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“I wasn’t aware this was the kind of message you wanted to send.”
“I’m sorry you were under the impression you could opt out of it.”
“What is this, damn it?”
I brace myself for a condescending laugh or a whipping reply. Instead, he signals Marco with his chin for another round. My bartender seems to be aware of us with every breath, and he’s fast to bring the order, too. It’s fascinating, the power Zayne has to make people feel compelled to do his bidding.
“Marco knows what’s happening,” I reproach as Zayne pushes the glass in front of me. “This is bad, you know? He works for me.”
“It’s not like he hasn’t watched you grab other guys’ cocks under the counter before. Here, have a drink and loosen up.” His arm resumes its grip across my lower back, my shoulder shoved against his chest. The man feels like a block of concrete against my flesh.
“It seems your people haven’t been doing their job right,” I tell him, eyeing the scotch. “If they did, you’d know I didn’t pick anyone up on his watch. I always prefer to have Lyvie here, but she’s on vacation tonight.”
“That’s fortunate because I wanted him to be here.” He brings his lips to my ear as his thumb pushes aggressively between the lips of my pussy. Fuck, I shouldn’t be this wet, not at how roughly he handles me. “I know about the first time you met him. Back at that bar. I know that you found him attractive, and you only rejected him when you realized he only intended to use you.”
“How can you possibly–” I breathe, but he shoves his thumb inside my pussy so forcefully that I lose a yelp. Luckily, no one can hear me over the crowd. Only Marco glances over, but to him, the closeness between Zayne and me must be oozing intimacy. Not that he could intervene if he saw violence either.
“I know more than you imagine, wild flame,” he croons, sounding like an incubus slithering inside my mind. “He bragged, you see. About meeting you, and you having eyed him. About how, next time, he would get you under the counter, sucking his cock.”
My eyes flash up at Marco. I only hired him to prove that he couldn’t manipulate me with his looks and his crooked smiles and his winks, and I might have grabbed a guy or two by the cock here when I’d had one too many drinks. I did it on purpose, to prove the younger bastard it would always be someone else, never him.
“Drink,” Zayne commands, in a tone that is sensual as hell. Like a sex demon that I had no chance of resisting.
“I could make this so sweet for you,” he says in my ear while I down my glass, removing his thumb from my pussy only to dedicate his attention to my clit. It hits me that he only wanted to check how wet I was for him on the inside, and that he found me embarrassingly soaked. “But you don’t deserve sweet, not for how you tried to manipulate me.”
I put my glass down and open my mouth to bite back while I still can, but all that comes out is a long sigh when he pushes two fingers inside of me. They fill me up, my thighs opening more, my asscheeks clenching against the chair. I’m already leaking, and with my panties out of the way, only the thong string running through my crack keeping them in place, a pool of slickness is going to form on the fucking chair.
I don’t even notice when another glass appears in front of me. My head is swimming as I eye the third drink, or is it the fourth already? I also don’t know how much Marco has seen of what’s happening under the edge of the bar, but I know that he’s aware of Zayne’s hand between my legs.
All I want is to down the glass.
“That’s it, sip your poison while I make you come for me right here on this bar stool.”
He shoves his fingers deeper inside me. If it weren’t for his powerful arm to hold me steady, the stool would rattle on the wooden floor, drawing attention. Right now the bar is too full and the patrons too loud, a few girls’ backs pressed against us as they laugh and flirt with guys. They were eyeing us like crazy when Zayne first appeared, but now it’s clear they can’t get his attention, so they resorted to being loud and pressing close, therefore creating the perfect cover.
But Ricky and Lorenzo must understand exactly what’s going on. Their bodyguards keep moving people out of the way so they can maintain a direct visual line to us. We’re at the corner of the bar opposite their table, patrons strolling in and out of the way.
“Is this really necessary?” I breathe, all in a desperate attempt to save face.
“They need to understand just how invested I am in your protection.” Then, so close that his lips touch my ear. “That you belong to me.”
God, I want to turn my head and press my mouth to his. Feel him, just once. But that would be the princess stealing a kiss from the prince, and that’s not how the story goes.
Not to mention that this is an evil prince fingering me, his thumb teasing my clit while his fingers thrust hard and rough inside my pussy.
I hold on tight to the counter and my now empty glass, making it impossible for Marco to replace it, while also using it as a kind of anchor. But holding on to myself becomes increasingly difficult with this man finger-banging me relentlessly. He’s cruel, vicious, yet I open my legs more, as far as my knees will go between the wood-paneled wall on one side and his leg on the other. I can see the lines of his muscled thigh through his black pants, and can’t help wondering how come a man like him is still single, and giving orgasms to random women in bars.
But wait. He never said he was single.
“Doesn’t your way of staking claims bother your girlfriend?” I pant.
“Who says I have a girlfriend?” His voice is low, controlled, but tinged with a dark kind of want that scares me, making the finest hairs stand up on my arms.
“You must. I mean–”
He grabs my pussy with his whole hand, his palm cupping my slit, three fingers gliding inside. I bite hard into my lip in order to keep from screaming, heat blasting up into my cheeks. My sight is swimming, the two men watching us doubling in my eyes. The people on their laps are licking them drunkenly, the girl going low on the bony Lorenzo, obviously about to take his cock out and put it in her mouth. Needless to say, it draws everyone’s attention, deflecting even the focus of the few who suspected of Zayne and me doing something.
“Why don’t you just enjoy the live show,” Zayne says to me. “I’m sure you’ll find it to your liking. Two of the baddest thugs in New York fucking for your entertainment, doesn’t that make you feel like a boss?”
