Royal
I hear her the second I step into the hallway.
The sound cuts through the silence like a sin whispered in a confessional.
Soft.Breathless.Muffled like she’s trying not to be heard.
Then I hear the chain, the moans.
And it hits me where it hurts most, deep, low, molten.Heat flares beneath my skin, rough and instant, lighting every nerve like a fuse.And it’s like I didn’t just relieve myself.
I freeze mid-step, one hand braced on the wall, staring at her closed door like it’s a loaded gun pointed at my chest.
Becki’s getting off.
I shouldn’t go back.
I absolutely should not open this door.
But my hand lifts anyway, sliding the key into the lock before I’ve even decided what lie I’m gonna tell myself later.
The door opens.
I freeze.
Becki’s still on the cot, but her thighs are parted, her hand between them, the chain tight around her wrist, her chest rising and falling in the wreckage of an orgasm she’s still trying to breathe through.Her hair is matted, cheeks flushed, lips parted like she’s still coming down from the high.
Her eyes fly open when she hears me.
Not embarrassed.
Daring.
Like she’s been waiting for me to see.
Slowly, she drags her glistening fingers up her stomach, over her ribs… to her mouth.
She sucks her own fingers clean.
Then smiles.
“Shut the door, Royal,” she whispers, voice rasped from pleasure.“Or leave it open and let the whole damn club see.”
My vision goes red at the edges.
Possessive.
Obscene.
Destroyed.
The door slams shut so hard dust shakes from the frame.
I stalk toward her, every step a warning.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”I snarl.
She lies back on the bed, chain rattling like applause.“Replacing what you wouldn’t give me.”
