His gaze shifted back to the room list. He pointed at the fifth floor and turned his full attention to me. “What about these? Silent Screams? The Slow Drip? Prey and Predator? Free at Last?”
A slow smile crept across my face, dark and inviting. I let the silence stretch, savoring the tension.
“You’ve never had the urge to sink those beautiful fangs into someone who didn’t see it coming?” I asked, stepping in close. His eyes widened just slightly. “To rip into their throat like the monster they think you are? To lose yourself in the frenzy and take until there’s nothing left to give?”
He froze, mouth slightly parted, and I pounced. My hand closed around his throat, slamming him against the wall. The impact stole his breath, and I used that moment to slowly run my blunt teeth along the hollow of his neck.
“To take… and take… and take as they fight back for their life,” I whispered against his ear, my voice a purr of menace and seduction, “until they can’t fight anymore, limp beneath you, ruined from the inside out?”
He hissed. I licked the curve of his ear.
“To drop them like meat when you’re done because you’ve finally had your fill.”
His breath hitched. His gaze turned sharp, offended, maybe, so I backed off, hands raised in playful surrender. My tone stayed cool despite the heat pulsing in the air between us.
“Consensual non-consent isn’t for everyone.”
He stared at me like I’d just suggested he join a murder cult.
“You really have employees who want that?” Disbelief colored every syllable, and although it rubbed me raw, I let it slide. This was a tour after all.
“Some of them need it,” I said, voice firm, chin high. “Some were turned against their will. Some survived sadistic masters. Others crave extremes, an intensity that strips them bare, where fear and desire blur. For them, that’s what real pleasure looks like.”
He looked away, jaw tight, processing. I’d seen that quiet judgment before, and I knew exactly how to handle it.
“Just because it doesn’t appeal to you doesn’t mean it’s wrong,” I said, slower now. “Just because it makes you uncomfortable doesn’t mean it’s disgusting. It just makes it different.”
I stepped in close again, not to seduce this time, but to drive the point home.
“And here? Different is accepted. There's a place for everyone at the Winged Palace, and everyone has a voice in their own pleasure. No shame. No fear. Just acceptance.”
Shifting the conversation back into business, I offered smoothly, “And if there’s a specific scene you’d like to explore, you’re welcome to email me privately. We can collaborate and figure out how to make it happen.”
His attention returned to me, the tension in his expression easing slightly. “For a fee, of course.”
I laughed, low and knowing. “Naturally. Anything can happen for a fee.”
That was when his silver eyes caught mine again. Something flickered in them, an idea, bright and reckless. He took a slow step closer, testing the waters.
“Ifanythingcan happen for a fee…” he let the words hang as his gaze turned molten, “how much… for you?”
The air shifted. My mouth went dry. My mind, however, went straight to the gutter, flooded with images of the things I could do to him. With him. The rooms we could explore. The positions I could have him in. The sounds he’d make under my hands, my mouth. The look on his face when I took control and wrecked him, piece by piece.
He was the first potential client to stir something so visceral in me, which was exactly why I needed to slam the brakes.
“I’m the only experience in this place youcan’tbuy,” I said, folding my arms and holding his gaze with cool conviction. “No matter how big the offer. I’ve turned down more than you’ve got sitting in your account right now.”
His brow lifted, maybe at the number I’d implied, maybe at the fact that I clearly knew exactly how much he was worth. Either way, he took a step back, offering me a tight-lipped smile, the kind men wore when they were trying to act unaffected by rejection.
And I hated it.
It didn’t feel good. My body was wound up so tight it naturally leaned toward him, and that wasn't good either.
I could still feel the ghost of his hand where it had pressed against my waist, how it had yanked me back against his body. His touch had been searing. Commanding. Addictive.
So, why the hell was I pretending I didn’t want him?
I wasn’t for sale, that was true, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t fuck him senseless if I wanted to. And gods, Iwanted to. This pull, this craving, it was just lust. Just desire. Something to feed until the hunger subsided. Then I’d be done. No regrets. No strings.
