HE TOOKher hand, bringing her fingers to his dark lips and kissing softly along her knuckles. “Hello, my lovely Lincoln,” he said, running his nose along her wrist, inhaling her scent.
Lynx had been playing the role of an enamored woman for so long, her shudders remained hidden deep below the surface. Her perfectly convincing act carried her a long way, but not quite far enough. She needed tonight like a person stranded in the desert needs a drop of water.
Thankfully, she had never told anyone in this mysterious place her real name. She was Lincoln all the time, and it was for the best. Especially in the beginning when she was at the disposal of so many men, she couldn’t bear to hear another man say her birth name. Just the thought of the strange jumble of consonants and one lonely vowel rolling off yet another man’s tongue gave her chills.
“Hello, Zayid,” she answered dutifully, batting her eyelashes as was expected.
The short man stood in front of her wearing an expensive tan suit, a crisp white shirt, and an ice-blue tie, reeking of cologne and privilege.
He brushed his hand on her cheek. “How are you this evening?”
“I’m lovely,” she said—yet another dutiful expectation of her.
“And you certainly look lovely. Is this one of the dresses I purchased for you in London?” he asked, not allowing a minute to pass without his guardianship being noted.
“It is. Thank you.” Lynx leaned in and ran her mouth over Zayid’s cheek, landing on his leathery lips for a kiss, welcoming him as she was expected to.
He pulled her close, his erection digging into her front as he forced his tongue into her mouth. She willed her tongue to explore his, proving she was worthy of being one of his chosen.
Breaking free, he asked, “Shall we?”
As they left the apartment, escorted by several bodyguards through a series of underground tunnels, Lynx tried to get her breathing under control. She hadn’t been to one of the parties since before London. Then again, she’d been whisked on that trip after the last party—when a guest of Zayid’s got too close for comfort ...
LYNX HADbeen drinking a cocktail with her long legs comfortably stretched out along a suede chaise, one of the other girls purring by her feet and another lounging by her head. The DJ was spinning some blaring American techno blend that was hurting her ears. There were girls everywhere in a myriad of variations ... ginger, blond, brunette, freckled, Asian ... but only one black. That was her—the sole dark woman.
Men perused the room, free to take a sample or a taste of any of the numerous flavors on the buffet spread in front of them. If they liked what they tasted and wanted to savor a bit more, there were rooms along the corridor where they could feast to their content behind closed doors.
Except when it came to Lynx. Her off-limits status was clear by the placement of the lounge she inhabited to the left of Zayid’s regal chair.
Of course, while she lay next to his throne, he was across the room running his skinny finger along the brow of an exotic Latin girl who was new to the complex. She sucked on a piece of fruit from her drink, running her tongue all around the limp, pickled piece of nothing, trying to act seductive. It was the same every time there was a new crop of girls. They all wanted to be a favorite, so they labored over ridiculous sensual acts in a desperate attempt to capture Zayid’s attention.
It wasn’t enough to be paid to suck and fuck whatever rich idiots or heads of state Zayid entertained. No, the girls wanted the promise of trips and gifts and extra stipends. Lynx was the first to admit ... it was hard not to get greedy when staring such opulence in the eye.
At that last party, she was being a good girl in her red silk gown, showing off for the crowd how lucky Zayid was, when a stout man approached. Both the girl at her feet and the one sitting by her head leaned forward, trying to seduce the portly guy. No one was in the mood for a fight to break out.
But this asshole paid no mind to the other two women and strode directly to the side of the chaise, grabbing Lynx by the hand and pulling her to her feet.
“Why, hello there, you dark piece of meat.”
“Please let me go.” She spoke quietly, keeping her eyes down while trying to get a glimpse of where Zayid was. He would go ape-shit if this fat fuck didn’t move along.
“No way, baby doll. I was told I was allowed to sample the merchandise, and I want to take you back to a room,” he said, the stench of alcohol and pot oozing in equal measure from his breath and his pores.
Lynx was trying not to gag when a member of the security detail came up from behind them. The big bald dude with rippling muscles in an all-black suit stepped close and lowered his voice, yet still maintained his menace.
“Remove your hands from the lady.”
Smoothing a clammy hand all along her arm, the fat man didn’t even glance his way. “Why?”
“Because she’s off-limits.”
“No fucking way,” the fat man scoffed, and the bodyguard grabbed his arm.
“What in hell is going on here?”
Zayid approached from the other side of the room, his accent coming through stronger in his amazement. Lynx wasn’t sure if it was because someone had the gall to bother her, or that someone disturbed his other little rendezvous across the room.
The bodyguard tightened his grip on the fat man’s arm. “I was just asking this gentleman to move along and remove his hands from Lincoln.”
