“I won’t fuck a girl because she’s paid for sex. Come back tomorrow night. You’ll be paid for the weekend by morning. Tomorrow is of your own free will, if you want to come back at all. My office, seven. Wear … something I can ruin.”
Her breath trembled against my lips as I spoke, my body arched over her smaller one, and she gave me her desire.
“Yes, Sir.”
I nodded, though she couldn’t see it, and brought my belt down.
Once, twice.
Right on her clit.
She screamed and twisted in her bonds as I set her body on fire with my pain, but her sweet little sigh was something else. Her body gave up all pretense of supporting her through our playtime. I took her weight in my arms as she came hard, unable to hold herself up.
Her body trembled all over as I kissed her throat, licking over her pulse. My wings strained within my human form, begging to erupt and take her like some biblical half-horror, crouched over the soul I would steal as payment.
I’d already given her mine.
The honeyed scent of her orgasm permeated my senses, overriding them with the pleasure I ripped from her body.
“You’re perfect.” I let out my own shuddering sigh and unwound her bonds before I did something stupid.
Like fuck her right there in my own damn club.
Chapter Four
Willow
Rafe Astor was a big softie. Who knew the king of his own shifter sex club could be such a wonderful cuddler? He untied me from my bonds, let my body slip into his waiting arms, and carried me through a small, darkened door set well into the far wall.
I’d looked around when I walked into the dungeon. My fear and panic skyrocketed when I’d discovered an empty room, a blindfold, and a note.
Strip.
I’d done as he bid—wasn’t that the game I agreed to play? The cavernous room hadn’t stayed empty for long. Cold, clammy hands had pinched my skin at every opportunity as ropes bound my wrists and stretched my limbs. My joints ached by the time Rafe arrived and turfed my playmate out of his dungeon.
Leaving the room that provided my introduction to Rafe’s sort of playtime gave me a different experience to entering it. His words unraveled in my head until they made no sense at all. He wanted to see me again, and something about pay … I shook my head. Everything became muddled in it.
My cheek pressed to the open collar of his shirt, so we were skin-to-skin in one tiny patch. Enough for me. I hummed against his warmth, snuggling deeper as he plopped into an oversized, over-stuffed pasha lounge and drew a thick throw around us.
He scooped a jar off a side table and coated his fingers in the stuff, then slipped them beneath the throw and between my legs.
I let out a little shriek at the kiss of the cool gel, but it warmed fast beneath the circular motions he made over my pussy. The sting I’d forgotten faded as he caressed me, themotion of caring for me after the fact somehow more intimate than the initial act.
“Better?” Long fingers caressed the nape of my neck and slid through my hair to massage my scalp.
I answered him with a groan he seemed to understand, holding me tighter. The leather and whiskey scent of him mixed with something wild heightened my sensation of swirling around him. He teased me, touched me, slapped me, and gave me an incredible orgasm that left me … well, here.
Unable to settle, I focused on the things around me. His arms, tight and muscle-bound, could have been constricting but weren’t. The scent of him, his warmth against my cheek. I turned my head, pressing my lips to his skin, then flicked out my tongue to taste him.
Rafe answered me with a groan of his own above my head. “If you do things like that, little kitten, all this time will be wasted and we’ll be back where we started.”
“Where was that?”
Him, towering over me. His breath kissed my lips when his mouth wouldn’t.
My thighs trembled in an effort to hold my body up and not collapse in front of him. For some reason, that mattered at the time. I needed to hold up under his assessment because failing him was worse than running from the club. Instinct kicked in, recognizing the predator in him, deadly and dangerous. The sort that devoured little fluffy shifters like me.
Provoking him might be the stupidest decision of my life. Rafe Astor had a wildness about him, exuding power and freedom. The sort that allowed him to do anything he wanted because he could.