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She did all the work, unbuckling his pants, licking him, teasing his balls. With his eyes on the stage, she took him deep, her head doing a slow bob as he leaned back in his chair.
He wasn’t happy about the situation, which meant he struggled to physically enjoy the process, but he kept his eye on the prize: proving to the Starlin spies that he’d adopted the slaver way of life.
She paused for a moment, looking up at him, and whispered. “You’re legendary, master.” She rubbed her thumb slowly over his crown. “Take me home, later? My owner won’t even charge, not if he knows it’s you.”
Her words pleased the hell out of him, not because she applauded his sexual prowess, but because she’d inadvertently told him that her owner would treat him just like he did all the big boys at Starlin. He’d worked a helluva long time to achieve this position, spending a large portion of his fortune securing the goodwill of the various club owners.
He smiled and leaned close to bite her ear, sinking his teeth hard until he tasted blood on his tongue. He repressed the part of him that wanted more of the sweet-tasting elixir, that wanted a deep draw at her throat, then sat back once more.
She looked up at him again, her lips swollen as she breathed hard, clearly enjoying his attentions. “Please, master.”
“We’ll see. Take care of me now and we’ll discuss terms.”
She smiled and went back to work, head bobbing once more.
His hatred of the sex-slave world went deep, so to sustain his arousal, he let his mind drift into dangerous waters: into the recent past when he’d seen Angelica at the Ocean Club.
The mere thought of her brought pleasure flowing and his h*ps flexing slightly.
Angelica.
She’d be his salvation in this heinous situation; images of her would see him through.
He recalled her red dress and the most beautiful display of cle**age he’d seen in a long time. She had looked so damn sexy, so beautiful when he’d first seen her sitting at the bar, her long legs crossed at the knee, her gaze fixed on him. He’d recognized the invitation and wished like hell he could have taken her up on it, taken her home, made love to her. God knew, he’d wanted to.
The more he focused on those memories, the more his body responded, so he stayed with them. She’d looked even prettier up close, with large brown eyes, made up just right, her lips shiny with gloss. Then she’d kissed him, one of the biggest surprises of his life. He’d wanted to keep on kissing her, to lay a line of kisses across the mounds of her br**sts, to run his hands up her dress, to sink his fingers deep inside her wetness.
He moaned and the mouth that worked him sucked just a little harder, a little faster, a perfect response.
He saw Angelica naked, her layered hair shoved behind her creamy shoulders, her throat exposed, pulse beating in her neck.
Desire flowed as he saw nothing but her, imagining the feel of her br**sts beneath his fingers and his mouth sucking each nipple repeatedly until her body responded with heavy undulations.
With these thoughts, pleasure soared. He cupped the back of the slave’s head. She knew the signal and sucked faster. But his mind was full of Angelica now, her long legs, his knees spreading them wide. He was over her now, pushing his c**k inside, pumping into her, faster and faster.
His lower back tightened and the release came, streaking like lightning through his cock.
Angelica.
She was the one. The one he’d wanted, desired, needed.
As his pleasure peaked he groaned, not caring if he was heard above all the other sounds in the club.
Angelica.
His breathing slowed and he leaned back in the chair, his mind still spinning with the images he’d created.
He frowned as he thought of Angelica, of how much he wanted her, how much he wished she were here right now, with him. That would never happen, of course, not in a million years.
After a moment the slave leaned back on her heels. She gently tucked him inside his briefs, zipped him up, fumbled with the button, then buckled his belt. All neat and tidy.
Though she smiled, he saw her drawn cheeks, the pinch at the corner of each eye as she worked to hold back her emotions. He knew what it was to be in her position, to have to engage sexually on demand, often several times a night.
Fuck this horrible situation and the way this slave had been brutalized. He took her chin in hand and, leaning down, he whispered in her ear, “You brought me beautifully. Thank you.”
When he leaned back again in his seat, her dark eyes grew haunted and she spoke quickly. “Master, please buy me. I would give anything to serve in your house. I know my owner would allow it. Like I said, he’d do anything for you. He says you’re to be the next Starlin member. Please. I need to get out of here.”
He felt her desperation, but with the Starlin boys watching him, he still had his role to play.
He steeled himself and took on a bored expression. “All I want from you right now is another Maker’s Mark, neat.”
The light of hope died swiftly in the woman’s eyes. She nodded, rising to her feet and moving away as fast as her shackled ankles would allow.
He made himself a promise that as soon as he brought Starlin down, he’d start destroying clubs like this one until they were all gone and slavery was a thing of the past in his world.
Thank God he’d been able to warn Angelica away from the Ocean Club. What she didn’t know, what he hadn’t been able to tell her, was that she perfectly fit the bill for Starlin acquisition. Not just because of her beauty, but more important because she had no money to speak of and her closest relative was infirm.
Earlier in the year he’d seen the Starlin team scoping her, so he’d done his own surface investigation and learned the basic details of her life. He understood her vulnerability. Fortunately, at least until a few days ago, she’d stopped coming to the club and he’d been relieved.
But the moment he’d seen her, he knew she was in danger. She’d never looked more beautiful or sexier and the Starlin team had already arrived, hunting for the right women to snatch.
He’d watched her leave the club, then he’d taken off in the opposite direction, heading back to his home in Italy. He just hoped to hell that in the future she’d stay away. The one thing he’d learned was that the acquisition teams worked clubs almost exclusively, all over the world, grabbing women and sometimes men to sell at auction. Witnesses at clubs were notoriously unreliable—another perfect aspect of the whole setup.
His server returned with his drink, but her eyes were now passive, no longer pleading. She moved away slower this time. He felt her despair like a palpable weight in the air, but he kept his gaze fixed on the stage.
