“Is everything okay, Declan?” she questions in a whisper.
That deep, low groan is silent this time, and it travels lower, to my hardening cock. That’s better, my little pet.
Smirking, I lift the whiskey glass to my lips, sipping before I nod and ask her how her night is going.
“It’s something else,” she answers, swallowing hard and I don’t miss how her gaze drops to my lips before she tears it away, the applause of the audience drawing her attention to the stage.
She’s quick to bring her attention back to Mia, who hasn’t yet touched Braelynn’s slip.
I offer up an observation, testing the tension between us. “Tonight’s entertainment is one of the more popular shows.”
One look down, and it’s evident her nipples are hard. Were they like that when she walked up here? The thin lace can’t hide her desire.
She’s quiet, only nodding at my commentary. “Are you curious?” I ask her.
Her dark eyes meet mine and this time there’s fire. The flames of it consume the oxygen around us. Fuck. What that look does to me is positively sinful. The heated stare doesn’t deny the pull between us. I could get lost in that gaze of hers and abandon the boundaries we’re toying with altogether. She hesitates at my question, but settles on one of her own. “Curious or scandalized?”
“If that scandalizes you,” I start, lifting my drink to the stage, “you may want to reconsider your employment here.” It’s meant as a joke of sorts, or perhaps a warning but as she glances back at the stage, without her expression easily seen, my body heats with an anxiousness that she could leave. She could so easily walk out of those doors and never come back.
The cords in my neck tighten, but then surprise takes hold of me at her response. “Is that what you like?” she asks in a soft murmur.
Depraved thoughts filter into my mind.
The ice clinks in my glass as I face her and say, “What did you ask?” My tone is deathly low as the background music continues to play, the whip cracks and Braelynn’s eyes close, her shoulders shuddering as if the tanned leather strips had stuck against her flesh. I can imagine how her olive skin would brighten, how the rush of fresh blood would be pulled to the surface. How sensitive she’d feel on every inch I played with.
She stares back at me, seemingly unaffected as I imagine her plump lips parted with a strangled cry of pleasure. “Is that what you like?” she asks again, quieter this time, tilting her head in the direction of the stage.
The woman on the stage is wrapped tightly in rope and at Braelynn’s question, my eyes easily undress her, imagining her gorgeous tan skin decorated in black satin binds.
“If it crosses a line—”
Rather than answer her, I ask my own question. “Do you like the idea of being bound?”
“I wouldn’t know,” she answers and then glances past me, checking on Mia and the state of the drinks I imagine she’s waiting on.
“Do you think you’d like to give up control, to be a fuck toy to whatever a man like me would want?” I question her, expecting the phrase fuck toy to throw her off. To send her back to the other side of The Club.
It doesn’t, though. Her body tenses slightly, her thighs subtly clenching. My grip tightens on the glass as my throat dries. She seems to ponder it and my cock gets impossibly hard. Pulling her bottom lip into her mouth with her teeth, she hums softly before looking back up at me.
Tease. She’s nothing but fate’s temptation for me.
“Would you want to do it in front of others … on a stage like them?” she asks and the world pauses around us. Not a sound can be heard. It all blurs as I peer down at her, curiosity evident but so damn innocent.
She has no idea how I’d love to shove my cock down her throat, her hands bound behind her back, that black dress ripped down the front. If I could have her on her knees, struggling to catch her breath as her mascara ran down her face and her eyes brimmed with tears … I would have her every fucking day just like that.
Every instinct in me wants to drag her back to my office and show her exactly what I’d do to her. If she were my pet, mine to toy with. Mine to do whatever I desire.
“Would you?”
“I don’t know … I guess,” she answers as I stand impossibly still, not trusting myself. The reminder that she could be undercover and playing me screams in my head. Screams at me that if I wanted, she’d let me, that she’d do it just to get closer to me.
This beautiful, innocent woman would allow me to do every sordid thing I’ve ever wanted.