Praise (Salacious Players Club #1)(33)

Trying to make myself as inconspicuous as possible, I slink into the darker corners, trying not to be a creep. Moving slowly down the hall, my heart is literally pounding so hard in my chest that I can feel it in my ears. What am I doing here? This is insane.

But my curiosity is too strong, and I’ve gotten this far. One slow step at a time, I make my way farther down the hallway. The first window is open to a room that’s too dark to see anything. It’s a dim blue light, and there’s movement on the other side—the quick, pounding motion of someone being…well, pounded.

My throat constricts as I look away then back again.

And my belly warms.

But I don’t stop, turning my head to the other side, where the woman is being dry humped into the window. I can hear the gentle hum of the man’s voice as he whispers in her ear. I can only imagine what he’s saying…and the filthy thoughts only make me hotter. Beyond the window is what looks like a red room with no one inside. There are a lot of things hanging from the wall, a lot of things I can’t even assign names to; I’m guessing whips, paddles, cuffs…that sort of thing.

Not my taste, so I keep walking. I pass by a couple standing in the middle of the room, giggling to each other as they enjoy the view. The woman smiles at me and the man says hello in a way that makes me walk a little faster. I nod politely and move on.

The room on the opposite side is blocked by a black curtain with shreds of light peeking through. So people who want to use the rooms, without being exhibitionists, can do so. A little disappointing, actually.

Seriously, who am I?

When I reach the throne room, where I once sat before it was finished, I pause. There are people in it. Three people, unless I’m missing one. It’s dimly lit from the inside, enough to see vague figures and movement but not really enough to recognize faces. I then realize that this means we can see them, but they can’t really see us.

My gaze still bounces from the dark hallway to the people in the room because, even though I know it’s made for watching, it feels strange and wrong to just keep staring.

Plus, there’s the awkward sensation of being aroused…in public.

My thin, cotton thong is currently soaked, and every slide of friction when I walk sends sparks up my spine. I have a strong urge to touch myself, which I’m obviously not going to do. Not because it wouldn’t be appropriate here, I mean…look around. But I just can’t. I couldn’t. No. That’s too weird.

Still, I stop at the throne room and force myself to look. I don’t know what to do with my hands as I stand here and stare, so I lock my forearms together at my waist.

There’s a woman sitting on the giant throne, and another is kneeling in front of her—just as Garrett illustrated for me. She’s definitely doing what I think she’s doing with her face buried between the other woman’s legs.

My mouth goes dry. It feels so wrong to be watching this, but I can’t look away.

There’s someone standing next to the throne, but I can’t quite make out if it’s a woman or man. They’re just stroking the woman in the chair’s shoulders and head. Every few moments, the woman covers her face or lets out a giggle so loud I can make it out over the sound of the music in the main room. She looks almost euphoric, full of smiles and moans, shifting back and forth between embarrassment and pleasure.

The intensity between my legs has grown painful, and I feel myself starting to sweat. I squeeze my thighs together, briefly wondering if I could make myself come without actually touching myself at all. My thighs rub together subtly, and it’s like trying to scratch an itch through three layers of wool.

“Enjoying yourself?”

I let out a gasp and move to jump away, but a strong hand wraps around my middle, hauling me against his body, his lips next to my ear.

“Relax, Charlotte.”

“You scared me.”

“You seem a little jumpy,” Emerson replies with a teasing grin.

I feel like I’ve been caught masturbating or watching porn. Shame washes over me like being doused in ice-cold water.

“I don’t think I’m supposed to be back here,” I whisper without turning toward him. He’s holding me in place, so we’re both watching the threesome in the throne room.

“You wouldn’t be here if you weren’t allowed to. I was hoping you’d find this area.” So he did gesture to the bouncer to let me in. I figured, but I’m curious as to why. Last time we were here, Emerson wanted me nowhere near this lifestyle, but now it feels as if he’s urging me into it.

“It feels so strange to watch,” I whisper.

“They want you to watch.” His deep, velvet voice warms me right back up.

We stand in silence for a moment, watching the show in the throne room, my body still humming with arousal.

“No one can see you here, Charlotte. Doesn’t it feel liberating? To know you can do anything you want.”

My lips part and I try to force in a breath, even though my chest feels like it weighs a ton. My body has turned into a ticking time bomb, ready to explode, and I want to scream with this need I’m feeling.

Emerson’s body is hard against mine and he’s still holding me around my waist. In the dark room, the man has moved to the front of the throne with the ladies. He leans over and kisses the kneeling woman. Then, he keeps moving until he’s standing behind her.