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The crack of the whip behind him causes the man to flinch, and then a grin lifts up the corners of his lips. I watch as his trading partner’s shoulders rise and fall with a chuckle. It’s good for Davis that Marco is so easygoing and doesn’t take any offense to the laughter. Marco turns to face the stage, watching as the woman’s skin lights a bright pink from where the leather cat-o’-nine-tails has struck her. Even from this distance, I swear I can hear the soft moans of pleasure spilling from the woman’s mouth. Her hair is pulled back tight in a bun, and the stage performer grabs it, tilting her head to devour her lips.
“It won’t be long until they’re fucking on stage,” Mia comments as the glass clinks on the counter. I glance down to see another two fingers of whiskey at the ready for me.
Downing my drink, I slide her the empty one. “I believe that’s what most of the audience is waiting for,” I respond with a smirk, although it falls as my gaze moves to Braelynn.
She barely watches, just like the rest of the servers. They work diligently, taking care of the guests who are awestruck by the entertainment.
They’re not the only ones she avoids.
It’s been three days of her staying as far from me as possible. It’s a rare moment when I catch her gaze. More than likely because I’ve hidden myself away in my office, watching her and looking into her background.
Braelynn Lennox has secrets. Not the least of which is a life she’s just run away from, and I’m aware of every sordid detail. I’m all too aware of it.
The black dress clings to her curves as she bends at the waist to collect a stray cocktail napkin that’s fallen. A deep, low groan of appreciation leaves me without my conscious consent. My eyes close slowly as I attempt to rid myself of the black lace image. Unfortunately, all I imagine in its place is what lies beneath the delicate fabric.
With the crack of the whip cutting through the perverse vision, I open my eyes and she’s right there. A foot from me, the closest she’s ever been.
Her shy smile accompanies a quick glance before she reaches past the bar to deliver a drink slip to Mia.
“Boss,” she says, greeting me like everyone else. There’s a sick coldness that settles at the tip of my tongue, capturing the warm tease I had for her.
Her black nails rap on the bar and she hesitantly peeks up at me. All I can do is stare down at her, noting every delicate detail. Including the faint blush that gathers at her neck, traveling to her cheeks and then higher, moving to her temples as she’s caught in mygaze.
“Is everything okay, Declan?” she questions in a whisper.
That deep, low groan is silent this time, and it travels lower, to my hardening cock. That’s better, my little pet.
Smirking, I lift the whiskey glass to my lips, sipping before I nod and ask her how her night is going.
“It’s something else,” she answers, swallowing hard and I don’t miss how her gaze drops to my lips before she tears it away, the applause of the audience drawing her attention to the stage.
She’s quick to bring her attention back to Mia, who hasn’t yet touched Braelynn’s slip.
I offer up an observation, testing the tension between us. “Tonight’s entertainment is one of the more popular shows.”
One look down, and it’s evident her nipples are hard. Were they like that when she walked up here? The thin lace can’t hide her desire.
She’s quiet, only nodding at my commentary. “Are you curious?” I ask her.
Her dark eyes meet mine and this time there’s fire. The flames of it consume the oxygen around us. Fuck. What that look does to me is positively sinful. The heated stare doesn’t deny the pull between us. I could get lost in that gaze of hers and abandon the boundaries we’re toying with altogether. She hesitates at my question, but settles on one of her own. “Curious or scandalized?”
“If that scandalizes you,” I start, lifting my drink to the stage, “you may want to reconsider your employment here.” It’s meant as a joke of sorts, or perhaps a warning but as she glances back at the stage, without her expression easily seen, my body heats with an anxiousness that she could leave. She could so easily walk out of those doors and never come back.
The cords in my neck tighten, but then surprise takes hold of me at her response. “Is that what you like?” she asks in a soft murmur.
Depraved thoughts filter into my mind.
The ice clinks in my glass as I face her and say, “What did you ask?” My tone is deathly low as the background music continues to play, the whip cracks and Braelynn’s eyes close, her shoulders shuddering as if the tanned leather strips had stuck against her flesh. I can imagine how her olive skin would brighten, how the rush of fresh blood would be pulled to the surface. How sensitive she’d feel on every inch I played with.
She stares back at me, seemingly unaffected as I imagine her plump lips parted with a strangled cry of pleasure. “Is that what you like?” she asks again, quieter this time, tilting her head in the direction of the stage.
The woman on the stage is wrapped tightly in rope and at Braelynn’s question, my eyes easily undress her, imagining her gorgeous tan skin decorated in black satin binds.
“If it crosses a line—”
Rather than answer her, I ask my own question. “Do you like the idea of being bound?”
“I wouldn’t know,” she answers and then glances past me, checking on Mia and the state of the drinks I imagine she’s waiting on.
