CHAPTER 5 - Scarlet

Jazz's POV

Oh my God, what am I doing here? Alone? With him? What has gotten into me?

I'm not usually this reckless. I should've stopped the car when he gave me the opportunity. I should've left when he first made his proposition to me.

My pride and ego had wanted to reject him. But I'd been weak, too helpless and fucking needy.

Even before he touched me, even before he made me combust with orgasm in a way I'd never experienced before, the risk of it all had been too thrilling to pass up on.

I knew I wanted this, him, when he slipped his fingers into me and made me cum so violently. The car session had been full of promises of things to come.

It no longer mattered that he was offering money; I wanted him to fuck me for free.

His customized room in Scarlet’s looks like something out of an erotic novel.

I stare in disbelief.

It is designed entirely in leather and gleaming polished wood. You'd think you'd stepped into a world of deviancy: a giant bed in the center of the room, but all around, it looks like a sex shop.

The walls are lined with all sorts of whips, restraining cuffs, handcuffs, chains, and ropes.

Sex swings, suspension bondage, and all manner of sex toys are positioned everywhere. Wands, dildos, anal plugs, nipple clamps, ice rollers, vibrators, leather chokers, thigh cuffs, hog-tie harness, bondage swing set, ankle cuffs, the list goes on.

What in the world have I gotten myself into?

I should've known from the beginning that he wasn't regular. Everything about him had screamed weirdly attractive.

Overhead, through invisible speakers, The Weeknd’s “Lost in the fire” filters through, setting the mood in the room.

He is standing near the bar, pouring whiskey into a glass.

Turning, he sees the horrified expression on my face and bursts out chuckling.

"You look like you've seen a ghost!" he says.

I gesture around. "This is a little bit crazy!"

“I guess I must apologize for not telling you what you're getting into. My taste is a bit more unorthodox, Jazz,” he says.

My brows arch. Unorthodox? This is out-of-the-world crazy!

He steps towards me, slowly, and hands me a glass of whiskey. “Your old boyfriends might have boring sex moves. I, on the other hand, want you on your knees bound and chained. I want to give you instructions and have you obey them! I want to whip you till your entire body is red and marked,” he presses on.

The air has left my body. I try to clear my throat. “I'm not very good at following instructions,” I mumble in low tone.

An image of myself on my knees bound and gagged is making me feel hot inside.

He cocks his head to the side. “Everyone's got that side to them, Jazz. You just haven't found yours yet.”

I swallow hard. A lump stays in my chest area.

I've never done any of this before. I had only read about BDSM in books. It's never been something I think about or wanted to explore.

I'd always been content with the old typical sex I had with my boyfriend.

This is some next level shit. This is crazy. This is….interesting.

Now would be the perfect time to run. But I can't define or control the emotions rampaging through me.

His gaze, his touch, his mere presence sends turmoil through my body. I am seized by an undeniable need to be possessed by him.

He approaches me, reaching out a hand to caress my cheek. “You're so fragile. The things I could do to you, Jazz, the many ways I could break you,” he whispers under his breath.

Goosebumps cover my body. “I'm not that breakable!”

His brows lift in surprise, a small smirk on the corner of his eyes. “Oh yeah? What do you know about pain?” he asks.

I clear my throat. “I know I have a pretty high tolerance of it. I've been screwed around my entire life so you could say I've developed a high tolerance for it!”

He smiles approvingly. “Good, that's good, because I derive pleasure in pain. You could call me a masochist.”

I'm stunned. “A masochist?”

The word comes out frightfully.

He chuckles, a rich sound that comes from somewhere deep inside him. “You make me sound dangerous like a sociopath.”

He pauses, lowering himself to sit on the chair facing me, crossing his legs. “I'm just drawn to pain. Giving it, receiving it.”

My thighs press together, my insides flushing with excitement. “You like pain?”

He nods, sipping from his glass. “I do.”

I follow his example, sipping too. The alcohol burns my throat. “What kind of pain?”

The ends of his eyes circle with amusement. “What kind do you think you can give?”

My eyes lower to his rippling muscles. “I want to bite you.”

He widens his eyes in surprise. I couldn't even believe myself.

Those words have never left my lips before. I've never felt this enormous need to bite a man. Certainly not when I was with my ex-boyfriend, Kev.

But here I am dying to get my mouth on his muscles.

Zeke tilts his head, holding my eyes. “Oh yeah?”

I lean over, tapping the muscles on his gigantic arms. “Right there. I want to take a giant bite!”

It sounds basic but right now, it's all I could think about.

He stretches out the hand. “Go for it!”

At first I think he's joking but his expression is serious albeit a little teasing.

I lean down, put my teeth against his skin and bite down.

He doesn't even flinch. “Is that the best you can do, Jazz?” he teases.

Emboldened, I take another giant bite. This time, I let my teeth sink deeper, harder, taking a giant bite. A vampirisitic urge overtakes me.

I almost want to eat his skin, drink his blood, feel him between my teeth.

He lets out a small pleasurable groan. “Good girl,” he grumbles.

Shit. I let go. “Sorry, I don't know why I did that. I don't know what's happening to me."

He merely laughs, staring at the mark I left on his arm. “You're discovering another side of you. I love it.”

Finally, his eyes settles on me. I watch them darken, glinting with need.

He moves closer to me, a hungry expression on his face.

Touching the side of my neck, he pulls me closer. "My turn!"