Read Online Tell Me a Desire (The Story Series Book 2) by Tamara Lush - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Tamara Lush
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“It says here Playville is open for pansexual action until 3 a.m.,” I read aloud from my phone, then glanced up and saw a sign for a medical supply place. “Are we in an industrial park?”
“Mmhmm. Offices and warehouses,” Caleb murmured mildly, then turned his Mercedes down a quiet street filled with unmarked, flat buildings with gray facades. His hand drifted to my knee, then up my bare thigh, pushing the hem of my dress toward my hips. I shivered from his touch.
“I think it’s right…here.” I squinted at my phone, then at the parking lot, where there were several dozen cars. Caleb maneuvered the car into a space and killed the ignition.
“You sure you want to do this?” he asked.
I nodded. “Yes. It’s research. You?”
“Yeah. I do.”
“Okay, but…” I paused and rubbed my lips together, feeling the slick of red lipstick coat my mouth. “I want to make one thing clear right now. I don’t want to have a threesome. If that’s what people even do in there. I don’t think they do, but I want to set the ground rules.”
“Oh, Emma,” Caleb sighed, then smoothed my hair back with both hands and gently combed my curls with his fingers. “That’s not what I want either. I’m here to share this with you, for your research and maybe for us. I can’t guarantee I won’t get turned on by watching, though. But I love you and I want only you. Remember that, okay?”
I nodded. Maybe this was a bad idea, going to a club like this under the guise of research when I was feeling so unsure of my relationship with him. Or maybe, I thought as the heels of my four-inch black Louboutins struck the pavement, acting out dominant and submissive roles would bring us closer together. Make us trust each other more. And it was his fantasy, which I was happy to indulge. I wanted to never stop showing him how much he meant to me.
“Hey. Come here.” He took me in his arms, right there on the sidewalk near a night jasmine bush blooming with a sultry scent. The night was humid and still, and frogs from a nearby retention pond screeched at a loud pitch.
Caleb kissed up my neck, then paused at my ear. “I love you.”
Not wanting to get my red lipstick all over his skin, I stroked the back of his head, his short hair silky under my fingers. “And I love you. Let’s go have an adventure.”
Grinning, Caleb splayed his hand on the small of my back as we reached an unmarked door. I was about to ask if we were in the right place when a couple emerged. They were older than us, maybe in their fifties, and dressed in Florida-formal: the woman had on a thin, black dress and black heels, and the man wore a black shirt and jeans. They smiled and greeted us. Maybe I was reading too much into the tone, but the way the man said “good evening” was infused with knowing.
We must be in the right place.
It was instantly cool, quiet, and darker than the outdoors when we stepped inside, which was why a woman’s voice sent my heart rate into overdrive.
“Welcome to Playville.” I spotted a striking woman with short, dark hair in her twenties sitting at an illuminated window, like any other club. As if we were going to pay a cover and dance to a DJ. Caleb propelled me to the window, and I listened as they made small talk. He paid the entrance fee, and then she handed us a list of rules.
No alcohol, no sex, no touching unless given permission. Watching was okay; interrupting others’ play wasn’t. I nodded thoughtfully as I read while Caleb kept his left hand firmly on my back.
“I’m going to have Doug show you around, give you the official tour.” The woman’s voice was perkier than I would have anticipated for a BDSM club.
Then, a man appeared. He was around Caleb’s age with a bald head, glasses, and a goatee. He wasn’t handsome, wasn’t ugly, wasn’t anything in particular. Just a regular guy, which put me at ease. He had an easy smile, though, and his warm, professional tone also soothed my
“It says here Playville is open for pansexual action until 3 a.m.,” I read aloud from my phone, then glanced up and saw a sign for a medical supply place. “Are we in an industrial park?”
“Mmhmm. Offices and warehouses,” Caleb murmured mildly, then turned his Mercedes down a quiet street filled with unmarked, flat buildings with gray facades. His hand drifted to my knee, then up my bare thigh, pushing the hem of my dress toward my hips. I shivered from his touch.
“I think it’s right…here.” I squinted at my phone, then at the parking lot, where there were several dozen cars. Caleb maneuvered the car into a space and killed the ignition.
“You sure you want to do this?” he asked.
I nodded. “Yes. It’s research. You?”
“Yeah. I do.”
“Okay, but…” I paused and rubbed my lips together, feeling the slick of red lipstick coat my mouth. “I want to make one thing clear right now. I don’t want to have a threesome. If that’s what people even do in there. I don’t think they do, but I want to set the ground rules.”
“Oh, Emma,” Caleb sighed, then smoothed my hair back with both hands and gently combed my curls with his fingers. “That’s not what I want either. I’m here to share this with you, for your research and maybe for us. I can’t guarantee I won’t get turned on by watching, though. But I love you and I want only you. Remember that, okay?”
I nodded. Maybe this was a bad idea, going to a club like this under the guise of research when I was feeling so unsure of my relationship with him. Or maybe, I thought as the heels of my four-inch black Louboutins struck the pavement, acting out dominant and submissive roles would bring us closer together. Make us trust each other more. And it was his fantasy, which I was happy to indulge. I wanted to never stop showing him how much he meant to me.
“Hey. Come here.” He took me in his arms, right there on the sidewalk near a night jasmine bush blooming with a sultry scent. The night was humid and still, and frogs from a nearby retention pond screeched at a loud pitch.
Caleb kissed up my neck, then paused at my ear. “I love you.”
Not wanting to get my red lipstick all over his skin, I stroked the back of his head, his short hair silky under my fingers. “And I love you. Let’s go have an adventure.”
Grinning, Caleb splayed his hand on the small of my back as we reached an unmarked door. I was about to ask if we were in the right place when a couple emerged. They were older than us, maybe in their fifties, and dressed in Florida-formal: the woman had on a thin, black dress and black heels, and the man wore a black shirt and jeans. They smiled and greeted us. Maybe I was reading too much into the tone, but the way the man said “good evening” was infused with knowing.
We must be in the right place.
It was instantly cool, quiet, and darker than the outdoors when we stepped inside, which was why a woman’s voice sent my heart rate into overdrive.
“Welcome to Playville.” I spotted a striking woman with short, dark hair in her twenties sitting at an illuminated window, like any other club. As if we were going to pay a cover and dance to a DJ. Caleb propelled me to the window, and I listened as they made small talk. He paid the entrance fee, and then she handed us a list of rules.
No alcohol, no sex, no touching unless given permission. Watching was okay; interrupting others’ play wasn’t. I nodded thoughtfully as I read while Caleb kept his left hand firmly on my back.
“I’m going to have Doug show you around, give you the official tour.” The woman’s voice was perkier than I would have anticipated for a BDSM club.
Then, a man appeared. He was around Caleb’s age with a bald head, glasses, and a goatee. He wasn’t handsome, wasn’t ugly, wasn’t anything in particular. Just a regular guy, which put me at ease. He had an easy smile, though, and his warm, professional tone also soothed my
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