He doesn’t move, though he’s at least started to soften. Rowan, on the other hand, hasn’t stopped hyperventilating. Even though Glen’s not paying attention to her anymore, she can’t take her eyes off the blade. Blood trickles in a thin line from the cut on her chest down over her side.
There’s something stark, startling about the sight of a red line over her perfect skin. The light hanging over the table only highlights the contrast. It draws my eye.
Glen needs to get out of here before I kill him.
He takes his time about climbing down from the table, muttering things about professionalism and contracts. But he doesn’t argue—that’s key. The man knows there isn’t anywhere else in town or even within a reasonable driving distance where he’d be able to satisfy his unique needs.
And once I ask a customer not to return, no matter how long they’ve been a visitor, they don’t cross the threshold again for any reason. They could be bleeding to death on the sidewalk, and I would call for an ambulance, but I wouldn’t bring them inside.
It takes a lot for me to get to that point, and I’ve only had to do it twice. After all, a contract is a contract, and I have to hold up my end of the bargain.
Unless Glen plays it smart, he’s about to become number three.
Lucky for him, he plays it smart. My guys flank him on the way out the door, though, just in case he decides to change his mind. I wouldn’t necessarily put it past him—one of those buttoned-up types on the street and a complete psycho in his private life.
No, he’s smart. He doesn’t want to have to hunt his victims on the streets.
I turn to Rowan as the door closes, leaving us alone. “Oh, my god.” Her chest heaves as she sobs, tears soaking her face and her hair. “Oh, my god, please. Please, let me go. Thank you for making him stop. Please, let me go.” She turns her wrists back and forth in the cuffs, and I notice how red and chafed they are. Ankles, too. She’s been struggling.
Goddammit. Glen’s not the only one who gets off on a helpless woman. If this were any other situation, the things I’d do to her.
My cock stirs at the mere thought of it. Even her begging turns me on. It adds to the helplessness, makes it more authentic.
In her case, it is authentic. She’s not playing. The extra desperation in her voice, in the way she struggles even though she doesn’t have a hope of escaping, makes me want to savor this moment. It makes me want to savor her.
What I could do to this woman. What I could make her do to me. Do for me. The need to possess her consumes me.
Now I know it won’t be enough to let her go. I want her for myself. I want her to please me, to work off her debt with me. Because no matter how upset she is and no matter how freaked out Glen made her, she still owes me.
I’m not a perfect man. I know there’s darkness in me. I don’t bother trying to fight it—it’d be a waste of time, like fighting my need for air and water or willing my eyes into changing color. I don’t believe in wasting time. In wishing.
And the darkness in me flares to life, threatening to overtake me now. Something in this girl speaks to that part of me. Sings to it. Entices it, teases it, invites it to come out and play. I’ve never known a temptation this sweet. A man could become addicted.
“I relate to the people who visit this club. Men and women both.” I make it a point to keep my voice low so as not to upset her further. She’s been through enough tonight. Besides, I need her to hear me, and if she’s sobbing and blubbering, there’s no chance of that.
She’s watching me now, weeping softly. “Let me go.” Her voice is like that of a wounded child. There’s none of that bravery from up in my office. It didn’t take much to break her, did it? A few shallow cuts.
Though I can imagine her horror, still. I try not to relate to the girls who come here to work, but there are times when I can’t help it. “I imagine this evening was difficult for you. I can’t help what my customers want. I only provide an outlet for their darkest desires. I like to imagine this keeps them from indulging elsewhere, under less controlled circumstances.”
Either she’s unimpressed, or she’s too busy trying to understand where this is going to offer any meaningful response. All she does is whimper, her struggles weakening. She’s exhausted herself.
“You have to understand something, Rowan.” I walk a slow circle around the table, taking in every inch of her. Imagining the many positions I can twist her supple body into. “I believe in fairness. In people living up to their promises and obligations. Tonight was too much for you. I thought it would be.”
Her whimpering grows slightly louder.
“I wouldn’t break the rules for just anybody. In fact, this is the first time I’ve stopped a customer before they reached satisfaction. I hope you know what that means.”
She lifts her head, eyes finding mine. “Thank you?”
I can’t tell whether she’s genuinely thanking me or making an ironic comment,and I like that. The fact of her not being entirely transparent. Just enough to keep me intrigued.
“However.” I come to a stop between her legs. She’s delectable: smooth-shaven, plump lips that ought to glisten with my cum. I force my eyes away from the sight. “As difficult as this evening was for you, your debt still stands.”
Her eyes go perfectly round an instant before her mouth falls open. “Oh, no, please! I can’t. I can’t go through this again, please. I’ll do anything else.”
“You’re right. You will do something else.”
Her panicked breathing only slows slightly. “Wh-what do you want instead?” she asks in a voice that’s more like a squeak.
