Chapter 5

The air in the private room was thick, heavy with the scent of expensive tobacco, spilled whiskey, and the underlying, musky sweetness of our own arousal. Outside, the muffled bass of the jazz band thumped against the heavy velvet drapes, a rhythmic heartbeat that seemed to sync with the pounding in my chest. This speakeasy was a relic of another time, a hidden jewel tucked away beneath the city streets, where the world could be shut out and we could exist in a bubble of pure, unadulterated sin. The lighting was low, amber and dim, casting long, seductive shadows across the leather booths and the intricate wood paneling that lined the walls. He pulled me back into the deepest corner, away from the prying eyes of the few other patrons who knew where to find the entrance. The door clicked shut, the lock turning with a satisfying finality that made my skin prickle. He didn’t speak immediately. He just looked at me, his dark eyes devouring me, stripping away every layer of modesty I had left. I could feel his gaze physically on my skin, hot and possessive. "Good girl," he murmured, his voice a low rumble that vibrated in