Page 3 of His Retribution

The guy he’s with, I have never seen before. I can tell my puddin pop is apprehensive. His body is squared off, unreceptive of him, untrusting. I admire his face from where I stand. You wouldn’t even know the two of them were having a conversation from the way he’s staring at me. His lip is pulled up into a sly smile in one corner, and I have yet to see him look away. Then he blinks and his eyes snap past me fixated on something I can’t see. His fingers form a fist as his knuckles turn white. He looks angry, but I can’t tell why. I shouldn’t take my eyes off him but I feel the need to see what has him so worked up. Following his gaze towards the bar I see it. There’s a group of men there and they are all watching me. I gulp, there’s no telling what he might do. I resume staring at Christian, throwing my head back provocatively as I do. There’s no reason not to enjoy the extra audience members. I am tempting Christian’s self control and I know it is a dangerous game, but danger is my middle name, and I love the thrill of a dangerous situation.

His arm goes up and he snaps his fingers. The man next to him stops talking. He nods his chin towards the men at the bar and soon they are escorted by burley men in suites and invited to sit at Christian’s table. My heartbeat quickens as I watch him point a finger at me, motioning for me to come to him. I do as he commands, taking extra care to look damn near irresistible as I walk.

“Mon Bijou.” He smirks as he says the words in a perfect, sultry French accent. The sound of his voice drips with adoration for one thing and one thing only, me. “These men are interested in watching you dance.” His lips curl around each word. He has a dangerous look in his eyes. “There’s just one problem, mon amour,they haven’t paid for the show.”

“You heard the man Boys, you gotta pay the lady.” I wink and throw my head back with laughter.

“I’m sorry boss. I don’t need a show. I can watch something else,” he whimpers as he shakily places a few bills on the table.

It’s too late for these guys. They’re already in for it which only makes me smile more. Christian throws the table, upending everything and sending the men careening back in their chairs. Everything around us goes silent and still as he stands. It’s an impressive sight. Jacket tight, jaw clenched, shoulders back. He looks like a sexy nightmare, because he is. Christian is my sexy nightmare. The men lay still like the cockroaches they are, as Christian makes his way towards them, the glass crunching beneath his feet. When he arrives in front of the men he looks down at them.

“Stand up, on your feet. What the hell is wrong with you guys? Fuck!” Christian snaps. “My apologies, mon ange. You can go back to dancing.” His mouth may be sweet but his eyes are fucking me dirty.

If he thinks I am going to play along, then he is in for a treat. “I prefer to watch,” I respond with a pur. I can see the delight in his eyes and the sexual tension bubbling between us, but this is all still just foreplay.

“As you wish.” Christian dips his chin and turns his attention back towards the men. He flicks a blade from his pocket and holds the tip against the first man’s cheek. He digs it in ever so slightly until a drop of blood springs forth, trickling down the silver blade. “I should take your eye as payment,” he hisses in the man’s ear.

It turns me on watching him so controlled, and yet so ruthless. Ruling with an iron fist, setting boundaries, and staking his claim. The man blubbers and cries, begging for his eye. When he stops begging Christian pulls the blade from his face, and laughs, once more drawing the attention back to himself.

“It was only a joke,” he muses. “Now, you boys run along and have a good time. And boys, one more thing,” he tenses with a smile. “Next time you want to enjoy something, be sure you can afford to pay for it.” He turns to look at me.

“Did you enjoy the show?” He asks, walking over to drape his arm around me and kiss my cheek.

I fall into him, grabbing hold of his collar and yanking his lips to mine. I devour him with a combination of long deep kisses and short sultry ones in between. His strong walls are crumbling down as he comes undone. When he pulls away his exterior is impenetrable once more. A snap of his fingers in the air and the man who calls himself, Le Manchot is back to groveling at his feet.

“Leave us for tonight,” Christian commands. “We will talk again soon.”

Christianlooksatmewith a devilish smirk. “Where were we, mon chérie?” He asks. His French sends me close to the edge. I’m trying to remain cool, calm, and collected, but this man makes it damn near impossible. I have all the control in the world when I torture him flirtatiously. The minute he joins the game, though, I melt. My body remembers everything he is capable of, and my ears remember that filthy mouth, so succulent and soft. I feel Christian’s fingers trailing lightly across my jawline, tempting me to get lost in him. His mouth is against my ear. “Anything you want, mon bijou. I only live to serve you,” he growls.

“What about your friend, Le Manchot?” I ask as I press my hand against his chest.

Christian pulls me hard against him. The tips of his fingers press roughly into the small of my back, commanding our closeness and my attention. His other strokes my cheek, forcing me to stare into his deep, soul-crushing eyes. “Forget him. I don’t want to hear his name on those pretty lips ever again. Do you understand me?”

“Maybe,” I reply in a breathy voice. I’m tempting him again, pushing all the right buttons until all of his control is gone.

“You forget what I am capable of doing to you. It would be in your best interest to do what I ask,” his deep voice rumbles.

My hand reaches down to grip him tightly. I squeeze him as I ask, “Is it in my best interest or yours?” I can feel him strain against my grip. He moans so low only my ears can hear.

“If you keep going, I will be forced to bend you over a table right now and fuck you so hard you regret challenging me.” His words are menacing. He means every single one of them.

“Do it!” I challenge him a second time. “I am beginning to think you’re all bark and no bite. All these threats to have your way with me, and yet your hands seem to have a different agenda.”

“Mmmmm, I will show you how bad my bite is later. I don’t want to give you the satisfaction of putting on a show for all our guests. What would daddy say? Tsk, tsk, tsk. That’s no way for a beautiful girl like you to behave.” He seems to have an arsenal of tantalizing replies.

“I hear daddy, no longer makes the rules for me. He seems to have left someone else in charge.” I nip sensually at his ear before allowing a small giggle of delight to surface. Teasing this man never gets old.

“Fuck, you will be the death of me, I swear woman,” he groans as his hands skim my body.

Soon we are grinding to the music, and I want nothing more than to remove the clothing that separates us. I can sense he wants it just as bad, if not more, than I do. It isn’t long before his filthy mouth is back to whispering dirty nothings in my ear. When the song ends I remind him, “You said anything for me earlier. I am ready to go. I need to have you, even if it’s only a taste.”

“Your wish is my command, mon bijou.” Christian throws his chin in the other direction then leads me towards the stairs so we can leave. We are almost to the landing when I hear a sharp, catty voice from behind us.

“Leaving so soon.”

I ignore the voice. They are only here to cause trouble. I remind myself.

“Aww, how cute. You’re pretending not to hear me.”

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