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We used to call him The Joker when we were kids, because of the way The Joker always did that lick of his lips with his fucked-up mouth. That’s what Lucas does.
“I once kept someone because she smelled too sweet. Cotton candy.” Lucas makes a show at sniffing the air. “But then her smell died, and so did she.” He smiles at Sailor as he speaks, then licks his lips and takes a step closer to her. I think she’s going to scream for help, back away from him, anything to keep her distance. Instead, she leans in close so he can smell her.
“I smell of musk, probably taste like it too. Let’s ask.” She looks over Lucas’s shoulder and straight at me. “Do I taste like musk?” Every person in the room goes silent at her question, and I can feel them all waiting for my answer.
“The sweetest,” I reply with a lick of my lips.
The guys hoot and holler while she winks at me, then looks back to Lucas.
“Have you had someone who tastes like musk before?” she asks him, and her words pull a surprise smile on my lips. Who is this woman and where has she been hiding? I stare at Sailor as she crosses her legs showcasing that leg full of ink and can’t keep my eyes off it, wondering if I should trace every tattoo line with my tongue.
“I’m always willing to try.”
“Lucas.” My voice is stern as I watch him move toward her. I know if he touches her, he will bruise her because Lucas is into pain. Lots of it, he revels in it.
So do we all.
But him?
Well, his lovers end up dead.
Every. Single. Time.
No exceptions.
Chapter Fourteen
Sailor
Dinner was interesting. Half the guests are still drinking—it’s something they all do once a month, I was informed—and the other half is slowly getting up to leave.
“The women are invited tomorrow night. Are you ready to meet them?” The words come from Roberto, who, I might add, speaks to me the most. Sometimes it’s crude comments, but I’ve figured that’s just how he rolls.
“Am I invited to that?” I ask him but look to Keir. As far as I know, I was only invited for dinner tonight, and I thought even that was a stretch. I can see why, though. It was supposed to be for the men only, and that’s true to form. I guess I could have stayed in his room, but for some reason Keir invited me. And who am I to turn down a nice dinner with his ...
… whatever they are?
“You are.”
I stand, adjusting my skirt as I do, then look around the table. “Goodnight, everyone. Thanks again for dinner and the company.” I leave, not looking back and head straight to his room. When I shut the door behind me, my eyes close as I lean against it. The minute they do, Keir enters my head, and it’s me, up against the shower wall again, his cock inside of me, fucking me exactly how I need to be fucked.
Pure pleasure.
And not what I expected, or like anything I’ve had in a long time.
Opening my eyes, my gaze falls to his closet. I haven’t gone back in there since that day he came out with the mysterious wand-like thing. My days here are coming to an end, and I want to know what it was that I turned down. Opening the first drawer, I find nothing but socks. I move them around to make sure I’m not missing anything, then I do the same with the next drawer’s contents. Nothing. When I crouch down to open the last drawer, my hands pause, and I suck in a quick breath.
This drawer contains no clothes. No, it’s full of … toys? Reaching for the object he wanted to use on me, I pull it out.
“It electrifies and will increase the effects of your orgasm.” I almost fall backward as I whip around to see Keir at the door to his closet, observing me. I didn’t even hear him come in he’s so stealthily quiet.
“You electrify what?” I ask, confused.
Keir steps over, takes it from my hand and places a glass top on it, then turns it on.
“Take off your skirt.” I shake my head. “Take it off. Trust me, you’ll love it.”
“I don’t think you should use … you and trust, in the same sentence,” I add, pulling myself up to stand.
“You do trust me, though. At least enough to touch your most intimate areas. You like it when I fuck you, both with my mouth and cock. So, drop the fucking skirt and stop being a Puttana.”
“Don’t you have a party to be at?” I sass back at him knowing full well what he just called me.
Keir shakes his head and steps toward me, reaching for my skirt and pulling it down with one hand. I try to evade him, but stop when I decide I do want to try.
