for all this pent-up frustration.