He watched me carefully, such rage burning in the depths of those eyes. Rage that crashed against mine like the sea against the cliffs. Except his was the sea and mine was the cliffs, slowly chipping away, eroding, sliding into the ocean until there was nothing left to crash against.
“I never said you were,” he said quietly.
My eyes widened and I quickly turned back to my drink. Dammit.Dammit. He got in my head.
Of course he did, he was a figment of my fucked-up imagination.
I took a drink and closed my eyes. I needed to leave. I had to go.
The man leaned in again. “If you want to fight, then let’s fight,” he said, causing a chill to run down my spine. “I can take you back to the basement,” he told me, sliding his hand back over my knee.
I clenched my jaw, fire erupting across my skin, my pussy throbbing like the thirsty whore it was.
“I can tie you back down to that chair,” he went on, easing the hem of my dress up, “get the ice.”
I clenched my thighs together, feeling his warm hand move up my thigh, over it. “Rather that than you touching me,” I said through my teeth, jerking my legs from his grip.
But his hand only tightened, digging into my skin. He jerked me closer and forced my thighs apart, sliding his hand between my them. “I don’t think that’s true,” he hummed, looking at the wall in front of him.
I tried to pull my leg back, fold them back together withoutcausing a scene, but I couldn’t. He was too strong, and my need was too much.
“You see,” he went on, sliding his hand up between my thighs until he grazed over my already soaking thong, “I think you liked it.”
I gripped my glass, pressing my lips into a thin line as my hips rocked forward on their own.
“I think you liked the bite of the cold.” He slowly pushed my underwear to the side, grazing the tip of his finger against my entrance. “The thought of getting caught any second. You liked the wayIcontrolled you.”
My hair fell to curtain my face, a breath escaping me as he slid a finger inside of me. Oh,shit. “This isn’t the place to take your payment,” I bit out, although my voice sounded husky and out of breath.
“I already told you,” he said, working another finger in as he moved them in and out, “I’ll take it whenever and however I want, and where better than here? Where anyone could see and know exactly what’s happening. You don’t get the privilege of control anymore.”
I released my glass and grabbed the edge of the bar, tilting my hips up, a breath escaping me when his fingers hit that spot. Jakewouldsee. The patrons would see, but God, I couldn’t think straight. I couldn’t even breathe right.
And honestly, the thought of them watching me, watching what they could never have, it only made my pussy throb.
“Maybe I’ll use wax next time,” he mused as that whirl of heat and electric currents built under my skin. “Maybe I’ll tie you down on that concrete floor and coat your tits and wet cunt in hot wax.”
A strangled whimper escaped me at the thought.
“Over your neck, your chest, those pretty hips of yours.”
My nails dug into the wood of the bar, nothing else existingbut the world he was putting in my head.
“You liked that fire so much, maybe we’ll have some more fun with it.”
It had hurt terribly, but he was right, it had made mefeelsomething. The fire, the ice, the pain from my feet going numb, when he had pressed those cubes against my lower stomach. I had felt it. His hard cock. I had felt it just before he lifted himself and sat on his own hand. I knew he loved doing it. Torturing me. He got off on it. He got off on choking me, on causing me pain, and I was addicted to it too.
I wanted to kiss him, to touch him. I needed more than this. More.
I released the bar and grabbed his hand, not to guide him, just to feel the muscles work under his skin as he finger-fucked me in his club.
I covered my mouth with my other hand, my entire body tensing as I fought the urge to grind against him. I was going to—
I pressed my hand against my mouth, plugging my nose as it shook through me in aching waves. Over and over again, the vibrations running up my spine, causing goosebumps to erupt across my skin. I kept hold of his hand, keeping it there, feeling his muscles contracting under my fingers as his motions slowed. His hand felt so good. Not just inside of me, but in my hand too.
My hands were so small compared to his. He consumed me completely.
I looked over, peeking at him through strands of hair, trying to catch my breath, and he was watching me, his pupils dilated, his eyes locked on me in a way that made me feel as if he was never going to look away. No matter where he was, where I was, I would always feel him right there. Watching me. For however long I lived, I would feel his eyes on my skin.
