Chapter 22

Michael

"Care for a private viewing?" I suggested, guiding her toward a corridor marked with a silver crescent symbol—the area reserved for observation rooms.

We entered a premium viewing room, its dim lighting strategically cast in silvery-blue hues, bathing the space in a sensual glow. A massive one-way mirror dominated one wall, offering a clear view of the adjacent room, currently empty but prepped for the upcoming demonstration.

The observation room itself was luxuriously appointed, with black leather sofas positioned for optimal viewing. Along one wall stood a discreet cabinet displaying an array of tools—whips, restraints, and other toys that might be used in the demo.

Isabella's eyes widened as she took in the room, her gaze lingering on the toy display. The scent of her desire grew stronger, confirming my suspicions—she was more than just mildly intrigued by such activities.

I deliberately arranged our seating, leaving only a small space for Isabella between Richard and me. As she sat, I felt Richard's tension mirror my own—we were both wound tight.

I knew Richard wanted the same thing I did—my cock was already painfully hard, straining against the thin denim. Fuck, just imagining her tight, wet pussy gripping me was enough to drive me wild, tempting me to explode right here.

"So, Richard," Isabella began, breaking the silence. "Are you the Richard Morgan I spoke to on the phone?"

"The very same," Richard confirmed, his amber eyes fixed on her face.

"Oh, well, thank you… thank you for giving me this opportunity," she said sincerely. "It means a lot to me."

"You don't need to thank me," Richard replied smoothly. "Just enjoy yourself."

"Oh, I definitely will," she assured him, then paused thoughtfully. "So, why do you have private viewing rooms? From what I've read, that's not common in werewolf clubs."

"Correct," Richard nodded, settling more comfortably into the sofa. "In my experience, those drawn to bondage and domination or submission often have more than one kink. We have many who enjoy watching—voyeurs—and others with exhibitionist tendencies, who get off on being seen or even just knowing they're watched. These kinks balance each other out, and I think catering to our members' desires is a smart business move. I also didn't want to follow the usual dungeon theme you'd find in other clubs around the city."

"Yeah, I can see it's working for you," Isabella replied. "When I looked up other clubs in the city, I couldn't find one offering even a fraction of what you provide here."

Her casual mention of researching other clubs sent a surge of possessiveness and anger through me. The thought of Isabella visiting some lowlife venue, approached by wolves who didn't appreciate her worth, made my canines itch to extend.

Fuck, if any lesser wolf dared get near her, I'd rip their throat out myself and show them what real Alpha rage tastes like.

From the corner of my eye, I noticed Kevin's posture stiffen slightly. He'd been silent since we entered the room. Was he displeased with the situation? Or, like me, was he struggling to control his instinctive reaction to Isabella's proximity?

What if Kevin isn't drawn to her? The thought gnawed at me, for reasons I couldn't fully articulate. Our shared bond with Isabella felt inevitable, fated—but if Kevin didn't feel the same pull…

My worries were interrupted as the lights in the adjacent room brightened, signaling the start of the demonstration. Isabella immediately sat up straighter, her attention captivated by the scene unfolding before us.

The room beyond the mirror was decorated in black and gold—a stark contrast to the silver-blue theme of the observation area. Various tools hung on the walls—whips, paddles, and other instruments of pleasure and pain. At the center stood a padded platform surrounded by an array of bondage accessories.

A female werewolf knelt on the floor, head bowed in perfect submission, awaiting her partner. Her posture was impeccable—back straight, knees precisely placed, palms resting upward on her thighs.

A male werewolf entered the room, his presence instantly commanding attention. Tall and muscular, he was clad entirely in black leather, emphasizing his dominant nature. He circled the kneeling woman silently, his gaze appraising.

"Stand. Choose," he finally commanded, gesturing to the tools on the wall.

She rose gracefully and moved to the display, her steps deliberate and rhythmic. After a moment's consideration, she selected a flogger made of suede and leather strips.

"Your clothes," the man said, his tone leaving no room for debate. "Remove them."

She obeyed without hesitation, deftly shedding her dress before slipping off her bra and panties with practiced ease. Her body was beautiful—curves in all the right places, skin glowing flawlessly under the lights. My eyes were involuntarily drawn to her full breasts and the glistening wetness between her thighs before quickly shifting back to her face.

She was stunning, but damn, she paled in comparison to Isabella.

"Get on the platform," he ordered, pointing to the padded structure in the room's center.

She complied but hesitated slightly before positioning herself, a subtle defiance that didn't go unnoticed. The man's eyes narrowed, and he swiftly delivered a sharp flick of the flogger across her ass—not hard enough to truly hurt, but enough to convey his displeasure.

"Why are you being punished?" he asked, his voice stern but not cruel.

"Because I didn't obey you, sir," she replied, her voice quickening with anticipation.

The demonstration continued, its intensity steadily building. Each stroke of the flogger was followed by gentle caresses, a balance of pain and pleasure evident in the woman's responses.

Her nipples grew harder with every lash, her clit visibly swollen, and we could even see the glint of arousal as the flogger lightly grazed her pussy.

"Please, sir! No more!" she cried out after a particularly sharp strike, her body trembling.

Beside me, Isabella shifted uncomfortably in her seat, her thighs pressing together in obvious arousal. The scent of her desire filled the small room, growing stronger with each passing moment. I could practically envision the wetness dripping from her thighs—just her scent alone was enough to make my cock throb painfully.

I placed a hand on her thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze to still her movements. "Quiet," I whispered, not as a request but a command.

She stilled instantly, her breathing quickening, but she complied with my instruction immediately. Her ease in following my command sent a wave of satisfaction through me.

Her response to my voice and touch was so perfect, like she was born to submit to me. I wanted to pin her against the wall right now, feel her dripping pussy clench around me as she begged for more.

Fuck, just picturing her lips wrapped around my cock, eyes wide as she looked up at me, waiting for permission to take my load down her throat, was enough to make me painfully hard.

Below is the English translation of the provided excerpt, preserving the sensual tone, vivid imagery, and emotional intensity of the original Chinese text. The translation uses natural and idiomatic English while maintaining the explicit and evocative language suited for an adult novel.

\---

The woman next door was crying out, begging for mercy, her voice growing more desperate by the second. But my mind was consumed with Isabella.

Her chest heaved beneath the sheer black top, her nipples pressing against the fabric, teasingly visible. Her pupils were dilated, dark as if they'd swallowed all light, and a flush burned across her pale cheeks, like a fire ignited by desire.

Each time the woman beyond the glass moaned or sobbed, Isabella's body responded in sync—a subtle tremor ran through her, her thighs clenching instinctively, her back arching ever so slightly.

Was she craving the same touch?