I am supposed to be pushing her away, and instead, here I am, standing in one of Kavanaugh’s nightclubs because I refuse to accept what my own men told me. That she is alive. That she is unharmed.
I refuse to believe it until I see her with my own eyes.
Now I have.
“Look,” she sighs, drawing in a deep breath before letting it out slowly. “I’m here to have fun. Don’t ruin it. Please.”
“Why would I ruin it?”
She thinks I am here to drag her back to the penthouse. To lock her away. She doesn’t know I am aware of the knife incident. She believes this is about control.
It’s not.
Not entirely.
The thought of locking her in my bedroom, tied to my bed, crosses my mind. It has merit. But it is impractical, especially now, with Kavanaugh involved.
“Why not?” she asks, tilting her head slightly. Her fake blond hair spills over one shoulder like a waterfall. “You’ve been ruining everything else.”
“Let me show you how much I will not be ruining your night.”
I grin as I pull her from her seat and lead her toward the edge of the dance floor, where the lights barely reach and shadows rule. It is private enough. Perfect.
I don’t miss the way other men stare as she moves, the way her hips sway and grind against my pelvis in time with the beat. Their hunger sharpens something ugly inside me. My jaw tightens. My teeth grind.
I slip my hands over her hips. A soft gasp leaves her painted red lips when I press her ass harder against my straining cock. I lower my head, drag my mouth along her neck, and breathe her in.
Jasmine.
She always smells like jasmine.
Her hands slide into my hair as I nip, kiss, and lick along her jaw, down her neck, onto her shoulder. My hands roam, plucking and massaging at her breasts until she is panting in my arms. I guide us deeper into the shadows where no one can see.
I have never cared for public sex, but the risk of being caught touching her on the dance floor in her father’s club makes my cock throb painfully hard.
A low growl rumbles in my chest as I grip her chin and force her face up and to the side.
Our mouths crash together with brutal urgency. It is not slow. Not gentle. It is desperate, like this could be the last time. My tongue claims her mouth without mercy, taking control, leaving her no choice but to follow. Her ass rolls against my erection, deliberate now.
Fuck.
What is this woman doing to me?
twenty-six
Moaning into his kiss, I swivel my ass against the hard-on he has growing in his trousers. Matthias can dismiss me all he wants, but I know the effect I have on him. One hand pinches and caresses my breast while another slips up the hem of my dress from the back, his fingers lazily creating a path toward my pussy.
I’ve been wet since we step onto the dance floor.
Leaning back into his chest, I am already panting, anxious for his touch.
Matthias’s fingers skate over my mound before parting my lower lips and gently brushing against that little button of pleasure. I bite back a moan, my hands digging into his forearms as his touch sends waves of electricity through my body, my empty pussy clenching with need.
“Matthias…” His name is a breathy plea on my lips.
“What do you want,Krasnyy?” His voice darkens, an edge to his tone as he struggles to remain in control.
“Please…”
