Zayid glared at the man. “I would do what he says. Lincoln is not for anyone but me. That is my seat,” he said, pointing toward his large gold encrusted throne, and then gestured to Lynx. “And this is one of my personal women.”
Tamping down a wave of disgust at the thought of being someone’s property, Lynx stood and smiled like a pageant winner. She almost started waving her hand in the air as if she were sitting on the edge of a convertible in a parade wearing a sash and a crown.
The bodyguard dragged the fat dude out, and later escorted Zayid and Lynx to a private airstrip where they departed to fly to London. In the back of the plane, Zayid blindfolded his prize girl before roughly taking her from behind.
The heavy scrap of fabric caught unwanted tears as Lynx came hard despite not wanting to give in to the sensations crashing through her body. Zayid knew where to flick and pinch, and within a matter of moments, she was squirming and panting. Her braids laid long and heavy on her back while her hands remained trapped—she wanted to rip her hair out by the roots, but her hands were stuck underneath Zayid’s heavy torso and her own weight.
“Who is in charge?” he yelled as he pumped himself furiously into her most private spot.
“You, Zayid. You,” Lynx answered dutifully.
Slapping her ass, he pumped harder until he pulled out and emptied himself all over her lower back and ass crack, marking her. Smearing her with his dirtiness. Labeling her with shame—if it were possible to wear any more.
She couldn’t wait to run and replace his marking with a more permanent one. The tattoo.
TONIGHT, LYNXlet out all her fear and apprehension on a long exhale as they approached where the gathering was already in full swing. It was late, close to midnight, but she’d lost all sense of day and night shortly after arriving here. She spent more time awake when it was dark than light.
Almost at the party, Zayid stopped and pushed Lynx up against a wall. The cold stone pressed into her bare back as he said, “Don’t be encouraging tonight, Lincoln. Remember who owns you? Me. It was I who took you to London last month, and Hong Kong the month before that. Only I fill your holes. Do you know what I mean, my beauty?”
“Yes, Zayid, I know,” Lynx said, lifting her gaze to meet his, something she didn’t often dare do, but she needed a favor from him tonight. “It is you, Zayid, who I belong to. Only you.”
“Good. Now, let’s go have fun. And be ready to go down the hall to my private quarters later. I’m feeling very energetic, my beauty.” He ended the conversation by running his palm over the side of her breast and sliding his slobbery tongue along her ear.
She waited until they were walking again to allow the cringe to exit her body.
