It’sbeenalmosttwomonths since I nearly died. I’m still tender and tire easily, but I’m healing well. Mostly because I don’t have the worry about what will happen to Hayes, and also because I have that obsessed man doting on me and anticipating what I need before I even tell him.
I’m in our bedroom in the house Luthor purchased for me to make my home if I had decided to stay in San Francisco. A lesser man might hate this house. Although I wouldn’t say Hayes loves the fact that Luthor took care of this for me, he can see how much the beautiful, cozy home means to me.
Plus, with the perfect view of the Golden Gate Bridge from our backyard, we can have picnics with the bridge in view, letting me relive my cherished memories of doing so with my parents. Or we sit and gaze at it in the moonlight, cuddled together, and plan for our future.
The door opens to our bedroom, and my breath snags in my chest.
Hayes is so incredibly gorgeous, it makes my heart and core clench. Dressed in his MC attire, he’s got a dark edge. But dressed in a perfectly fitted suit…the man is lethal.
His eyes rake over me, taking in me and my scandalous dress. “You look like pure sin, siren.” His gaze lifts to mine, and he frowns. Walking to me, he brushes his knuckles down my cheek. “What’s wrong? You don’t like the dress?”
It’s similar to the black silk one I wore the first night at Hedon, except that one covered my full chest. This dress ties around my neck, like the other one, but it has an open section that exposes the top of my chest and shows my scar.
The healing scar from where Guerilla plunged a knife into me after I shot him.
Understanding settles over Hayes’ face. “You’re gorgeous, whatever scars line your body.”
“I know it’s vain.”
Slade has multiple scars on her from the hell she survived and is brave enough to expose some of hers now.
“It’s not vain, little dove.” A dark look passes through his eyes. “It’s a reminder that my bastard brother tried to take you from me.”
Something Guerilla had paid for.
I don’t know any details, but Hayes kept his promise that his death would be quick, so there wasn’t any chance he could escape and torment us further. Even though it was quick, I know it wasn’t merciful.
His look softens, and he drags his knuckles over the scar. “Tats said once this is finished healing, he’ll cover it with a tattoo of whatever you want.”
“Your brand.” The words are out before I even process them. But once they are, I know this is what I want, and it’s perfect.
Hayes’ eyes shine, and he inhales deeply. “I love that idea.” He steps closer, wrapping his hands around my waist and pulling me flush against him. “You want to be my old lady?”
I smile up at him. “Well, we are going to be married in a few days.”
“My wife and old lady. Everything I ever wanted.” He drags his tongue over his bottom lip, his look turning wolfish and a tad sinister. “Let’s go, siren. I want to finally introduce you to the Sybian Saddle.” He lowers his mouth over my thundering pulse. “And I can continue your introduction to filthy…”—he licks at my skin—“sex and exploring your most deviant…”—another lick, followed by a suck—“desires.”
Ever since I’ve healed enough for sex, Hayes has been a gentle lover, which I love him deeply for. But I pleaded with him to take me to Hedon tonight so we could continue exploring this side of myself together.
I don’t have to worry about the red-headed bombshell, Anais, being there. She had played a role in conspiring with Guerilla, and while I didn’t ask for those details, either, I know she’s no longer a problem.
I also have a surprise for Hayes tonight, but I don’t even hint at it as he gives me one last filthy kiss, then takes my hand and leads me to go explore and experience our most hedonistic desires.
I’m a puddle of need. Hayes has kept us in the main room of Hedon for what feels like an eternity. My thighs are slick with my wetness, but he hasn’t touched or played with me.
Even though we’re both wearing masks, and his tattoos are covered, so no one knows who either of us is, he refuses to touch me.
Well, that’s not entirely true. Heistouching me—holding my back against his front while I sit on his lap—as we watch the people around us finding their pleasure in the most uninhibited, hedonistic ways.
But he's edging the hell out of me. I'm so turned on while we indulge in the voyeurism kink I love, but he refuses to touch or play with me out here in front of people. Whenever I grind my ass against the obscene bulge in his pants, he roughly commands me to stop.
Honestly, I don't want him to play with me in front of others, but dammit, I'm losing my mind with lust and need. And I need to do something to make his control snap so he'll take me out of the main room and somewhere private.
And I know exactly what will do it.
I smirk underneath my mask. Then I rise off his lap and sink to my knees, staring up at him, and reach for his belt.
Rage flares in his eyes, and I imagine his nostrils flaring underneath the devil’s mask he wears. Then I’m yanked up to my feet so fucking fast, my head spins.
