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The guy glanced to where I’d looked, but it wasn’t King at all. I must have imagined it. Shit.
“Sure,” he laughed, looking back to me. “I know everyone, princess. No one you know is a threat to me. Now get the fuck over here and sit on my lap before I drag you over by your hair.”
And then there was a fist in his face.
And blood splattered his expensive shirt.
He stumbled to the floor and the bouncer who was helping him moments earlier just stared.
“I am so sorry, sir,” he said in a shaky voice. A man of his stature looked ridiculous apologizing like that. “We had no idea she was with you…”
“You’re fucking done,” a familiar voice barked at him. “And this joke. Get him out of my face before you leave or I’ll beat you both into a fucking pulp.”
The bouncer picked up the club owner and half-carried him out of the booth. A hand gripped my forearm and I cried out from the pain… and the relief. He pulled me flush against his body, and my ass pressed against his crotch.
“Big mistake, Pet,” he muttered. “Big fucking mistake.”
We stood there, frozen, for what felt like hours. I couldn’t even hear the music or the sounds of the club. All that mattered was him, and that he’d found me, come back for me, saved me.
“Take me home,” I begged as his fingers ran down my spine. It felt like I was naked in my tiny dress and the stupid heels.
He didn’t say a word. Just kept standing behind me until my whole body was shivering, begging for release, just from feeling his breath on my neck.
“Walk over to the bar,” he whispered into my ear, his hands circling my waist. My body would have responded even if I hadn’t wanted to.
I forced myself to rip my hips out of his arms. I didn’t look back over my shoulder as I walked to the bar, but I felt him follow me slowly.
His voice was soft in my ear.
“Place your hands on the bar,” he said. “Palms down.”
I hesitated and it made him growl in my ear.
“Fucking right now.”
My hands flew up and I placed them on the bar. It was cold and sticky from spilled drinks. It felt like everyone was staring at me, so I focused my eyes on the bar and pretended I wasn’t dying of embarrassment.
King came up behind me. Really close, his crotch touching my ass.
“Bend over,” he told me, and I obeyed with my mind reeling. “Order a drink for me.”
I tried to get the bartender’s attention when I felt King’s hands on my ass. He tugged on the hem of my too-short dress and pulled it up unceremoniously. I gasped so loud I was sure everyone could hear it over the thumping music. He pulled my dress above my ass, his body hiding it from other people’s sight. His hands slid over my ass, long, sweet stroking motions that made me swallow my gasp.
“What did you want, miss?”
I could barely look at the bartender as King’s fingers slipped between my legs, outlining the wet lips of my pussy.
“I…” I just stared at him.
“Go on,” King whispered in my ear. “Order me a drink, Pet.”
“An Old Fashioned,” I gasped.
The guy nodded and King fucked my pussy with three fingers. I clenched around him and he pressed his groin closer, hiding what he was doing.
“Don’t you dare fucking come,” he growled in my ear. “If you do, you’ll only make things worse for yourself.”
“Please,” I whispered. “Just take me home. Please, I just want to go home, I want to be with you…”
“Sure didn’t seem that way to me, slut,” he grinned against my skin, his fingers fucking me deeper and making me mewl out loud. Thank God for the music. Thank God for the noise.
He finger-fucked me almost maliciously and I gripped the bar for dear life. The bartender returned what felt like hours later and gave me a look. I guess from where he was standing, King just looked like another customer at the already full bar. He probably had no idea what he was doing to me.
“Here you go, sweetheart,” he said with a big smile. “Little young to be here, aren’t you?”
“I…” I swallowed again, grabbing the drink. “It’s not for me.”
King’s fingers curled up inside me and my legs nearly gave out.
“Whose is it?” the guy asked and I nearly shouted at him to fuck off.
King took the drink from the bar and grinned at the guy, taking a sip. His fingers went so deep my knees buckled, and he held me up by my waist.
“Mine,” he said simply, and I rolled my eyes back as he pulled his fingers out and put my dress back in place.
He finished his drink and I stood there shaking. Then, he gripped my forearm and led me out of the bar. His fingers held on tightly enough for me to know he was going to leave a mark.
