Allure sirens pleasure c.., p.1
Allure (Sirens Pleasure Club Book 1), page 1
Copyright © 2023 by Nicole Banks/Verbal Seduction, LLC
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, organizations, events, and products are either a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Printed in the United States of America.
Editing by Rosemi Mederos
Formatting by: Champagne Formats
Cover Design by: Emma Rider at Moonstruck Cover Design & Photography
Photographer: Reggie Deanching
Model: Marie Reyes
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Title Page
Author’s Note
Dedication
Epigraph
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Epilogue
Author Information
This book is completely fictional.
There is a little praise, tiny bits of degradation, and some exhibition and voyeurism.
While not everyone has the same tastes, please go into this with an open mind and remember it’s fiction.
Also, remember THIS IS FICTION AND NOT A RESOURCE FOR EDUCATIONAL PURPOSES.
I am fully aware that some things might not work out the same in the real world and took creative liberty to fit the narration of the story.
If something you read has piqued your interest, please do your own research/talk to someone you trust who can guide you into whatever your interests are safely.
Content warning: While I wouldn’t classify this as a dark romance, there are minor dark elements, such as mental/emotional manipulation, the use of blackmail, off-page murder and assault, and one of the side characters dealing with some dark thoughts.
Let’s set the mood with the Allure playlist on Spotify.
To all the good girls embracing their journeys.
Don’t worry about the destination; just enjoy the ride.
How do you define your pleasure?
Is it in the touch of your lover’s hands?
Is it in the whispers of your lover’s lips
Against your sweat-slickened skin?
Is it in the anticipation
Of watching them touch themselves,
Imagining it’s you?
Or is it in the way
You crave more than one
To satisfy your hunger?
“you cannot burn away
what has always
been aflame.
—Nikita Gill, “Witch” from Wild Embers
Syra sat in a large conference room with big windows that allowed an abundance of natural light to brighten the place. The sun warmed her too-cool skin. Her nerves were making her antsy, and she could barely sit still in her seat. She looked around the room, trying to give her mind something to focus on. She took in the deep mahogany furniture. It filled the space with a welcoming masculine energy that she tried to lean into to keep her grounded. The conference room smelled of pine and wood, reminding her of the outdoors, and it made her feel less trapped and further eased her anxiousness.
Just breathe.
You, Delilah, and Katrina planned for this.
This meeting is just a formality for Garrison Inc to say yes.
Syra mentally repeated her mantra over and over again, knowing the more she felt it, believed it, the better her chances were that her and her two friends would walk out of here owners to one of the empty buildings on Bleecker—well, not official owners yet. They were leasing the place out with the option to buy later down the line, but there was no question in Syra’s mind that she and her friends would own the building eventually. Once the remodeling was done and they opened the doors, Sirens Pleasure Club would be a success and a new staple in Lockwood.
Sirens would be the only pleasure club in the area, and it would be the only female-owned business in Lockwood to boot. Sirens would cater to everyone with certain kinks and to those looking to explore a sex life outside of their bedrooms and their partners safely. Syra watched her friend, Raven Wright, do it in Ivywood with Lush, and she believed she and her friends could have the same success here.
And hopefully this will help find your way back to yourself and back to your art.
Syra glanced down at her hands, wondering if her gifts would ever come back to her. She used to be a highly in demand and successful artist. Her paintings ranged from the abstract to erotic self-portraits, but she hadn’t been able to put anything on a canvas in what seemed like forever. Her hands couldn’t connect with her mind or with her heart. There was a blockage she couldn’t move past or figure out how to dissolve no matter what tricks of the trade she looked up for artistic blocks. Every time she stared at a blank canvas, frustration and sadness seeped into her bones and she felt like a fraud.
Had her art deserted her?
Had she only been allowed her fifteen minutes of fame? Was that time in her life a fluke?
Was it nothing more than a moment in time she would never get back?
You painted six months ago.
The thought made the back of her neck heat, remembering exactly what sparked the need to put something on paper in the first place—a multitude of orgasms from the last man she’d ever thought she’d see again.
Six months ago, Syra, Delilah, and Katrina had gone out to a club in celebration of Kat getting a new job. The energy had been so potent it teased Syra’s senses—whispering a chaos that demanded attention. She felt that same allure to peek behind the chaos she always had when she painted. It was the taunt to let the emotions and energy she felt inside of her take over and bleed out of her.
She thought that first hit was the little breadcrumb she needed to find her way back to her art, but what she found instead was a man she had never expected to see again.
Marco Cabrera.
The man had swept her off her feet six months ago. His gruff voice and demanding touch had brought her to so many climaxes she couldn’t keep count. She had expected nothing less from him; their history had shown how good they were together. They had spent three years together, and in those three years they had great sex, explorations, a lot of laughs, and a connection that still made her heart beat like a stampede.
Her hand flew to her heart, willing the damn thing to calm down. Even thinking about him had sent it into a tailspin. If she closed her eyes, she could practically still feel his touch against her skin, hear his whispered praise, and see the longing in his eyes that told her he wanted more than she’d been willing to give. They’d spent all their time together, wrapped up in each other until she left him for her ex, Joel Hernandez.
“You knew what this was, Marco. I never came to you asking for more when I knew I couldn’t give it to you.” Syra’s voice broke, hating that she was hurting them both. “I’m sorry, but you always knew there was someone else.”
She felt sick, watching him regard her like some stranger as the words spilled out of her mouth. She had seen the hurt fill his features, but he didn’t utter any words, put up a fight, or try to change her mind. He just watched her walk away, and the farther she got from him, the more she could feel his anger toward her deepen.
Syra never expected to run into him again after she left him, but six months ago they stumbled into each other at the club. While a normal person would have avoided him—especially when she could still feel his anger and see it come to life behind his green eyes—she found herself in his orbit as if he pulled her in himself.
“You good?” Kat’s soft voice made her shift in her seat. “You look a little flushed.”
Syra brought her hand to her neck, almost wishing her nerves had come back to cool her overheated skin. Her mind and body were trapped in the night she spent with Marco. He was still a man who possessed and knew her body and mind better than she did some days.
One touch of Marco’s lips on her skin along with his well-placed whispers and heated gaze brought the fire he started inside of her to a raging inferno. There had also been the added audience of Marco’s neighbor. He sat on his living room couch one building over with his own cock in his hand watching the way Marco touched her, and it heightened the experience for her. She had liked watching his neighbor just as much as she liked feeling his eyes on her when Marco was touching her.
Syra waved a hand in front of her, trying to clear her thoughts of the images that were torturing her. Though she could feel her body opening up, her thong was wet and her pussy throbbed as if Marco was in the room with her, taunting her still.
As soon as she got home, she spent the entire day drawing Marco from memories they shared in her past. She drew both of them on the blank canvas, trying to recreate the passion and fire that night had invoked in her. It was the first drawing she’d done since she stopped painting and stopped taking commissions for Raven and her friends.
Syra’s hands twitched at the memory of what felt like a rebirth. The creative block had finally disappeared and she was on to her next cycle of her artistic expression, but one well-timed argument from her ex-husband, Joel, and it shriveled up and died like it had never come back to life in the first place. If not for a canvas she kept rolled up and hidden in a box of things that were too painful for her to look at, she would have thought that painting had been a fever dream.
Syra didn’t like to place blame on anyone, but in the last six months she often wondered what her art would have looked like if not for her ex-husband killing pieces of her.
He’d be an ex-husband if he ever signs the damn divorce papers.
Syra’s fingers drummed against the table, trying to keep her focus. She wanted to be sharp for this meeting. Thinking about either ex wouldn’t do her any good.
“You want to switch places? Or I can go out and ask the receptionist for a bottle of water.” Kat pushed her seat back, but Syra stopped her with a shake of her head. Mr. Garrison and Mr. Jones would be here soon, and she didn’t want anything to stall the meeting.
“Don’t worry about it, Kat.” Syra’s gaze glanced at the clock. “They’re actually late.” Her voice cracked and she scrunched her face, annoyed that her nerves decided to come back at this very moment.
She was a mess. Her mind ping-ponging between one ex and the other and all the ways this meeting could possibly go wrong. She hoped the owners of Garrison Inc didn’t bring them here just to shut them down; an email would have sufficed for that.
“And you’re nervous,” Delilah commented. “They’re not late. We were early.”
Syra glanced at the clock on the wall, noticing the time. Delilah was right. They weren’t late, but wasn’t there some unwritten rule that said if you were on time you were already late?
“I’m not nervous,” Syra lied through her teeth, and when she saw Delilah’s eyes narrow, she knew her old friend didn’t believe her.
“I’m just anxious,” Syra amended. She felt her phone vibrating in her purse, and she flinched, already knowing who it was. She mentally cursed herself for not putting the thing on silent or shutting it off. It was bad enough she could feel the envelope she had in her purse with her name on it in Joel’s handwriting; she hadn’t opened it, unsure of what she’d find. He hadn’t stopped calling or texting her for the past month, and the messages he left weren’t kind.
The more she ignored him, the more aggressive his messages became, and it had gotten to the point she wondered if she needed to tell not only her lawyer but law enforcement as well. She didn’t think he’d outright hurt her. In fact, Syra assumed they were just his way of blowing off steam since he now understood that she wasn’t coming back this time.
“Is Joel still bothering you?” Delilah asked.
Syra shook her head only for Delilah to question her again. Katrina placed her hand over Syra’s nervous tapping. Her touch was gentle and meant to comfort, but Syra wanted none of it. This wasn’t the place to bring up exes who were supposed to be yesterday’s problems. They didn’t need to bring that negative energy into what should be a lucrative business deal.
“Let’s not focus on Joel right now. He’s a piece of paper away from being out of my life for good.” She hoped. “We have everything set up and ready for them?” Syra pulled her hand away from Katrina’s and grabbed hold of the folder in front of her. She tried to shift the conversation away from her ex and on to what was in front of her.
Delilah sucked her teeth before she responded. “Nice dodge, and yes, we have everything. They’ve seen everything. This is just a formality to go over any last-minute questions either of us has and for them to either say yes or no.”
As soon as Delilah finished her sentence, the door to the conference room opened and in came Evelyn Beck, the receptionist Syra met when she first came in. She had her tablet tucked under her arm and a bright smile on her face as she greeted them again.
Syra tried to smile back, but her jaw hit the conference table as she stared at the two men who came in behind Evelyn.
“No way,” Syra mumbled under her breath.
She was afraid to blink, unsure if they were really standing in the entrance way of the conference room or if her brain had conjured them up from her lustful memory while she was sitting here. She couldn’t breathe and couldn’t get her mind to wrap around who she saw waltzing into the room like they owned the world.
They were dressed in sharp, dark gray suits tailored to fit their bodies—bodies Syra had seen and been intimately acquainted with. She tried to block out the images her mind was all too happy to put on repeat. They were from that one night months ago where she gave her body over to Marco Cabrera while his neighbor, Asli, watched from his home in the next building over.
Syra’s body flushed as the temperature in the room skyrocketed to an uncomfortable level. She squirmed in her seat trying and failing to get comfortable. Her mouth was dry, and she suddenly wished she hadn’t declined the offer of water because she needed it for no other reason than to cool her overheated skin.
Asli and Marco both took all the air out of the room, and she couldn’t breathe in anything that wasn’t them. Their eyes roamed over her body, peeling away the suit jacket she wore to expose her skin to their touch. The knowing smiles that teased their lips made her core throb, and she curled her hand around the arm of the chair to keep herself from shifting her hips.
Are you shitting me? Of all the places to run into them again.
She could hear her heartbeat in the otherwise quiet room, and she wanted the floor to open up and swallow her whole. Out of all the situations she thought she would find herself in, she hadn’t anticipated trying to close a deal with an ex who she recently fucked and the man who had a front row seat to said fucking.
“I think Asli wants to see you cum, Syra. His gaze keeps bouncing between where the dildo is disappearing inside of you and the back of your head where he can tell I’m fucking this sweet mouth of yours.”
“Good morning, Ms. Santiago, Ms. Lopez, and Ms.—” Marco’s voice was gruff and raspy like he’d just rolled out of bed.
Why hasn’t the floor opened to swallow me yet?
She tried to steady her breathing as she watched both her friends rise to shake Marco’s and Asli’s hands. She wanted to call her friends traitors, but she didn’t think they picked up on who they were meeting with yet.
Syra remained in her seat. She didn’t trust her legs to keep her standing, and she was still processing her shock and the spark of anger she now felt while she stared at them.
What were the chances Marco had known about this little business venture before they ran into each other six months ago? He had to have known she was in this with Katrina and Delilah, her name was on all the paperwork and plans. As common as her last name was, her first name was not. He had to have known who he’d be dealing with today.
Had that night six months ago been a chance meeting, or had he planned it all as some sort of revenge for leaving him?
And if it had been planned, what does that mean for you and Marco?
Once Syra’s heart stopped beating like a stampede, she tightened her grip on the arm of the chair as she stood. She plastered a polite smile on her face, “It’s Ms. Gutierrez, and you are?” She asked the question of Asli as she took his warm and big hand in hers.
“Mr. Jones, Asli Jones.” His smile was filled with a wicked promise as his gaze took her in from head to toe. Syra had to wonder if he was picturing her without the pantsuit because she sure as shit was imagining what that night would have turned into had Marco let Asli into his home instead of letting him watch from across the way.
