“I want you to go make sure he has a great time.” He glances at me and emphasizes the last two words.
“Who is he?”
“Don’t worry about that. Just go take care of him.”
I study the man as well as I can at this distance. He’s older than Declan, probably around late thirties to early forties. Dark hair and an even darker aura surround this man. The shadows seem to bleed out of him. Empty shot glasses are scattered across his table. In the five minutes I stand here watching him, he denies every single girl.
“Why do you think he’ll want me?” I break the silence. “He's turned away everyone, even Dina.” Dina is one of the most stunning dancers here. Legs for days and a body that looks like it was sculpted from stone. The woman has curves, and she definitely knows how to work them. She’s the epitome of the male fantasy.
“Because you’re my top girl. No one can say no to you.” He wraps his arms around my waist from behind. His lips trail along my shoulder and up my neck.
“Is he dangerous?” I ask as his fingers play with the waistband of my thong. I can feel his breath creeping along my skin as he whispers in my ear.
“Yes. But you’ve always been addicted to the danger, haven’t you, Little Dove?”
His hand lowers, sliding my thong to the side. His finger trails along the bare skin of my pussy as he bites and kisses my neck. His other hand slides beneath the lace of my bra. Pinching and rolling my nipple as his finger slides inside me.
“I want you to get him alone. Use room four. I had the guys get it set up for you already.” He adds a second finger, slowly thrusting them inside me.
“What do I need to do once we’re alone?” I ask. Something seems off. I know Dec is involved in some shady shit, but he’s never used me to get theissuesalone.
“Like I said, make sure he has a great night. Use the chair or the bed. Either way, I just need him restrained by the end. Understood?”
His fingers curl, stroking along my G-spot. Warmth is starting to run through my veins as I get closer to coming. He can feel my pussy tightening around his fingers. Almost…
“That’s enough.” His fingers slip out of me, leaving me right on the edge and pissed off.
“What the fuck, Dec…” He silences me by placing the two fingers that were just inside me on my tongue. The taste of me fills my mouth as he slowly begins to slide them along my tongue. His other hand holds my throat, keeping my body against his.
“I want you right on the edge, Little Dove. I want him to be able to smell that needy cunt of yours. I want him to taste you on your tongue. Make him crave you. I want him completely restrained. Mac will be waiting right outside the room once you’re done. Do not fuck this up. Understood?” He presses his fingers down hard onto my tongue while the other hand tightens its grip on my throat.
I nod as much as he is allowing me to move. Nothing about this feels right. A heavy, sour feeling pools in my stomach. Why do I feel like I’m about to sentence this man to his death?
“Good girl. Don’t clean up. Like I said, I want him to be able to smell your arousal. It's like a fucking drug.” He smacks my ass as he steps away, leaving me flustered, confused, and staring down at the mystery man.
I watch for a few moments. His gaze never leaves the stage, except to grab another shot or to gesture to Kimmy to bring him more. He scowls at Sara as she tries to sit in his lap. Another denial. Why the fuck does Declan think I'll be the one he'll want?
Who the hell is this man?
CHAPTER 3
Mina
“Iwant your eyes on me, Lulu. I want your thoughts only on me tonight. Can you do that?” he says. His voice is low, and I can practically feel it wrapping around me.
“Yes, Sir.”
“Good girl.” Good lord. Who the hell is this guy?
He’s tall. Even in my heels, he’s still at least half a foot taller. Those dark copper eyes study me as if he is trying to peer into my soul. I can see the slight grays shimmering against his long, shaggy, dark hair. He’s hot as fuck.
My lips part to ask him his name, but I’m silenced as he crushes his lips to mine. One hand cups my face, the other is tangled in my hair. It’s not gentle. It’s not sweet. This kiss is pure, heated desire. His tongue presses past my lips as his fingers tighten the tension on my hair. My moan is covered by the growl from deep in his chest. My fingertips press into the soft fabric covering his shoulders as I bite his lower lip. He tastes like a mixture of whisky and amaretto. It’s intoxicating. He’s intoxicating.
“Wait,” I manage to squeak out as I gasp in a bit of air.
He pulls away but keeps his hands cupping my chin and wound in my hair. His eyes scan my face, then my body.
“What is it?” he asks. He’s out of breath. We both are. The depth of his kiss was like he was searching for something.
