Page 22 of The Killer Card

“It usually works on mortals,” he smirks and I allow him a grin. “You don’t seem surprised to see me.”

Raising my wine to my lips I shrug. “I’m not.”

I noticed him last week and the week before that and the week before that. I noticed him more after we’d officially met at El Rincón, but I never give chase. If I intrigued him then I would let him come to me and then decide if I was willing to play. So far all I’m willing to do is tolerate his presence. He’s attractive, takes care of himself very well for a man pushing forty. He knows how to wear a suit despite his profession and there’s something both gentle and feral about him that intrigues me in ways not many can.

“How long have you known I come here?” He asks, allowing his eyes to follow the lines of my curves.

“Always.” I turn back to the bar. “And I know exactly what you get up to, Gray. Stupid name by the way.” He’s anything but dull with his bright green eyes and fuchsia tie.

For a moment I think I’ve offended him. Except he doesn’t leave. He leans an elbow on the bar next to me, “And what name do you go by here?”

I take my time to look over his suit and fix his tie clip before answering, “Mine.”

“Really?” He scoffs. “You go by your actual name?”

“I do.”

“And what, pray tell,” I raise a brow. “Gives you the right to bend the club’s rules, which clearly state mandatory anonymity.”

I smile at him the way you smile at a child who just can’t seem to understand the square peg goes in the square hole. “Because, Gray, my brother owns The Pink Flamingo.”

He blinks slowly. “Qué?”

Sighing I reach for my handbag, taking out my wallet holding out a black and gold business card for one, “Nathaniel Mychal,” I say as he reads. “Owner and operator of The Pink Flamingo Bar and Lounge.” I drink my wine while he assesses the validity of the cardstock.

“You just carry your brother’s business card around?” His tone is disbelieving. He doesn’t trust easily. That’s good, because neither do I.

“It carries some weight.” I snatch it back. “I have my father’s too if you’d like to see it?”

Snorting, he flags down the bartender. “No, thank you. I know perfectly well who the senator is.”

“I bet you do,” I mutter around the rim of my glass.

That quip earns me a glare. “The fuck is that supposed to mean.”

“Careful, Gray,” I tell him, calmly setting my glass on the bar. The bartender refills it. He sets down a glass of Scotch in front of Graham. “It doesn’t fare well for you to lose your temper in a place like this.” I glance at his wrist band, the same pink as his tie. “Especially when you are so obviously looking for someone to tame you.”

His eyes flare with heat and there is just enough light for me to watch the outline of his cock thicken in his slacks. I’ve been with my fair share of men- probably a shocking number for someone my age- but seeing how quickly his body responds to my teasing makes my skin flush and those mythical butterflies flutter in my belly.

“Maybe losing my temper is exactly the right way to get their attention then.” He leans in a little closer, his breath ghosting along the shell of my ear and I can’t fight the shiver that arrests my spine. “Are you willing, mi reina? I’m in need a good whipping.”

The thought of a man his size kneeling, cuffed, his flesh bared and striped raw while his cock weeps for my merciful touch—

No. Absolutely not.

Pushing away from him, I take my fresh glass of wine and my handbag from the counter. “Sorry, Gray,” I tell him, giving him my back. Instantly I feel his eyes on my ass. “You’re not worth the trouble it would cause me.”

“Come on,” he begs, trailing after me like a puppy. “I’ll be so good for you. I promise, I won’t brat even once. You know you want me too, don’t lie to me—”

Turning sharply, I snap my fingers, pointing at the floor. He freezes. Then, in the middle of the crowded club, Graham sinks to his knees in front of me. He sits on his heels, palms up, and immediately lowers his gaze to my feet. Goddammit, he does look very pretty like this. He’s had years of experience in a world I’m relatively new to and he’s sparking my interest to not only tame but to explore my proclivities deeper than I’ve been allowed thus far. What sorts of things could a man like him show me about all the desires I’ve only just started discovering in the last few years?

But then I remember Nelly and the absolute mess she was after leaving the club on Friday. I can’t afford to get close to Graham so long as she’s fucked up over his best friend. It would be too messy, and I have enough to juggle without a needy, secret boy toy on top of that.

With my handbag under his chin, I lift his eyes to meet mine. “I have no doubt you would be good, Graham Cracker. I am sure you’d please me greatly.”

God, his eyes are fucking gorgeous, green as leaves and so fucking eager. His attention is intimidating, so focused and sure of what he wants and what he wants is me. Not that he’s the first, but there’s just something about him that makes me actually sad to have to walk away.

I lower my bag to my side. “I’m sorry,” I tell him, genuinely. “But this crosses a line for both of us. You know it does.”