by Mia Knight
She placed a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth. He leaned toward her, reflexively seeking more. She obliged while she stroked his cheek with a feather light touch that was worlds away from what he was used to getting from prostitutes. She ran kisses across his cheek, down his neck, and sucked delicately, laving his skin with her tongue. His pulse flickered beneath her tongue as his erection prodded her hip. She straightened and straddled his lap. He looked up at her, eyes cloudy with desire. He was in her thrall. Her dress was short enough that she didn’t have to pull it up as she planted her knees on either side of him and rode him nice and slow.
“You’re fucking beautiful. Always have been,” he said through gritted teeth.
She swiveled her hips. His head dropped back and he panted as if he was in pain. Seeing his insolent masquerade fade urged her onward. She did a reverse cowgirl on him. His arms wrapped around her waist, and he buried his face in her hair with a groan. She continued to move achingly slow. No less than fifteen men watched her with rapt attention. She placed her hands on Carter’s knees and rocked forward. She panted as if she was getting off on this. In reality, the lap dance was doing nothing for her. It was the dark lust emanating from the crowd of men who fed her inner demon. She made her eyes heavy lidded and let tendrils of hair drop over her face so she looked like she was in the throes of ecstasy. She opened her mouth obscenely wide as she rocked on her victim. Her eyes locked with Angel’s. She couldn’t read his expression, but that didn’t matter. All she cared about was that he was watching her. He wasn’t smiling anymore. He liked to play with his food in front of an audience? Two could play that game.
She leaned back against Carter’s chest and allowed his hands to move over her, tugging at her clothes and pawing at her breasts. She reached up and looped her arms around his neck as she ground against him. He groaned and shifted restlessly beneath her. One guard took a step forward before he caught himself, drawing Angel’s attention. The guard cleared his throat and looked away.
The music in the club built to a crescendo while she undulated her body, using every feminine wile she had picked up over the years. The Hispanic woman who sucked off the attorney general was curled up in a ball on the couch, forgotten. She allowed the men to use and wring her dry. Amateur move.
She spread Carter’s legs wide so she could brace her feet on the ground and swiveled her hips against his dick. Angel shifted. It was a small movement, but she knew what it meant. Mission accomplished. He was aroused. She kept up the charade until Carter had an arm banded around her waist and was basically trying to fuck her through his clothes.
“How much do you want?” he growled in her ear.
“What?”
“How much do I have to pay to fuck you?”
“You can’t afford me,” she whispered before she tapped his arm to be released.
“What do you want?”
“I’m sure you can find someone to finish you.” She looked up and gave him an arched eyebrow. “Let me go.”
His eyes narrowed, but something over the top of her head caught his attention and he released her instantly. She smoothed her dress down and calmly walked toward Mickey who had beads of sweat on his forehead. She grabbed her clutch and raised a brow, completely ignoring the wall of guards staring at her.
“Let’s go,” she said.
For a moment, no one moved and then Mickey stepped aside to make a path through the motionless men. They gave way reluctantly. She felt hands brush against her as she passed. Mickey led her away from Angel’s alcove. The other VIPs weren’t nearly as risqué as Angel. He made the rappers look like old women knitting.
“What was that?” Frederick growled.
“What?”
“You’re fucking with him.” Frederick sounded pissed.
She glanced at him. “So?”
“You don’t fuck with men like him, especially in front of his men.”
“Angel didn’t do anything.”
“He will. Later.”
“Don’t be dramatic.”
Angel taunted her by bending that woman to his will in front of her. It was his way of showing her what he could do to her if she submitted to him. She slammed his offer back in his face by showing him he wasn’t the only player in the room. She wasn’t a toy. She was a woman, one who would spit in his face if he tried shit like that on her. Being objectified like that in front of other men to be used and discarded wasn’t something she would sink low enough to participate in.
“There’s Fletcher.” Mickey sounded relieved.
She followed his gaze and spotted Marcus talking to Bridgette Mackee, who was now married to an A list actor. She had definitely come up in the world since her days of seeking out publicity. Bridgette noticed her and waved. Marcus turned and scanned her appreciatively. She did air kisses with Bridgette and shook her husband’s hand before she stopped beside Marcus.
Marcus nodded to the couple. “Have a great night.”
He took her hand and led her from the fourth tier and paused on the third. He pulled her against him and leaned in close.
“I have two people to talk to and then we can go,” he said.
Classy sin teased her senses. His presence made that tight, destructive ball in her chest ease. He had a numbing effect on her pain. It didn’t cure her, but it was something. She followed him into the fray. He talked to a bunch of politicians and lawyers and introduced her while he kept their hands clasped. She spoke when she needed to and even managed a smile although she couldn’t hold it long with her insides so mangled and heavy.
That lascivious scene with Angel fed her dark cravings. She couldn’t deny that it gave her a degree of satisfaction to arouse Carter, Angel, and the other men, but… now what? Depraved, erotic needs swamped her. Involuntarily, she squeezed Marcus’s hand. He squeezed back and shot her a reassuring smile. She focused on his smooth, polished voice. He was good at what he did—making everyone feel welcome and important, extracting information, offering future services, and solidifying their relationship with personal tidbits. Marcus was a natural. Vinny worked hard to maintain that level of poise. Vinny… She forced her mind away from that dangerous path and took in Marcus’s thick eyelashes she would have stolen if she could. He was freshly shaved and well-groomed, as usual. Being on the arm of another COO, it should have felt like deja vu, but it didn’t. Marcus was definitely his own person, and she wasn’t the carefree, vivacious woman who once graced Vinny’s arm. She felt like a shadow of the woman she used to be, a stitched together version that could fall apart at any moment.
He wrapped his arm around her waist. “Let’s get out of here.”
Frederick made a way through the main floor with Mickey following behind. Marcus paused to talk to the nightclub manager before they reached the casino.
“You look amazing,” he said as he led her to the elevator.
She raised a brow. “You like my badass bitch look?”
“Bitch?” he echoed as he swiped a key card and pressed the highest floor. “You may be a badass, but you’re not a bitch.”
She glanced at Frederick and Mickey who gave them a modicum of privacy by standing in front of them. What she’d done to Carter was a bitch move—arouse, taunt, desert.
“I am a bitch.”
“You won’t convince me of that,” Marcus said.
He leaned against the wall of the elevator in a charcoal gray suit with a navy-blue handkerchief in the pocket. He was effortlessly stylish and handsome and a sight for sore eyes. He was relaxed and amused and worlds away from what she experienced with Angel ten minutes ago. He was smiling and happy while she felt wanton and vicious. Angel guessed what was going on with her at a glance because he was experiencing it himself. He could control and exploit a woman to get off, but what the hell was she going to do? She was on the verge of another bender as Marcus called it. Three steps forward, six back. She was good for a couple of days before something dragged her back to square one. She instinctively called Marcus. She hop
ed he could help her because she had no plan B.
“Do you have a thing for dangerous women?” she asked
He cocked his head to the side. “Dangerous?”
“I’m armed.”
He shrugged. “So am I.”
He was dismissing her claims, as usual. She wasn’t sure if that irritated or charmed her. He refused to see how fucked up and crazy she was. A part of her hated that she wanted to be the woman he thought she was. Well, she couldn’t say she hadn’t warned him.
The elevator opened to reveal a short hallway that led to two imposing doors. Marcus turned to Frederick and Mickey.
“No one can reach this floor without a key card. I’ll take care of her. Take a break.”
Frederick and Mickey looked at her for confirmation, and she nodded.
“You’re staying in the penthouse?” she asked.
“No, but since you were coming, I thought we could enjoy the view.”
Marcus swiped his key in the door. The sound of running water tickled her ears as she entered. There was a five-foot-tall lion fountain to the left of the door. Its mane was perpetually slick from the water cascading down it’s back and tapping pleasantly in the pool it stood in. A wall of unbroken glass showed The Strip in all its glory. The bright colors bounced off the gleaming black floor. There was a full-size kitchen to the left and a massive living area that could easily sit up to fifteen people. On the long black dining table was a bucket of ice with two bottles of wine and several covered trays.
“What’s this?” she asked.
“Thought you might be hungry.”
“It’s midnight.”
“So? Are you hungry?”
She was a lot of things, but she wasn’t sure if hungry was one of them. She watched him uncover the trays to reveal rows of tiny, elegant appetizers.
“I told you I was coming an hour ago. How did you put this together so quickly?”
He raised a brow. “This is Pyre Casinos, babe. We’re ready for anything.”
He opened a white wine with a French label as she walked toward the wall of glass. The huge balcony along two sides of the penthouse was everything. There was a full-size Jacuzzi, lounge chairs, and a covered cabana along with an untended bar. The penthouse was definitely made for entertaining.
“Here.”
She accepted the glass of wine. “Thanks.”
She let the chilled wine wash away the bitter taste on her tongue. Marcus watched her intently, gauging her mood. How much did he see?
“I’m glad you came tonight.” He swirled the wine in his glass. “You’re wearing your armor tonight.”
Her heart skipped a beat. “What are you talking about?”
“You look hard, untouchable. You use clothes the same way I do—to make a statement.” He grasped her free hand and carried it to his mouth. He kissed the inside of her wrist. “You may think you’re a badass bitch, but I know your secret.”
She tensed. “Secret?”
“You’re soft.” He unfurled her hand and kissed her fingertips. “Delicate. You champion those who need it. Lyla, Honey, Alice… What war are you fighting tonight?”
An internal one she was losing. Angel enhanced her carnal hunger into debauched desires that chased through her mind. Marcus’s gentleness made her feel like a depraved pervert.
He cupped her chin. “Tell me what you need.”
The hand holding her wine glass trembled as she tried to gather her skittering thoughts. If Angel hadn’t publicly humiliated that woman, he would have been the perfect candidate to help her out tonight. Angel was right. Vinny’s death changed her. She’d always had a high sex drive, but now there was a dark edge to it—a craving she wasn’t comfortable with because it was new and unexplored. She was in the mood to be used, pushed to her limits, and wrung dry. She needed a man who wouldn’t use her dark needs against her. Was Marcus up to the challenge or was she about to destroy their tentative friendship by asking for too much?
21
“Carmen, tell me what you want.”
She drained the glass of wine before she took the plunge. “Do you have fantasies?”
“What?”
She tugged on his tie to reel him in. He came willingly and towered over her. His lips were close, but she knew it wouldn’t be enough. She cupped the back of his neck and ignored her heart which sped up as anxiety and lust mixed with alcohol and heated her blood.
“Fantasies, Marcus. Do you have any?”
Witnessing what Angel was capable of and what he dared made her hungry to be dominated. She was a strong, capable woman, but right now, she wanted someone else to call the shots and rule her life so she could take a break. Marcus watched her closely, probably trying to figure out where this was headed.
“You,” he said.
“What?”
“You’re my fantasy.”
“Me doing what?”
“Anything.” He shrugged. “Everything. You’re doing a good job of giving me variety.”
She looped her arms around his neck and went on tiptoes so their lips brushed as she said, “I want you to use me.”
“What?”
She stared into his eyes as she said, “Whatever fantasy you have, make me do it.” One hand slipped into his hair. “Make me submit. Wring me dry.”
There was a lot of activity in his eyes, but he didn’t speak. She wasn’t even sure he was breathing.
“I’m going to fight you,” she whispered, and his body tightened ever so slightly. “I need to battle tonight, and I want you to win.”
Her stomach jittered as she waited for him to respond. Only the sound of the gently dripping water filled the room. He hadn’t shoved her away and called her crazy yet. Words tumbled out of her mouth, desires she didn’t know she possessed.
“I need you to make me believe I’m yours. Completely, irrevocably. I need to believe things will go right in my life because it’s yours, and you won’t let anything happen to your fuck toy.”
The night of Vinny’s murder marked the beginning of her perfect life being torn to shreds. She lost Vinny and her future, her father, and Uncle Manny. Fast forward to now and she was still floating through life with no anchor or true North. She wanted to imagine she belonged to someone, even if it was only for an hour. She had been alone for so long. The need to feel bonded to someone, to be connected on a visceral level burned in her gut. Before, she arrogantly believed she could control her life, Vinny’s life, Lyla’s life. Vinny was gunned down, Gavin cheated, Lyla had been nearly killed… She couldn’t control people, she couldn’t control anything, so she would give someone else the reins temporarily, if he accepted. She didn’t know who she was anymore. She wanted someone to mold her into someone worth keeping.
She stroked the side of his face with a trembling hand. “Use me, Marcus.”
He searched her eyes. “I don’t know how to do this.”
Oh. My. God. He was willing. Her eyes stung with tears of relief and that awful wrenching feeling in her chest subsided. Her heart swelled with emotion. Holy shit. Marcus Fletcher would let his caveman free. Anticipation and excitement made her breathing heavy. This was dangerous, but she trusted him. Marcus matched her time and again, and he was willing to step off the cliff with her again. She role played with Vinny but never like this. She’d never had these urges before, but they were here now and not going away. It was time to purge. She hoped Marcus was up for it.
“Let yourself go,” she whispered as she kissed the side of his mouth. “You’re a man. Let your animal instincts take over. Forget about morals and proper behavior. Do what feels good. You’re in control here.” She pressed a close-mouthed kiss on his lips before she looked up at him. “That’s the last one you get unless you make me.”
She shoved him hard. He stumbled back and dropped his cup. Glass shattered, and expensive wine leaked across the floor. Neither of them acknowledged it. They stared at one another as the colored lights from The Strip played over their faces. She couldn�
��t read his expression. His rigid body, narrowed eyes, and silence was so unlike him. It made her heart flutter with excitement. She caught glimpses of his dominant side, but he’d never given it free rein. He was always cool and in control. He was comfortable playing the nice guy, but there was more to him. She knew it. Now, how to incite his beast?
She hurled her glass at him. He sidestepped and turned to watch the cup shatter before he turned back to her with a scowl. Her badass bitch rose to the surface and raised a brow.
“What are you gonna do about it?” she asked with a hand on her hip.
He stared at her.
“Nothing?” She sighed dramatically and examined her nails. “Figures. I know I should have fucked—”
One moment, he was standing three feet away, and the next, he was in front of her. He clamped a hand over her mouth and propelled her backward until she collided with the glass wall. Her nails dug into his wrist, but he didn’t loosen his hold. She looked up and her heart stuttered. Holy fuck. The polite, amused businessman was gone. His whole demeanor had changed. His eyes were calculating, cold, and hungry while the lines of his face seemed sharper as he morphed into a character who would match hers.
He leaned down so their faces were inches apart. “Behave.”
She brought her leg up, but he jerked back in time and gripped her by the throat. He squeezed hard enough to make her aware of his strength. No man had ever manhandled her before. No man dared and now… now she could let loose as she never had before.
She went for his eyes with her nails. He blocked her hand at the same time that he kicked one of her legs out from under her. She screamed as she fell backwards. Marcus followed her down and stopped the back of her head from hitting the floor with the grip on her throat. He crouched over her, a beast in his six-thousand-dollar Brioni suit.
