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“Are you going to leave me on read again?”

“No.”

“Are you going to miss another appointment with me?”

“No,” she whimpers.

“Are you going to lie to me again?”

She shakes her head.

“Words, please.”

“No!” she pants. “Casper, I can’t—I can’t hold it.”

“I know, baby. Almost done.”

She clamps down tighter. Shit, she really is going to lose control.

“Say you’re sorry.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” she mumbles.

“That’s better. See? This is what you look like when you show up and are present. This is how I expect you to act going forward.”

She grits her teeth, groaning as she struggles to keep it together. Her head bobs up and down and her knuckles bloom white as she grips the edge of the seat.

“Are you going to be my messy girl when you come?”

I finger-fuck her until she’s overcome with tremors, and my ego swells as soon as her body clamps down and liquid gushes around my hand.

“Yeah, you are . . .” I drawl, pressing my thumb to her overly sensitive clit. She attempts to scoot back, but I pin her in place. “Tsk. No pulling away, remember. You take what I give you.”

She abandons her inhibitions and surrenders. I’ve never been more turned on, and it has nothing to do with how sexy she is when she comes—this is Anna. She’s being vulnerable, trusting, and feels safe enough with me to turn off her mind while she loses herself to euphoria.

I summon one ragged moan after another from her sweet body, wringing out the last of her orgasm. When she finally comes down, her cheeks are flushed red, mascara smudged, and lips swollen from our kiss. She’s never looked more beautiful.

I withdraw and suck her arousal off my fingers. “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Her chest heaves; she’s unable to catch her breath and still gawking at me as if she’s surprised by what happened. She shouldn’t be.

“Now, let’s get you covered up so we can get out of here.”

When I step into the club the following night, there’s less guilt in my gut now that my secret’s out. Casper knows, and he seems okay with it, as long as I’m being honest—which is more than fair. The confidence, the way he opened up, it was the hottest display of masculinity I’ve ever seen. He knew what he wanted, and he went for it. Never once did he yell, but he made his dominance known.

I paint a pretend smile on my face as I head toward the VIP rooms in the back. They try to appear exclusive and sexy, but the illusion is cracking—much like the fractured mirrors and sticky vinyl flooring under my heels. Not even the cloying scent of cheap perfume can mask the sour stench that seems to emanate from this club. The dim lighting is supposed to be seductive, but it just looks tired.

The last thing I want to do is grind on some other guy, but maybe if I imagine they’re a six-foot-seven tattooed tall drink of water . . . I step behind the curtain of the VIP room and am hit with a wave of relief.

Casper.

It’s almost as if I conjured him after he spent the day ruling my thoughts. Last night he tried to get me to leave with him. After a disagreement, he stayed with me and we spent the night chatting on that stupid bench seat until my shift was over, and then he slipped six hundred dollars in my hand for the “conversation.” When I realized how much he gave me, he had already vanished.

Taking his money feels gross, but I’m too ashamed to tell him about the blackmail.

“What the fuck are you doing, Casper?”

He huffs out a laugh. “Well, nice to see you too! I’m great, thanks for asking.”