Carter Brothers: Adrian (Rated R Novel)

Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Sam froze. Not just her body but her mind too. All she can focus on are those two piercing orbs of electric blue stare straight into her. She felt like a naive little bunny gazing wide in shock at bright blank headlights. Were she some ‘fierce’ chick on a film, she probably would have grabbed the conveniently placed hot guy next to her; French kissed him in slow motion and then stuck her middle finger up at her ‘mate’. Unfortunately for Sam she can’t even force herself to snap out of his trance to move her arms let alone grab some dude. Sam can feel her heart pound louder and louder as the seconds seem to drag into minutes.

Finally, by some miraculous force of nature, her eyes draw away from his and briefly flicker elsewhere-this being right next to him. Once again, her mind freezes. Her eyes instinctively zone in on his lightly placed hand at the lower back of some slim, pretty red-head. Anger rushes through Sam, not because it’s he’s her mate. But because he claimed to be the one interested in her-the one harassing her with random phone calls (okay, one, but still), he’s the one all into the whole ‘soul-mate’ business and then he dares to be playing around with other women?! Sam can’t believe him.
But she reminds herself that he is a male. Of course, he wouldn’t be serious about all this mate bullshit, of course he’d play around, he is after all just another guy dick and Sam should have expected this. After all, only dicks seem to take an interest in her. Well, no more, argues Sam. This time, she won’t give into some guy claiming her to be ‘the one’. She is so through with all that crap.

“Sammie? Earth to Sam! Earth to Sam! Come in Sam-”
“Cut it out Hanna,” Sam snaps irritated.
“Woah, okay, sorry. Jeez, who put a stick up your ass?” mutters Hanna, dejectedly. She wonders what’s got Sam all worked up. Just a few minutes ago, when they’d been having drinks, Sam had been her true self. The wonderful, fun, giggly woman. Not the workaholic, uptight bitch she usually is.
Sam shakes her head and glances at Hanna apologetically.
“Sorry, Han...I just...It’s nothing. What’s up? I think I’m going to take a break, all this dancing is tiring me out,” smiles Sam trying to ignore the laser gaze still focused on her.
“Okay, well that’s good, because...I think we should hit up another club,” grins Hanna, walking with Sam back to the bar of the club.
“Sure, which one?” asks Sam with a shrug.
“Um...a special one,” wickedly smirks Hanna and just from that devious smile, Sam knows that night has only just begun.

“No,” she flatly refuses.

“Aw, come on Sam! Please?! Look it’s kinda incredible I’ve managed to score these two guest passes and I can’t just let it go to waste-see! The expiry date’s nearly up!-”
“Take someone else with you. I am not-let me repeat this, NOT- going in there-”
“But Sam! Please? No one else will go with me! Please? Please, Sam, for me?”
“Hanna...” mutters Sam, eyebrows scrunching in nervousness as she finds her resolve dissolving from her friend’s pleading.
“Come on Sammie. Live on the wild side for once,” continues Hanna encouraging Sam.
“...Ugh! Fine! I so hate you!” sighs Sam rolling her eyes and slumping her shoulders in defeat. She never can refuse those she loves. 
“Yay! And you know, after this, you’ll love me forever!” cries Hanna with enthusiasm, grasping Sam’s bicep and all but dragging her into the club.
“I doubt it,” mumbles Sam under her breath as she glares at the sign proclaiming ‘Carter BDSM Club’, while she gets pulled through the doors by her supposed friend.


“Have you ladies read the rules and agreement policy we have?” asks the receptionist, who brings forth a booklet and two forms for them to sign.
Just as Sam goes to say ‘no’ and meticulously scan the document, Hanna cuts in with a chirpy ‘yes’.
Hanna snatches a pen from the table and signs her name with a flourish; Sam on the other hand, eyes the signature hesitantly. Like with anything, signing up for something without understanding it, always ends in disaster, and Sam has a feeling that this is one of those occasions where she should really read the damn policy.
“Sam...it’s fine,” hisses Hanna under her breath with a jab of her elbow into Sam’s side. Although unsure, with a sigh Sam picks up the pen and signs along the dotted line.
“Great! Well, here are your guest collars, and enjoy yourselves tonight. Entertainment starts at midnight but I’m sure, you’ll both have your partners by then,” smiles the woman placing two velvet black collars, embroidered with ‘guest’ on them.
Hanna picks one up in glee and as if it’s a golden necklace, she carefully fastens it around her neck and beams with joy. Sam eyes her wearily and then frowns. How humiliating. Wearing a collar? No thanks.
“Sammie stop being such a baby, just put it on.”
“No, this is ridiculous. You can’t seriously expect me to wear a collar can you?” spits Sam in disgust. She’s not some fucking pet to be collared and neutered.
“Sam, quit it. If you don’t put it on you’ll get kicked out,” argues back Hanna.
Sam’s eyes light up at that only to have Hanna narrow her eyes and point at the collar on the table. Grudgingly Sam picks up the soft ornament and unbuckles it. Wrapping it around her neck, she fastens it just so it fits snugly and as strange as it seems, she realises with a start that she quite enjoys having to wear it. There’s just something so possessive and submissive about it, that Sam can hardly remember why she was complaining wearing it in the first place.
Thankfully, Hanna doesn’t notice Sam’s mini-revelation and instead bubbles with enthusiasm.
“Thank you! Now let’s go!”

Sam’s not sure what she’d been expecting; probably some dingy, darkened, shady room with some old fat men in sipping whiskey with young, scantily dressed women grinding on their laps. It certainly hadn’t been the lively atmosphere that she was met with. The lighting although fairly low didn’t make the place seem dingy at all. There were several podiums dotted around the outskirts that had long, shiny poles on, with spotlights on some of the dancers. A stage goes across one side, low enough to easily step onto but prominent enough to be noticed. Plush couches and arm chairs are also strategically dotted around, with many of them occupied by both men and women alike. Some are sipping drinks, while others chat quietly. Almost all of them however, has someone either in their lap or sat on the floor bedside their feet. These people, Sam notes with surprise, are barely dressed and have collars similar to the one she has to wear around their necks, expect theirs are a burgundy shade and seems to have something else written across them.