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“You’re very beautiful. But you already know that, don’t you?”
She bites her lip.
“And perhaps we’re both forgetting the reason you’re here.”
“Judge—”
“Turn around and put your hands against the wall.”
Goose bumps rise along her arms as she stares up at me, trying to understand what’s happening. I’m not sure myself, to be honest. But I can’t have her asking questions about my past. About the wound that almost killed me. So I will distract us both. And I’ll put her firmly on the opposite side of the boxing ring while I’m at it because that’s safer for her. For both of us.
“Do it.”
She turns, hands shaking a little as she sets them against the wall.
“Now walk backward but keep your hands where they are.”
“Judge, I—”
“Don’t stop until I tell you.” I give her space and watch as she does what I say, her fingertips trailing down the wall as she moves her feet farther from it, bending at the hips. “Stop,” I tell her when her torso is parallel to the floor. “Spread your legs wider.”
She glances back at me, eyes nervous but curious. She spreads her legs to shoulder width.
“Wider.”
She hesitates but then does it, and from between her ass cheeks, I see the inviting mound of her sex. The glistening pink folds of her lips open. The tiny shadow of her other hole.
I swallow hard, pressing my palm against the length of my erection before moving closer to her and sliding my fingernails over the curve of her hip. With my other hand, I take a handful of hair and twist it around my fist. I press myself against her ass.
She gasps, but I don’t move. Let her feel me. Let her know exactly the beast she’s toying with.
“This is what the women at the Cat House do for me,” I say in a low voice. “For starters. And anything else I ask.”
Nothing. Not a word.
I tug the fistful of hair, straightening her, and wrap my other hand around her stomach to hold her to me.
“Is this what you wanted? You are curious about the Cat House.”
“Let go.”
I hold her tighter. “Tell me.” She shudders as my breath caresses her ear. “Tell me, Mercedes.”
“So I’m no different than a whore to you?” she asks instead of answering me, but I do hear the tremble of her voice.
I bring my jaw to her cheek. I haven’t shaved yet, and I rub the scruff of it against her soft skin. “No, little monster. You are nothing like them. But you are impulsive and spoiled and arrogant. Those things I will break you of.”
“Let me go.”
“You sure you want that?”
“Let go, you fucker.”
I snort and tug her head backward, forcing a cry from her. “Do I scare you?”
“What the hell do you want from me?” she yells.
“Are you ready to listen?”
