The Sinner's Club [18+]

chapter four.

THAT NIGHT when I arrive at the club, Cynthia dismisses me from the changing room pretty quickly.

"Nathaniel wants to see you in his office," she tells me, curling a woman's hair carefully.

The all-too familiar dread rises up as I trudge down the hallway, toward his office.

My feet drag and I won't deny that I'm afraid.

But still, I suspect something much worse would befall me if I didn't show up tonight. You don't take a loan out from someone like Nathaniel Sterling and then not pay it back and live to tell the tale.

I knock on the frosted glass.

"Come in."

His voice immediately sends shivers racing up my spine. I walk in and find him behind his desk, typing away.

When he sees me though, his interest in his shiny, sleek laptop immediately dies.

"Right on time," he says, mouth pulled up in a smirk.

I stare at him, saying nothing. If he wants a doll that mindlessly does whatever he says, then that's what he'll get.

He rises from his chair and opens a drawer in his desk, pulling out a black gift box with a white ribbon tied around it.

"I got you something." He holds it out to me.

My eyebrows furrow. "Why?"

"Open it."

Reluctantly, I unknot the ribbon and open the box. Inside is a baby blue, gem-stone encrusted lingerie set. A bra, with a reflective crystal hanging from the middle, a matching garter belt, and a thong. It is beautiful and detailed, well-crafted unlike what I wore last night.

A pair of sheer, tan stockings are folded beneath it.

"This hardly seems like a present for me."

He chuckles. "You're right, it is more for my sake than yours."

Is he like this with all of the girls that work for him? Making them strip for him personally and buying them specific lingerie sets?

I have a sneaking feeling he isn't.

He nods toward my clothes. "Go on."

Heat scorches my cheeks, but I do as he says, unbuttoning my blouse and letting it fall down to the floor. My bra is simple, plain cream. I unclip it and take a moment to ready myself mentally before pulling it off, baring my torso to him.

His eyes immediately pin to my breasts and his lips part.

What would his lips feel like on my body?

The thought pops into my head before I can suppress it. It is something I should not be thinking about but...I can't help it. There is something intoxicating about him.

Fumbling with the button to my jeans—I have decided wearing pants is the safest option—I manage to get them open and roll them down my legs, kicking them aside.

Only my underwear remains.

He leans back against his desk, eyes still melting over my body like he is trying to memorize every line of it.

"Take them off," he urges.

I hook my thumbs in the sides and yank them down my legs.

For a minute that feels like an eternity, he just watches me. Then, he reaches into the gift box and draws out the soft blue g-string panties.

He steps toward me, towering above me, eyes as black as night. When he crouches down in front of me, his breath trails over the skin of my naked body. He takes each of my heels off and places them aside.

"Step," he instructs, holding out the panties. Pointing my toes, I step one leg in, then the other. He drags the fabric up slowly, his knuckles brushing against my thighs and hips. His searing hands settle on my waist and he stands, so close that I can smell the touch of whiskey on his breath, his spicy cologne and the hint of sandalwood beneath it.

Why are the most attractive men on the earth always also the worst?

He reaches back in for the garter belt and then wraps his arms around my body to click it into place behind my back. It sits low on my stomach. Next, he reaches for the stockings.

"I can do this myself," I point out, mortified to find my voice all choppy and breathy. I am trying to ignore the pulsing between my legs but it's getting difficult.

"I know you can," he states simply, crouching back down to begin rolling up the stocking on one leg. He caresses the inside of my thigh lightly and my knee wobbles.

The other stocking is put on in a similar fashion and then he clips the garter belt onto the top of them, where they end mid-thigh.

When he stands, he ghosts his mouth over my nipple and a sound leaves my throat as I unintentionally jerk forward.

His eyes lock onto mine. They are pits of endless hunger and need. No one has ever looked at me this way.

"Turn." His voice is sharp and it pierces through me. I turn around slowly, unsure what he's about to do.

He brushes my hair to the side and my eyes slide closed as I feel his breath skim over the shell of my ear.

Then...a gentle kiss to the back of my neck.

I sway, genuinely feeling like I might collapse at his feet.

"Good girl," he whispers the praise to me.

I hear some rustling as he reaches back toward his desk. His arms come around my body and he helps me slip the bra on. The final piece of the outfit. He clips it up behind me, his knuckles running up and down my spine.

I force myself to step away from him, trying to find some clarity in this haze of desire, and push my feet into my heels.

For as long as I can bear it, I let him stare at me. Then my arms wrap around myself, trying to cover at least an ounce of skin.

He slides his hands into his pockets, but I don't miss the way they are clenched into tight fists.

"I have an important business meeting tonight," he says. "And you're going to be our private entertainment."

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