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Is it punishment about Jac?
I don’t know what I expected with Hendrick. Him not to care that I fucked Jac again? They’re really more alike in some ways.
When he guessed where and how Jac fucked me, he was spot on. Jac fucked me that way to mark his territory, to try and wipe out the mark of Hendrick.
It’s impossible. Jac could never do that. Just like Hendrick could never make me not want Jac.
They’re both men who dominate. They hate each other. And they fucking hate the fact I want them both.
My heart twists itself inside out when I look up at Hendrick. He’s so beautiful, and that darkness of his which lurks in his sophistication, his clever tongue is something I crave. Just like I crave his dirty, filthy, rough side. I could spend forever on his arm, under him, on him. I’d never get bored.
And…
I’d also want Jac. His brand of danger. His nasty, violent side. His brutality when he spins his vitriolic filth. His cock.
Both their cocks.
I sweep my gaze around, my head so full of all these tumbling emotions and thoughts that I almost miss it.
A man, staring at us.
Our eyes touch, and the man smiles and goes back to his conversation. He’s about fifty or so, graying hair, fit.
“Hendrick?”
He glances at me.
“That man, at three o’clock with the martini glass. Do you know him?”
Hendrick doesn’t move his head, but his eyes slide in that direction. “No, but he’s with a member of the Kincaid family.”
“Do you think it’s important?”
“Right now, everything is important.” He pauses as the waiter leads us to the table. “There are all kinds of people here. Corrupt politicians. The very rich, which is a given but it’s the type of rich.”
“I know the kind of place this is,” I say when take our seats and are left alone again.
He leans back, a study of confident perfection, his understated style draws female gazes, ones I don’t know if he notes. Jac would. Jac lives to be watched and admired. To see what he can take at any given time. Hendrick isn’t like that, even though I know he’s just as depraved as Jac.
“Let me guess, the times you’ve been to places like this are times you’ve blended in. To study a victim? Case them more than their place, which I’m sure you would already know about. I know you got hold of blueprints of my mansion.”
I narrow my eyes, and he smiles.
“I know a lot of fucking things, Cat. And you’re someone who learns more by studying the person you’re going to rob. Did you study me?”
“You know I did.”
I expect him to push it, delve into it. Not for his ego’s sake, but to understand things on a deeper level, but he doesn’t.
He seems to change the subject, and as the fucker starts to speak, the lowest vibration starts against my clit. It more than bearable, it just makes me more sharply aware of what he’s done to me, like I’m his living, breathing toy.
“Someone who believes a collection of jewels will give them power over me and Jac and the Quinate would come here. But I’m interested in anyone who looks at us,” he continues.
“Plenty of people do.”
“Cat, I brought you here for your skills. And even when I play with you, torture you, you’re casing the people. You can’t help it. That part of you is bone deep. So when we get home, you’ll list them all, positions, features, something that’ll let me know.”
I frown. “How—”
