“Don’t you think you deserve it?” he asked. “Pleasure. Orgasms.”
“You know I don’t,” I moaned, bucking against him.
“No,” he said, a little sadly, his fingers still rubbing and stroking and searching. “You don’t think so. But you’ll let me do this. You’ll let me lock you in a bathroom and force you, because then it wouldn’t matter if you deserved it or not. You’d just be doing your job.”
“Ahhh,” I cried out as he found the right spot.
“There?” he asked, the tease.
“No, no,” I begged, because I didn’t deserve it, didn’t want it, except for the burning desire to have him and keep him and feel this way forever.
“Just take it,” he murmured. “You’re not responsible for this.”
He closed his mouth over my clit once more, sucking and lashing it as his fingers pushed me over. My entire body jerked once in a futile protest before giving in to the flood of pleasure. Wave after wave crashed over me, until my vision blurred to a distorted hue and my mouth filled with water, and then he was kissing me, soothing me, rocking me gently back to shore. I shuddered against his still hand as the last vestiges of my orgasm left me.
Like the insistent cawing of seagulls, the rattling on the door was too distant to disturb my stupor.
“Oh, Luke,” I sighed, resting my forehead against the softness of his neck.
Tension tightened his body broken only by the tremors that ran through him.
“Let me touch you,” I said, knowing he wouldn’t. In that way, he was like me.
“I didn’t mean for this to happen,” he said gruffly.
“Sex in a dirty bathroom is usually a spur-of-the-moment activity. Or so I assume. I have never done it before.”
“Really?” His voice was wry. “An accomplished sexual maestro like yourself?”
“Yes, well, usually I have standards about these things.”
“Except with me.” The amusement was gone.
“You’re my new standard,” I said softly. “Anything else doesn’t compare.”
He pulled back, his features strained. “God, Shelly. The things you do to me, the things you say. I can’t even lust after you properly. I want to devour you, swallow you whole. I want to secret you away where no one can ever take you from me, not even you.”
My breath caught at the jagged edge of longing that grated his voice. If ever I had imagined us together, there were silk petals on satin sheets and scented candles in the window. Sweet words and courtly manners were a safe fantasy. But this feral desire did more than woo me—it thrilled me. A dark and primal part of me awoke from deep slumber and stretched, its sleek black body rippling with its urge to claim, to mark, to devour him right back until we were inseparable. I wanted to drown in the sea of possession, to tie myself to his weight and throw myself into the water, so that even if I lost my nerve, we would still be together. “You won’t be satisfied until I’m ruined, will you?”
His eyes swirled green and black, molten malachite, as he murmured, “Turnabout is fair play.”
As we left the small bathroom, sauntering past the angry line of people, I wondered if it was true. Would I be willing to ruin his career to make him want me? And if he did abandon his principles for me, would I even want him still?
Chapter Ten
We handed over a few hundreds to get into the back areas with large booths and thick tables, probably made for dancing on. Low platforms skirted the length of the room, studded with poles to the ceiling, but no strippers graced them. Testosterone filled the room like dust in the desert, emanating from the lounging men. A few women perched on laps. They were eye candy as much as the gold chains and flashy watches the men wore.
I recognized about a third of the people, but Luke had been right. I had glimpsed these people as they interacted with Henri, but these weren’t my clients. This wasn’t my scene. I kept my eyes downcast. It would help prevent anyone from recognizing me, plus that was proper submissive behavior. Luke slung his arm around my neck, a mark of ownership. I could feel the eyes on us, their heat and judgment. New meat would always be a novelty, whether it was a feisty virgin escort or a new couple in the scene.
A man waved us over. He wore a similar grunge uniform to Luke, though a stripped-down version—and he seemed far more intimidating. Tattoos blanketed his scalp, visible through his cropped hair. A flat look in his eyes said he was no stranger to death. He introduced himself as Todd and spoke to Luke, but he kept his eyes on me.
“Haven’t seen you around.”
“We’re new in town,” Luke said coolly. “Just checking things out.”