Descent (Black Heart Romance presents Heaven & Hell)

well, made her feel safe with him when he brought her into the club and down to Hell—a place where
no one is guaranteed safety.
Hollis doesn’t answer her. Instead, he opens his briefcase and draws out an NDA and a pen. “I
need you to sign this before we go any further.”
Hallie frowns at the paper as he hands it to her. Her frown deepens as she scans the document,
then she looks back up at him. “Why?”
“Standard procedure.”
She only hesitates for a moment, then she hands the form back without touching the pen. “No.”
I like the sound of that word on her lips.
“What is this place?” Her gaze drifts around the room, briefly registering the other men before
landing on me. It’s unlikely she recognizes me since we didn’t speak at the office party, but there’s a
flicker in her gaze, almost like she does.
Hollis looks to me for direction, wanting to know if he should push the issue with the nondisclosure
agreement or let it go for the moment. I shake my head faintly so he backs off.
Hallie steps forward, looking around the dark interior of the room we’re in.
The Hell level of the night club has different rooms for different play, but the one I chose has a
dark, grungy aesthetic reminiscent of a castle dungeon. There are even shackles on the wall behind me
with an assortment of toys hung up beside them—perfect for chaining up your unwilling partner and
forcing any sensation you want on their vulnerable body.
I picture Hallie there, pulling on her chained wrists, bent over with her legs forced apart, her
lovely pussy on display for me to touch, taste, or fuck any way I please.
There’s a cage on the floor, too—not the kind women dance in on the upper levels, but the kind
you’d keep someone in if you wanted to treat them like an animal.
It’s not all cages and shackles, though. There’s a long black leather couch along the wall where
I’m sitting now. In the corner there’s a wooden chair placed at an angle—a contraption that looks
more like a medieval torture device than anything sexual, with leather straps for binding someone,
making them entirely helpless as you inflict any pleasures or horrors upon them you choose to.
Jackson is sitting on a red upholstered bench on the wall opposite me, his wild-eyed gaze
focused on Hallie.
I wonder if he’s having second thoughts.
Looks like he is.
He certainly should be.
Bastard.