Bind (Manhattan Lux Book 1): Manhattan Lux (18 page)

“You’re saying Jack does all this…that all his businesses…are what? About saving the world?”

Wyatt nodded. “In a sense.”

“What? He’s like Batman?” Aiko frowned. “Hardly. We
literally
just helped a spoiled rich kid get out of a DUI, Wyatt. Don’t paint this shit as loftier than it is.”

“It is loftier. And if you haven’t realized that yet, then you’ve been spending too much time on zombie shows and not enough time paying attention. Yes, we do a job, and most of the time what we’re doing is pretty straight forward. But with Jack’s clients… That kid with the DUI? Yeah, we made it go away, but not before Jack sent him to rehab for six months with mandatory follow-up drug testing through one of our partners for two years after. And the company his Dad owns just donated half a million to M.A.D.D.”

“So that makes it okay?”

“Somebody was gonna fix that kid’s record anyway, Aiko. With us, at least some semblance of justice gets done. And what you have to understand is that every part of Jack’s Empire informs the other.”

“Meaning what?”

“Meaning he has very lofty goals indeed. Goals you don’t know anything about.”

“Okay then tell me.”

“Look. After Jack’s friend passed, he made other friends in the sex industry. One of those friends had a transformative moment, just like Jack did.”

“Go on.”

“One of her clients slipped up. He said something during one of their…sessions that led her to believe he was into children.”

“Gross.”

“Yeah. She did a little digging on her own, met Jack in the process, and basically ended up uncovering not only a child porn ring, but human trafficking. Sex workers held against their will.”

“Oh my God.” Aiko shook her head, horror and repulsion contorting her features.

“Sasha St. Cloud,” Wyatt said.

“The owner of Cloud’s, that new Gentleman’s Club?”

“Yes.” Wyatt nodded. “And one of Jack’s partners in Lux.”

“Okay I’m still missing something here. I just don’t see how this—”

There was a soft sound at the door, and they all looked up. Jack leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest.

“As Sasha says. Everyone loves sex, but as long as only the bad guys are running things, it will remain dirty.”

“I’m sorry,” Aiko began, and Jack held up a hand, shook his head to let her know the apology wasn’t necessary.

“What if,” he continued. “What if the good guys got into the sex business? See, so much of sex work is still illegal, and because of that, abuse and criminal activity flourish. The government penalizes the wrong people and tries to legislate it all away. As if they ever could, as if we’d all just suddenly stop having sex.”

“As if.”

“The goal with Lux is to create a safe environment for people to explore their fantasies. Whatever they desire. Well, scratch that. Whatever they desire barring children and animals.”

“Safe, sane, and consensual,” Aiko said. “I get that.”

“We’re the good guys,” said Wyatt. “We can do this right.”

“And,” said Jack. “We can keep an eye on the bad guys in the process.”

“So you see the club as a safe place for people to play, and kind of an undercover operation at the same time. An opportunity to find out who the bad guys are and take ‘em out?”

Wyatt blinked and threw up his hands. “Yeah, exactly that.”

Jack smiled. “She just did a better job explaining it than you did, and in fewer words.” Wyatt frowned at him and Jack shrugged. “I might’ve been listening at the door,” he admitted.

“Alright then.” Aiko grabbed a laptop from one of the desks and crossed to the door. “Great chat guys.” She turned to Jack. “Sorry I was mean to you. Sorry about your dead friend, too. Malcolm and I have just a few more things to tweak, and then this place will be ready for bone time. Ciao.” She glided down the hallway, before any of them could respond.

“Sorry sir,” said Malcolm. “I—”

Before he could finish, Aiko appeared at the door again.

“Hey Jack, if you’re like kinky Batman, then I’m calling dibs right now on Catwoman because I’ve already got a latex suit.” She glanced at Malcolm. “You coming or what?”

T
onight was the night
. After months of setbacks and postponements, Lux was finally going to open its doors.

She almost couldn’t believe it. They’d been nearly this close before—just weeks away from opening when Aaron told them he wasn’t ready. She remembered the visceral reaction she’d had to the news, like a bucket of ice water had been dumped over her head.

Jinx had poured her heart into designing this club from the ground up. She’d obsessed over all aspects, lighting, decor, the various theme rooms. The whole vibe needed to be just perfect, and she’d been determined to get it right, every minor detail. To have all that suddenly torn away, it had hurt.

At the time, she’d tried to grit her teeth and get over it. After all, it’s business. Delays happen. It was better to get it right in the end than to open before they were ready. That’s what she’d told herself.

But Aaron’s timeline kept slipping. Weeks had turned into months, and after a while, she stopped letting herself dream. She’d put Lux to the back of her mind and hardened herself to the idea that her masterpiece might never see the light of day.

Of course, this
is
a sex club. Nothing that goes on between these velvet draped walls is
supposed
to see the light of day.
The thought made her smile. Wyatt appeared at the corner of her eye and the smile broadened.

“You’re in a good mood.” He perched on a stool on the other side of the bar, rested his chin on his fist, and watched her as she fiddled with the bottles of liquor on the shelves. “Whatchya doing?”

“It’s silly,” she said, glancing over her shoulder. “But I really need all the labels to face front, and preferably for all the bottles to be arranged by type and then alphabetically.”

“Why?”

“I’ll just feel better.”

“Well then, I’ll help.” He hopped off the stool, came around the bar, and set to work on the whisky section. “Holy crap.” Wyatt whistled. “This is some fancy hooch.”

“Best of the best.” Jinx nodded. “Jack got Leo Wallace to cater us. He owns MacMangia! It’s one of the hottest restaurants right now. We’ll basically be like a pop up location for him until we get our own staff and menu.”

Wyatt chuckled. “I never thought anyone could make Scottish and Italian food go together, but Jack took me there a while back, and I have to admit, it’s pretty tasty. That place is always jammed too, so that should be an extra draw for Lux.”

“That’s what I’m hoping.” Jinx stopped organizing and stepped back from the bottles, taking in the whole picture. “Damn,” she said, biting her lip.

Wyatt tilted his head, his brow furrowed as though he were searching for what had disappointed her. “What?” he asked.

“Nothing,” she said, shaking her head. “It’s perfect, everything is perfect. Everything is done. There is literally nothing left to do and I can’t stand it. I’m going crazy with anticipation and nerves and excitement and—”

Wyatt reached for her, ran his palms down her arms. Dragging her hands up to his mouth he brushed his lips over the soft skin, watching her face as he kissed her knuckles. “Breathe,” he said softly.

Jinx let his gaze wash over her, inhaled deeply, then exhaled. “Okay,” she whispered. “But I still feel crazy. Any other ideas?”

Wyatt grinned. “Well, we could fuck.”

“Shit! That reminds me!”

Wyatt arched a brow.

“Okay so there’s something I have to show you, and you might not like it.”

“That sounds ominous,” he said, frowning.

Jinx hugged his arm to her side and threaded her fingers a little more tightly with his.

“Everyone else is out eating, showering, napping, whatever they need to do to get ready for tonight.”

Wyatt bent low and nuzzled her neck. “Those all sound good to me, but I still vote for fucking.”

“Later,” she said, pushing him back with a soft laugh. “Right now, I’d like to take advantage of their absence, and just, well, get this over with.”

“So no fucking?” he asked, and his face went all sad puppy.

“Wyatt.” Her tone was flat. “I need you to be serious for a minute, because what I have to show you might make or break the next phase of this…whatever this is.”

Sad puppy went wolf as his gaze darkened and his jaw set hard. “You got it. But I’ll say this first. Unless what you’ve got to show me is video of you torching an orphanage with napalm, we’re good.”

* * *

S
he led
him down the hall, past some of the club’s more elaborate attractions, and through a set of satin-tufted doors into something she called the Tantric Room.

It had more flat screens, some puffy, excessively pillowed couch things, weird twisty upholstered coffee tables, and the walls were positively dripping with richly textured fabrics that hung low across the ceiling and shimmered in the dim mood lighting.

He let Jinx settle him on one of the couch things, didn’t protest when she pushed him back against the pillows, and tried not to whine audibly when she didn’t join him, but instead disappeared behind a curtain.

The flat screen in front of him glowed to life, the image on it blurry, out of focus, but still recognizable as a hell of a lot of bare skin. A low moan echoed from the speakers. Soft, a little husky, a sexy lilt on the tail end.

His blood ran cold as the picture on the screen came into focus.

A torso. Naked. Dewy with sweat. Nipples ripe with arousal.

A man’s hands palmed the breasts, ran thumbs over the nipples until the torso was writhing in response. The hands moved out of the frame and returned, a length of black silk rope stretched taught between them. The hands jerked, snapped the rope even tighter, and pressed down, the satin cutting a black line across the pale expanse of the woman’s flesh. Wrapped, over and under, around and back again, until the woman’s breasts were lifted and displayed, plump and pinked, engorged by the bindings, and arousal.

Wyatt gaped, his eyes glued to the screen.

The man said something in a low voice, husky and and taunting. He plucked lazily at the woman’s nipples and laughed when she moaned. Wyatt stepped closer to the screen, straining to make out the words, but the man stopped speaking. There were only sounds now. Breathing. Rapid. Labored. Lustful. The man’s hands stroked down the woman’s breasts, tracing the line of bindings lower, over her rib cage, lower, skating lazy circles over across her belly…lower.

The camera panned down.

GULP.

Wyatt knew that pussy.

Closely trimmed. Sweet soft petals that opened wide, blooming for a set of fingers that were not his own.

Spread. Bared. Exposed.

Wyatt’s fist flew to his mouth. A reaction so swift and primal that he had to bite down fast to stop the momentum, lest he punch a hole in the back of his head.

He tasted blood.

“Fuck,” he whispered, and the sound was half complaint, half command.

Wait. What?

That was Jinx, on the screen. His Jinx…
Jun
. And some faceless villain was about to stuff her full of cock. And God help him, Wyatt wasn’t entirely sure he didn’t want to watch it happen.

The man’s hands moved away from her pussy. One hand gripped her hip tightly, his fingers making visible dents in her flesh. Then his torso came into view. That same rough hand pumping a cock, thick and hard, nearly purple with anticipation. The man pressed forward, the wide blunt tip disappearing into damp folds.

Wyatt hauled himself off the pillows and dragged his ass to the edge of the couch. His hand flew to his crotch and he squinted at the screen, mouth gaping and head craning as if he could get a better view of the action just by changing his own perspective.

That’s my Jun!
His mind screamed. But his cock, that fucking traitor, his cock was yelling at him to shut the fuck up and let the nice people get on with it.

The camera panned again, moved closer. The torsos on screen shifted and suddenly it was all just RIGHT THERE. Cock. Pussy. The faceless villain was teasing her, dragging his dick over her clit, through slick folds and down to probe around her entrance.

She moaned again, and Wyatt nearly cut loose right in his jeans. This was too painful, he had to stop it.

Funny how he didn’t for one second consider asking Jinx to turn this shit off. That would’ve been one way to stop it. But no, his cock was entirely in control now. And it said the show must go on.

He unzipped, took his swollen length in hand and pumped. Pumped in time to that cock on screen until he was no longer consciously aware that that guy wasn’t him. That that cock wasn’t
his
.

He watched.

Hips wiggled up, eager, wanting…no…
begging
.

“Please,” the Jinx on screen said. “Give it to me.”

Wyatt groaned as the man on the screen laughed. Hips thrust forward and that camera caught every nasty inch of his progress.

In.

The movement was punctuated by the soft, wet smack of flesh against flesh.

Out.

Jinx’s sweet cunt clenching around that cock, as it pulled back.

In again.

Wyatt grit his teeth and fisted himself harder, but before he could go further Jinx, the real Jinx, emerged from the curtains, curled her arms around his waist and pressed a kiss to the center of his back. His breath hitched and his own clumsy paws were replaced by long slender fingers stroking him confidently in time to the action on the screen.

“So….” she prompted, those talented hands never easing the assault on his cock.

“So…” He paused a moment, tried to find his breath, then continued. “You’ve got exactly twenty seconds to explain this to me, and then I’m gonna fuck your brains out, and then I’ll probably want a lot of pizza and some of that expensive hooch.”

Her fist tightened and he felt her laughter against his back.

“The man in the video is a former boyfriend. He and I met because of our mutual love for Kinbaku. We did fetish modeling and videos together. Very graphic erotic videos. That is one of them. When I started the planning for Lux, before I met you, I asked for, and received, his permission to share our videos in the club.”

On screen Jinx’s knees were pressed to her shoulders and the cock was thrusting into her with deep relentless strokes that made Wyatt’s mouth run dry. He tried to croak out a response. No dice. So he nodded and grunted for her to continue.

Jinx kept stroking, completed the hasty unfastening of his belt that he’d attempted, and let his jeans fall to the floor.

“We’ll be showing a lot of videos at the club,” she said. “Only a few feature me, and my face is never shown. Not because I’m ashamed, but just because I’m not on the menu here. The videos are meant to stimulate the patrons, not advertise the staff. I added the videos to our library months ago. Before I knew you. I’d still like to show them. But, I realized today, that in light of our …. Well that you might have strong feelings about that.”

Wyatt pressed his hands over hers, reinforcing her deathly grip on his cock. “What do you think?” he croaked. “Think these feelings seem strong to you?”

“Wyatt.”

He stopped her hands. On screen the other Jinx was coming, her hips bucking as the man held her firm, the moans of his own release harmonizing with hers. Wyatt stilled, all his senses honed in on the image he was watching, as alert and aware as he’d ever been on a mission.

He did not blink.

The man pulled back, semi hard cock squelching reluctantly from her cunt, short streams of cum spurting from the tip with each tiny aftershock. She was coated in it. Pearly pink vulnerable skin, glazed in some other guys jizz.

“Oh shit,” Jinx breathed against him. “I forgot about that. We were safe, Wyatt. I know we didn’t use a condom but we were monogamous and tested and all of that.”

He did not speak.

“Wyatt?” she asked. “You’re turning red, and there’s a vein in your neck that…I’m afraid you’re gonna pop something.”

Remember your training SEAL.

“Jun.” He said her name, her real name. He said it evenly, quietly, and with an edge of calm that he knew had set her on alert. He felt her stiffen behind him, felt the small draft of air against his backside as she stepped away. He turned, and faced her.

“Jun,” he said again, and this time he took her face in his hands, gently cradled those soft cheeks in his palms. “I love you.”

“I know Wyatt. Thank y—”

“No.” He cut her off. “I’m saying it as a reminder to myself. Because right now, I want to fuck you in a way that a man in love does not fuck. I want to pretzel you on that sofa and drive into you like a fucking jackhammer on the Jersey turnpike.”

“Oh.”

“I want that.” Wyatt pointed at the screen. “Is that…” he stuttered over the words, didn’t know how to phrase what he was asking her, unsure if he even had a right to. “Is that—”

“Possible?” she finished the thought for him. “Without a condom?”

He nodded.

“Are you clean?” she said. “Recently tested and haven’t engaged in any risky sexual or drug related activity since that last testing?”

He frowned. “I don’t do drugs. And you’re the only woman I’ve had sex with since my last physical, and we used—”