Why am I not surprised that he wants me looking freshly fucked? I think he'd brand his name on my forehead if I let him.
The event is a black-tie benefit at an uptown museum. The crowd is a cesspool of film execs, highly paid managers, movie stars, and models with skin so perfect I hate them all on sight. Everyone's here to see and be seen, to stab a back or two, or to get drunk on expensive champagne and gossip.
Asher gives them plenty of the latter. He drapes me on his arm and steers me through the marble lobby like he owns the building. He doesn't let go of me, not even to shake hands. He just nods at people, his grip like iron around my waist. Every time I try to move away, he pulls me closer.
After half an hour of circulating, he spins me onto the dance floor.
He keeps one hand anchored to the small of my back, the other locked around my wrist so I can't escape.
"Why are you being so attentive?" I whisper, but that's not entirely what I mean. This isn't about being my attentive date. It's about branding me in front of the people who probably pray for his downfall, making sure everyone knows I'm off-limits. But he's also here with me, making me feel like maybe I don't mind being branded.
He leans close, his mouth to my ear. "You looked like you needed reminding."
"Of what?"
He dips me low enough to make my heart stutter, then pulls me flush against his chest. "That you belong to me. Now, the whole world knows it, princess."
I don't even bother trying to argue. Instead, I rest my cheek against his shoulder and let him guide me across the floor, past clusters of men who stare openly, past women who look at me like they're equally jealous as hell and scandalized. I ignore them all.
After the third dance, I try to wriggle away. "I need air," I say.
Asher nods, but instead of letting me go, he leads me past the bar, past the coat check, and out to the balcony. The city sprawls below us, all lights and smog, the Hudson a strip of glittering black in the distance.
He doesn't say anything for a minute, just stands beside me, one hand at the small of my back.
I watch him out of the corner of my eye, searching for a crack in the stone. I want to ask what he sees at night that makes him wake up gasping in my bed, his eyes wild as he reaches for me. But I don't. If I do, he won't tell me. He'll just do what he always does and fuck me until I forget why I even wanted to know.
Instead, I simply watch him until he slides his hand down the curve of my waist and cups my hip, right where the slit exposes my bare skin. He presses his thumb to my bone, hard enough that I feel it all the way up my spine.
"I feel you looking at me, begging to be ruined," he says, still staring straight ahead.
I shake my head, pretending I don't know what he's talking about. It's a lie, though. I've been desperate since I put the plug in. Maybe since I saw it in his hands. "You're imagining things."
He turns, framing my face in his hands. "I'm going to take you home with me tonight," he says quietly, "and I'm going to keep you on my cock for as long as I fucking want."
I shiver, but not from the wind. He spends most nights in my bed, but I've yet to spend a night in his, not sure I'll survive being let into his space like I belong there. I'm not sure I can be his in that way and then pretend it meant nothing when our agreement ends. But…I want it anyway, so fucking badly it's ridiculous.
"You're going to ruin me," I say, meaning it.
He just laughs, that cold, beautiful sound that's better than any music I've ever heard. "That's the idea, princess. We both know it's what you want, anyway."
We leave the party early, sliding out past the army of security guards and photographers, and into the waiting cavern of his limo.
The divider is up before the driver even pulls away.
Asher drags me onto his lap, my knees digging into the leather, my dress hiked up to my waist.
"Take it off," he commands, already tugging the zipper down.
I swallow, my fingers trembling as I tug the straps down my shoulders. The fabric pools at my waist. My nipples harden in the cool air.
He wastes no time sucking one into his mouth, biting until I whimper.
He pulls back, his eyes glittering in the dark. "You're going to ride me all the way home," he says.
"And if I don't?" I ask, just to see what he'll do.
His lips curve in a smile that could split me in two. "Then I'll let down the divider and fuck you in front of the driver. Your call."
