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"Thank you, sugar." I smirk, walking away from her.
Just as I'm about to enter the club again, she calls out for me, saying, "Wait!"
I turn over my shoulder as she catches up with me, eyes wide. She hesitates, but I can tell there's a question on the tip of her tongue.
"Just say it." I grin.
"Do you... do you have more?" Fearfully, she raises her sweet eyes to mine.
"You saw my wallet, didn't you?" She nods, swallowing. "How much more do you need?"
She stares into my eyes, her bottom lip trembling as she whispers, "A-All of it. P-Please."
I want to laugh out loud, but at the same time, I'm consumed with fucking guilt. This shit doesn't happen to me. I don't have a moral code, yet this girl is making me question my actions just by batting her lashes at me.
"What are you going to do for it?"
"I..." She bites her bottom lip, perfect pearly whites digging into her juicy little mouth. "Whatever you want."
I shouldn't go along with this. She's not even fucking twenty-one. She doesn't deserve for me to destroy her life, yet I can't stop myself. I want her. And she'll be rewarded, after all. It's not like I'm taking advantage.
"You got private rooms here?" I grunt.
"Yeah," she whispers.
"Let's go."
She walks ahead of me with purpose. But I don't miss the tremble of her hands when she retrieves a key card from behind the counter. I don't miss the way her eyes keep darting around the room. I don't missany-fucking-thing.
Unlike her, I'm calm as fucking ever. I follow her upstairs down a long hallway with several doors. She opens one of them and steps inside, and I follow her in. The room's a pretty basic BDSM dungeon with a huge heart-shaped bed and various implements and equipment peppered around the place. I can already think of a fewveryfucking fun things to do to Monroe in here.
"W-What do you want to do?" she stutters, flushing.
"I want you to make me another drink." I shrug off my jacket and place it on the bed. "Turn on some music. I'm going to watch you."
She nods, eyes avoiding mine as she puts on some sensual music through the speakers. She starts mixing a drink at the bar in the corner of the room, but she's so nervous a glass slips from her hand and shatters on the floor.
"Fuck," she whispers, leaning down to pick it up.
"Leave it."
"No, but I—"
"Leave it."
She obeys, and it pleases me. My cock is as hard as a goddamn rock right now, picturing her doing more for me, submitting to me. I wonder how fucking often she does this. How many times has she let a stranger pay for a kiss, a blow job, a fuck? I don't give a shit about any of the others before me. Tonight, Monroe is my property.
I hand her another glass. "Drink, please."
She takes a deep breath and mixes another old-fashioned. She hands me the drink, and our fingers brush as I take it from her. I sit down on a leather armchair and watch her nervously fidgeting with the hem of her tight little dress.
"Don't you want to...?" She flushes at the sound of her own words. "You know..."
I shake my head. "Not yet. First, you're going to do something for me."
Taking out my wallet, I place it on my knee. It's bulging from the number of bills inside, and Monroe eyes it hungrily.
"What do you want me to do?" she asks in a soft whisper.
"I want you to dance," I say firmly. "I want you to look me right in the eyes, strip off your clothes, and dance for me. If you're a good girl, I'll give you more money. And other things, too. But you'll have to ask for it."
Her eyes flash with anger. "You want me to beg for money?"
"No, sugar." I smirk. "I want you to beg for my cock."
