Forever Distraction (Distraction #3) (13 page)

They were leaving hand
-in-hand. She had on the tiniest skirt and her top was tight, lifting her breasts and holding them snug to her body. He weaved through the crowd and disappeared through a door marked ‘Private’. Instantly, I wiggled off my stool to see where the door led. Morbid curiosity or disgusting self-torment, either way, I decided I was going to follow him.
You know, they say curiosity killed the Kat.

“It’s not a good idea
,” Brian said as he reached for me, but I was agile and slippery, and his hand wasn’t quick enough.

“You
’re right, Bri; you should stay.” I smoothed my dress down and glanced around the room until I saw Crew. “I’ll be back, ten minutes tops.” He made eye contact, communicating silently with me that he’d meet me there, and then I darted toward the private door. The club was full of masked and costumed people who were dancing wall-to-wall, and when I opened the door and stepped through it, the darkness swallowed me. I followed the voices and the laughter ahead of me.

The more corners we turned down
, the darker it got, and then it was pitch black, very hard to even see my feet in front of me. With my sight completely lost, my other senses kicked in. I could hear the rhythm of my heels on the hardwood flooring and Crew’s steady breathing, now directly in front of me. I smelled the scent of men’s cologne and wood. My heart began to hammer in my chest as soon as I saw the light at the end of the tunnel. I am not sure if it was anxiety or fear, but I was suddenly overly conscious of the loud sound coming from my chest.

We
slowly traipsed toward a door, the light seeping out around it. Before I opened it, I blinked my eyes as I attempted to take in the light, my body taking on its programmed form, shoulders squared and chin up. I strolled into a large foyer, where two men stood dressed in black suit jackets and bowties.
Bowties are so sweet on tough men,
I thought as I flashed them a seductive smile and bit my bottom lip, continuing to sway my hips and visibly flirt until I was standing right in front of them.
Let me in…please,
I sent them telepathically.
 

I knew they were scrutinizing me even with the
ir unmoving eye contact. The level of tension in the small room was palpable. Crew took on a protector’s role, and I sensed a fight would soon happen if I didn’t speak. I considered using my own name, but knew I wouldn’t get anywhere and I wanted in. I was desperate for a distraction and intrigued by my father’s disappearance with the blonde. My father flashed in my mind, and if he made it through, so would my mother. “I am on the list…Adeline Covington and,” I peeked at Crew, his stone-cold face reminding me of, “Jason Riggs.” After I said his name, I was worried the name Jason Riggs would send a red flag and they would escort us out, but nothing happened. Nothing.

We both stood there in
dead silence for a long while; messages were sent through the computer, the phone rang, and then something happened. One of the men reached behind him into a large box and Crew moved in front of me, backing me up into the wall directly behind us. He was using his body as a muscular shield, and then he quickly halted, reaching around his back, searching for something tucked into his pants. He groaned and cursed, and I knew from experience he was looking for his weapon. The man eyeballed Crew cautiously before he pulled out two masks from the box. My heart pumped heavy against my chest, and my palms grew sweaty as Crew gathered the masks and helped me tie mine on.

“You have privacy indicated on your account.”
The man smirked at Crew before his cold eyes landed on me, roaming my body like he was hungry for it. I nodded as a ‘thank you for letting us in’, dismissing his crude gawk as the other man moved to open the door.

The
soft mask fit over the top part of my face, similar to a masquerade mask without all the fluff. Crew’s mask was black like mine, but where mine curved up on the top, his curved down on the bottom. It was comfortably made from a black cloth and I relaxed, feeling like I was protected, holding onto my anonymity. We strolled through the threshold of doors into the dark once again. The mask was comforting, and it molded with the top-half of my face perfectly.

I wrapped my arm around Crew
’s, slightly apprehensive about the unknown environment. It remained black, and we followed the direction of the muffled noises and pleasured moans.

Jason

Alex and I
took the edge off at the club that night. I heard Brian’s laughter in my head as it rattled around. He thought I was a joke, that it was humorous Katarina left me, and I needed a fucking drink. To say I didn’t learn anything from my princess would be a lie. I learned to run from my problems. So, when the Los Angeles Sex Club invited me to stay and help out, I gladly accepted. Brad, my old boss and the brother of my ex, had been asking me to invest in a club with him. Originally, he was becoming partners with Red, but Red had been missing in action. When he found out I was at one of his sister clubs, he convinced them to keep me.

I had worked here before
about six summers ago and the lay out hadn’t been altered, and even though there were a lot of new additions, the core was the same. I had some drinks that night…a lot, and in a moment of completely arrogant power, I accepted the offer and shared a luscious, tan brunette with Alex.
It was part of the job
, I told myself. She was tied down and completely at our mercy; my old tendencies came flooding to the surface. I was at home here; the smell, the sounds of feminine moans and shrieks, and the tasty whiskey was what I deserved. My darkness thrived in this place, and I craved it.

****

Two days passed, and I remembered Bo being home alone without food, so I called my sister.

“Jessie
,” I was attempting to use as few words as possible—no words equaled no guilt and no meddling sister, “Bo needs food. I’m not coming back.” I downed another shot of whiskey before pulling the phone away from my ear to hang up.

“What about
Dad?” I heard her ask before I pushed the end button. “Are you going to call him? He needs to know you’re not coming back to work.” Her voice sounded more like my high school teacher’s, belittling and condescending.

Fuck her…fuck everyone
. The acidy sound grated on my nerves. I strolled back over to the bar in my hotel room and poured myself another drink. “Nope,” I grunted and tossed my drink back, the burning feeling more like fuel than liquid.

“Jason
, you promised me,” she continued to speak, but I hung up…and had another drink.

Hours later
, I received a text from Jessie. She was at my place to feed Bo and there was a letter on my doorstep. She opened it,
fucking nosey-ass sister
, and she texted me a picture of it. I inhaled deeply before viewing it.

Dear Jason,

I am not good with notes
—as you could see from the last note, I left you—so here goes.

First
, I want to let you know I did not deliver this. I don’t want you thinking I will walk out of some dark shadow or that I am waiting for you at home. I am in a very safe place. There are three bodyguards on me as we speak, and many alarms are set. The alarms are mainly to keep me in. So—alarms suck! Don’t use them.

Second and lastly, I want you to know I am not sad
. I haven’t shed any tears since the day I arrived here two weeks ago. If anything, I have some anger issues I need to sort out. It turns out my father’s explosive temper lives inside me, and lately, has poked his ugly head out.

Your plan to cover my body with pieces of you was successful.
My memories of your lips on me are slowly beginning to fade, and although I am forgetting what you look like and how your heartbeat feels under my fingers, I still smile when something reminds me of our time together. I have no regrets, none. I actually don’t feel anything about the secret you kept, or the condom you didn’t wear. I know I loved you, and I don’t regret that either. I have seemed to let it all go and I think you should do the same. Pretend again, for a little while, that you have control. I wish you happiness.

-Katarina Covington A.K.A. Princess

P.S. I tried really hard to find something princess
-like to say. So here goes, “Jason Jax Riggs, I was enchanted to meet you.”

My heart was officially fucked. I drank more to dull the pain, to dull the voices that told me she still cared, because I knew she didn’t. She was too good for me now; she was always too good for me, but now I pictured her in her extravagant mansion. I closed my eyes and visions of her elegant dressed, poised and graceful in every appearance, telling me we no longer fit. I drank more out of loathing and hatred for myself, and then I drank for Katarina, and for the lonely, fucked up world I was living in.

Days went by
, and I did what I do; I controlled people and was an overall asshole. I was a hamster on the wheel of life, my feet constantly moving, but I wasn’t going anywhere. Today, I got to beat the shit out of a guy for not obeying a safe word. It felt good, really good. I heard the ribs snap from the force of my fists. There was so much blood that as soon as I finished, he was taken to the hospital. It was fucking awesome.
I’m the
king of my world
.

That was it
. Here I was two weeks after my Katarina disappeared from my life. I tried to find her, but between her bodyguards and her brother Brian, everything I did was useless. Katarina was impossible to reach, impossible to even stalk. Dark cars took her to and from places, and the paparazzi would only get glimpses of her unless she was at a party and the picture was planned.

I leaned against the bar and scanned the large room. It resembled Strikers Men’s
Club in Sacramento, except on steroids. The scene rooms were on the outer edges of the bar. There were twice as many rooms for the sex addicts and sexually extreme clientele. The rooms mirrored the opposite side of the room, every room on each side of the bar decorated in a unique theme. Where bars and chains hung on the wall in one room, a large cross and whips hung in the other. It was fetish-style, but all whips and chains. Closer to where I stood were the wax rooms and the examination rooms.

The club was geared
toward pain, giving and receiving, and I had a front row seat. Well, for the previous two nights and tonight, anyway. I offered to help out on Halloween, since it brought out the sexual predator in men, and the need to make a helpless girl scream went hand-in-hand. The owner also allowed outside members in to watch the sex play after an interviewing process and completion of paperwork. Seeing the look of horror on a nonmember was priceless and I needed to laugh; it had been two long fucking weeks.

My phone rang and it jerked me from my thoughts. The guy on the other end whispered
, and it was frickin’ making my eye twitch. “There is someone who is using your name to get into the club. The girl introduced herself as Adeline Covington, and then she said her partner’s name was Jason Riggs.”

I moved quickly through the lightly lit, hidden security hall to the break room and stood over the sink, looking at myself and turning on the
faucet, trying to process what he was saying. I splashed some water on my face. “Let them in, give them masks, and stall them.”

I texted Alex immediately
, he was with me in Los Angeles to keep me out of trouble. I asked him to get here quickly, because Katarina was here. I ran a hand through my hair, curious about what the hell she was doing here. Although it wasn’t impossible to run into her, the place was packed, and the way into the club was full of mazes and strict security. It was a secret club, and purposely meant to keep out nonmembers.

I made my way to the front area of the club
’s ‘voyeur station’ and saw her. Katarina was dressed in a snug red dress, her black hair shining, even in the low light. I forgot how petite she was. Every feature had been burned into my brain, and I yelled at myself for forgetting how delicate and defenseless she was. How was she going to survive in this cruel, sick world, when she looked so fragile? I was furious with her, and I reminded myself she tricked me and left, taking my heart with her.

I studied her from a room away, close enough to see her every moment, but
not where she could see me. I also didn’t appear the same as when she left me. I resembled a grizzly bear, angry on the inside and hairy on the outside. Lately, my speech contained a lot of growls and grunts. Katarina also appeared to have lost her glow. She was sitting on someone else’s lap. I fought the urge to escort her out and punch the shit out of him for bringing her here.

She was watching the scene in front of her, the orgy of people having consensual sex. Her eyes were fixated, hypnotized
by the erotic, soft play. She licked her lips. She was horny; her eyes squeezed shut and a seductive curl hit the corner of her lips. Fuck me…I had missed those lips, the lips that brought me so much joy and pleasure. Her eyes popped open and she turned to the man she was sitting on to kiss him. She frickin’ kissed him as his hand started moving all over her body and I felt ill.

“Hey
, man, I got this if you want to spy on someone else,” Alex’s voice blasted over the music.

“Yea
h, okay.” I tore my eyes away from Katarina’s hot body and gritted my teeth. The idea of her kissing anyone else was beyond torture. I opened my eyes after long, grueling moments of mental fucking torture just imagining what the fuck he was doing to her now—yes,
doing to her
, because Katarina was still innocent in my eyes. I couldn’t avoid it any longer. My eyes snapped open; my impulse was too strong and I couldn’t deny it. In the dark corner of the crowded room, I watched her tiny figure stand up, and the moron she was with followed her.

I studied her face carefully
, and noticed the moment it transformed into disgust and self-loathing. It brought joy to all my parts, knowing no one could replace me. She took the back of her hand and swiped her mouth, trying to get his trace off her. My smile widened almost painfully, the look of misery on her face making me instantly happy. Alex hung back and I moved to the other side of the club. My eyes never veered from her for longer than a few seconds. She was wearing a tiny red dress, and she carried her shoes in her hand as she tiptoed on the hardwood floor. She was still the sexiest creature I had ever laid my eyes on.

To say I was one horny
-ass motherfucker for that girl was an understatement. Her delicate movements, the way her hips rocked from side to side, even the shift of her chin as she entered the new room showed her confidence. I knew from experience she was maintaining a performance in this new uncomfortable setting involving crowds and chaos. The only thing restraining me from running to her and burying my stiff cock deep inside her was the fucking letter, the letter telling me she had no feelings for me, the letter that told me to go fuck myself. So I watched, studied, and predicted her next move.

She sat in front of a scene and her male companion tried to get her to sit on his lap, but Katarina refused him. Was she playing hard to get? I noticed the expression on her face was forced, practiced. Katarina didn’t like him. My grin turned smug and my pants grew tight. There are many scenes Katarina could see from where she sat, but I could only see one from my position. The other scenes were only partial visions. I took a look at the male in the room
, who was just getting started, and I wondered how scared she would be of the performer.

It was Doc
; Doc was raw and it could go either way. I knew Doc when he lived in Sacramento about six years ago before he moved to Los Angeles. He was a Dominant I aspired to be like, extremely controlled. I had watched him with his wife as he dialed into her moans and gave her pleasure after pleasure. His movement swift and precise, he was very meticulous and never missed his mark. He was so into it the audience never affected him either way. The problem was when he got pissed. If he was with someone other than his wife and she said the wrong thing or reacted the wrong way, he went a little ballistic.

Fuck
little
—it was more like fucking crazy. The pain for the sub got extreme and no one could help her. The only thing she could do was use her safe word, but only if she remembered to. Sometimes a sub was so confused by sudden mood shifts that she or he forgot even their own name. At this point, I hoped the pretty blonde sub he was with played her part to a T, because I wanted to watch Katarina for just a while longer. He pulled out a red and black, heavy tail flogger, the one with suede mixed with leather. It was a combination of a soft sweep and sharp sting. He flicked his wrist and loud, biting snaps rang out, and I could feel his rush, the rush of pleasure extending all the way to my feet, where I gripped the hardwood floor with my toes.

Katarina disappeared from my sight as more people crowded around the scene and I closed my eyes trying to fucking calm myself, reminding myself she was no longer mine,
repeating it in my head to try to convince myself.
Not. Fucking. Mine
.

I turned and watched others enjoying the freedom of the sex club. A man we call Old Man Jefferson was spanking his wife, an Asian woman almost half his age. The older generation didn’t use first names. They had nicknames that helped with the continued privacy. The couple directly in front of me w
as sweating, and I could feel the sexual intoxication that ran between them. It was thicker than tension and beyond lust. It was a drug only certain people could let themselves feel, let themselves succumb to. Once you felt it, there was nothing that could replace it.