Title: The Club (The Club Series Book #1)
Author: Lauren Rowe
When playboy businessman Jonas Faraday receives a private note from the anonymous intake agent assigned to process his online application to an exclusive sex club, he becomes obsessed with finding her and giving her the sexual satisfaction she claims has always eluded her, in order to fulfill his own desperate need for redemption.
Sarah : When I read Jonas Faraday’s brutally honest personal message on his application to The Club, I practically climaxed at my desk. I’m an idiot to risk losing my job but I couldn’t resist contacting him. I knew my confession would be like dangling an irresistible carrot in front of his nose—but never in a million years did I think he’d actually hunt me down.
Jonas : I was shocked to get my intake agent’s email—I’d attached that note to my application on a whim, never expecting a reply from an actual person, let alone a reply as mind blowing as that. Her message was so alluring, so irresistible, I’ve been spiraling into a full-blown obsession ever since I got it. What’s her name? What does she look like? Finding her is my top priority.
In The Club , what starts out as an innocent exploration of sexual attraction quickly spirals into a steamy story of unbridled passion, obsession, heartbreak, and, ultimately, redemption.
- The Reclamation (The Club Series Book #2)
- The Redemption (The Club Series Book #3) (coming February 9, 2015)
- White Lies — Rx Bandits
- Pony — Far
- Melt With You — Modern English
- Lick It Before You Stick It —Denise La Salle
- I Just Want To Make Love To You — Muddy Waters
- I Want You — Bob Dylan
- Do I Wanna Know — Arctic Monkeys
- Locked Out of Heaven —Bruno Mars
- Madness — Muse
- Closer —Nine Inch Nails
“Haven’t you researched me?”
Her mouth twists. “For hours and hours.”
“Well, then, you already know the basics. Which means you’ve got a distinct advantage over me. It’s only fair we talk about you for a while.” I take a bite of the new appetizer. Again, the food is delicious.
“You want to know about my ‘passions and hobbies and my beloved Maltese Kiki’?” She takes a long sip of her wine.
“Ah, but you see, I happen to know—unlike any other girl who’d otherwise be sitting here right now under any other circumstance—that you don’t give a crap about my precious Kiki—not even about her new rhinestone jacket and tutu—because the only thing you’re thinking about is getting down and dirty in the bathroom.”
I sigh. “You’re misquoting me. I never said I don’t give a crap about your precious Kiki.”
“Well, okay—you didn’t say you don’t give a crap about her, which is good, because she’s the apple of my eye—what you said is that when you ask a woman about herself you’re actually thinking the whole time that you just want to get down and dirty in the bathroom. Of course, you didn’t use the words ‘get down and dirty’—you used your all-time favorite word—but this is the nicest restaurant I’ve ever been to in my whole life and I’m trying to act like a fancy lady.”
I rub my eyes. “Oh my God, this is so fucked up,” I mutter.
She nods and picks up her wine goblet. “Hey, your words, not mine.” She takes a dainty sip.
To my surprise, I laugh. Not too many people can make me laugh—especially not at myself. I lean back in my chair. “Actually, I want to know all about you—even about your Maltese Kiki, if you happen to have one. Surprising, but true.”
“Let’s not go overboard. No one wants to hear about anyone’s Maltese named Kiki.”
I laugh again. God, I want to take that green dress off her and touch every square inch of her.
“So let me see if I understand this situation correctly. You want to know about my hopes and dreams and passions (and my imaginary Maltese Kiki), and you emphatically don’t want to get down and dirty with me in the bathroom?” Her eyes are suddenly on fire as she picks up her wine glass again.
Oh, wow, my dick is at full attention. I can’t formulate a verbal response. My heart’s clanging in my chest. I bite my lip. Oh shit, suddenly, that’s all I want to do right now—fuck her in the bathroom. But that’s exactly what I absolutely cannot do if we’re going to get off on the right foot here.
When I don’t speak, she grins. “Oh, yes. Your brilliant strategy.” She leans forward. “Well guess what? I don’t want strategic Jonas. I want honest Jonas.” She licks her lips. “I like My Brutally Honest Mr. Faraday.” She smiles slyly. “A lot.”
I’m so turned on right now, I can’t think straight. I lean forward, too. I whisper, “Yes, I want to fuck you—more than anything. But not tonight. And not in the fucking bathroom. Because fucking you in the bathroom would be no different than what we did on the phone yesterday—and I promised myself I’m not going to do that to you again no matter what. When I finally do fuck you, Sarah—and, believe me, fucking you is the highest priority in my entire life right now—I’m going to do it right so that we both experience something we’ve never felt before.” My erection strains inside my pants. “We’re going to wait and do it nice and slow and right—and it’ll be worth the wait, I promise.” My brain is quite certain of this entire speech, even if my hard-on begs to differ.
Her eyes are flickering, and I can’t tell if that’s because of the candlelight, or because of something heating up inside her. “So that’s your strategy? A slow burn? Making me wait? Making it worth the wait?”
My nostrils are flaring. “In a nutshell.” I can’t read her expression. “What are you thinking right now?” I ask.
She takes a bite of food, and then a long sip of wine, making me wait. “Two things. First, that I really, really like it when you’re honest.” She grins.
“And second, that your precious strategy is about to get blown to bits.
About the Author:
Lauren Rowe is the pen name of an author and singer-songwriter who decided to use an alter ego in writing THE CLUB TRILOGY to ensure she didn’t hold back in writing the story. (And she didn’t.) Lauren lives in San Diego, California where she performs with her band, writes, and hangs out with her family and friends.
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