I panic when he reaches for it, and I bat his hand away. “Apple,” I say, the club’s standard safe word to stop everything, very loudly and very clearly.
It doesn’t faze him. “I need to know who you are.”
Before I can turn to find one of the security team, the aggressive man is pinned against the bar, bent painfully backward over it, and there’s a hand gripping his throat.
I follow that hand up the strong arm, in an expensive, well-tailored suit jacket, all the way up to the thick shoulder, and to the mask that covers his entire head.
It’s him. My wolf.
He leans down to speak in my offender’s ear. Whatever he says makes the man pale instantly, and fear washes over his face as he nods profusely and mumbles ‘sorry’ repeatedly. When my wolf releases his throat, the man scrambles to stand upright, then hurries toward the door without looking back at me.
I can only stare at my wolf, my savior. And the look in his eyes—the only part of his face visible through the mask—is wild and hungry.
He’s larger than I remember. More intense. More…potent.
He traces the line of my jaw with his knuckle. “Are you okay, siren?”
It feels like he’s looking straight into my soul. As if the mask I’m wearing means nothing, and he knows exactly who’s hiding behind it.
“Yes,” I breathe. “Thank you.”
I step toward him because I can’t help it. The attraction between us is off the charts. I felt it that first night, but somehow, this feels different. Like something has shifted. Like some cosmic balance in the universe has adjusted, leaving me off-balance.
His hands settle on my waist, pulling me closer, but stopping before our bodies touch. He stares down at me, and a sense of calm and familiarity settles over me. Like I know this man.
Inwardly, I shake my head at myself. I slept with a man who rocked my world—correction, my entire universe—with mind-blowing orgasms, and I get all weird and psycho.
But I can’t let myself get drawn in too deep; he’s a member of the Havoc Guardians. There’s no future with him in it. I came here to lay my ghosts to rest, reclaim the part of me that has been withering and fading, and then walk away.
This is just sex.
Primal and carnal, mind-blowing sex. He offered to be my guide into this unknown territory and help me discover what brought me that toe-curling pleasure.
“Do you always wear a mask?” I ask.
He tilts his head before he answers, “It helps prevent complications.”
I’m curious to know more, but it’s not my place to ask, especially since I don’t want him to ask my reasoning for wearing a mask.
And because talking is the very last reason why you came here. Get on it, girl.
It’s like Ursula’s voice is in my head, and I fight a smile.
One of his hands comes around my nape, cupping it while his other stays on my waist. “What now, siren?”
I wet my lips. “You’re letting me decide?”
I can tell he smiles under his mask.
“My perfect little submissive.” His hand tightens on my neck. “But it’s you who has all the control. You who dictates the boundaries that I’ll push you to while we explore this world of pleasure.”
“Okay.” The word is breathy, almost a moan.
I need to get a grip, or I’m going to start humping his leg right here and now.
I’m pretty sure that exhibitionism is not on my list of kinks—for me to be played with or to be fucked in front of an audience. However, as I scan the room, taking in the uninhibited scene and feeling wetness pool between my legs, I’m reminded that voyeurism definitely is.
A woman cries out in pleasure while she straddles a man. Bliss and ecstasy are painted on her features as her head falls back. She’s beautiful. Not only in appearance, but in the way that she owns and claims her sensuality. Her hips undulate as she rides him, and he stares up at her, his hands roaming all over her like he’s worshipping her.
