AllFreeNovel
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I’ve never had to remind myself of where I am. Never. Fucking comes natural. It’s been my escape for too many years to count, where I’ve thrown a new partner down and drove inside without caring how many eyes are on me. Yet when I break the kiss and circle around Layla, shoving her out of the darkness and into the light at the center of the stage, I have to remind myself of the audience.
That there are eyes out there on us.
Because this whole setup feels like it’s just for me.
I take a slow breath and move behind her. She’s perfectly still beneath me and allows me to keep her hands to the back of the chair while I flip out my knife. I slice the tip of it through the fabric of her shirt until the two edges slowly peel away and reveal the smooth soft skin of her back.
And the clasp of the black lace bra and the clean line of her spine.
I don’t give a shit what happens after this. For this one moment, she’smine.
The realization hits me powerfully and I hide the gut-clenching reaction by bending to kiss my way along her spine. Her skin tastes like vanilla and cinnamon. She’s a sugar cookie waiting for me to devour her.
I want to do more than taste.
I want to keep her protected from the world.
I want to make her come until her anger, the mask she wears to stay safe, shatters. My control is at a breaking point.
“Trust me to take care of you,” I whisper next to her ear. “Trust me to keep you steady.”
Her lips quirk like she wants to tell me off but the heat makes it impossible. Her usual smartass retorts are nowhere to be found right now. Eventually she lifts her gaze to mine. “I trust you.”
I laugh. I want to tell her that’s the worst decision of her life.
She’s so taut and stiff it’s almost impossible to move her body.
“Don’t worry about everyone staring at you.” I trail my hand down the side of her neck before using the blade to cut through the fabric of her bra. The pieces fall apart and leave her chest bare for the rest of the audience.
When Layla gasps, I twist her up to face me and clasp her chin. Her jaw is tight.
This isn’t her. This isn’t the fearless one. This isn’t the one who knows the consequences and does whatever she fucking wants regardless.
I kick the chair aside and it slams against the side of the stage before toppling to the floor. I sink down to my knees on the stage and pull Layla down with me.
Facing me.
Settling my hands in her hair and forcing her to look at me as I dip my head to her tits to take a nipple in my mouth.
“Relax,” I murmur against her skin as I work the nub of her nipple. “Relax, Layla.”
This is heaven. Her skin is soft and golden, her areolas a dusky rose and her nipples pebbled.
This terror of hers…something got to her and I have no idea what. If she’d panicked much longer she would have blown our cover within seconds.
Taking her this quickly hadn’t been part of my plan. Not that I’m the kind of man who worries about the mental state of these women in these moments. Anyone who joins me on stage knows exactly what they’re getting into. They consent. They’re pliant and malleable.
For some reason, Layla tugs at me. This show might be for the rest of the room but in my mind…it’s for her. I carefully remove her bra one strap at a time and swallow over a laugh when she gasps.
Keep the pace slow. Keep her calm. Keep her engaged.
I drop my hand over the creamy swell of her breasts, brushing her nipples, and down lower to the top of her pants. Grabbing her by her neck the same way I did when I first met her, I guide her down, her lean body folding so that the top of her head touches the floor and her breasts bounce free. My head drops between them.
I press a kiss to one nipple, then the other, taking it in my teeth and biting down with just enough pressure to have her gasp.
I’m a murderer and a cold-blooded killer. But tonight it’s about her pleasure. About her consenting toletme pleasure her.
She’s trusting me to do this even if she hasn’t mentioned it out loud in those terms. Her being here is the signal I need.
