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My empty pussy throbs, moisture slicking my thighs.
I don’t even want to think about that fullness in my ass.
He places the phones on the table, and I pull up the photo. “I have to find this.”
I become aware of being watched but it’s different than those two men I noted, or the women looking at us. There’s one woman who isn’t looking with lust. Or malice. It’s more a sweep.
The pressure in the air is all Hendrick, but when I breathe in, I can’t help but feel the heat of Jac’s gaze. He’s not here. At least, I don’t see him and Jac is nothing if not noticeable.
“Tomorrow night?” he asks.
“That’s what it says. I’ve got Harry on it, but so far nothing.” She hasn’t texted my phone. “Do you have your people here?”
“No, why?”
“I feel…like security are watching me.”
His lips twitch. “You have a built-in radar for that kind of thing?”
“Yes.”
He pulls his phone out. “The piece is called Lover’s Delight. According to my source, the Mayor has it, a gift from her lover. Her husband thinks it’s a long-lost family heirloom she found.”
“You men are so easy.”
He leans in and takes my wrist, running his thumb over my pulse point. “I’m not the one with a plug up my ass and a butterfly vibrator strapped to my clit.”
“You have a clit?” I ask a little breathlessly.
Hendrick lifts my arm and kisses that spot on my inner wrist. “Sure do. It’s part of one of the most intriguing, infuriating thieves I know.”
He lets me go, watching me, and as he finishes his drink slowly the sensations grow, and I get slicker, hornier, hotter. I’m not near the edge, but I’m climbing, slowly and surely. And I hate and love him. I want to say this isn’t fair, but I know I wouldn’t have it any other way. I like it as much as it’s driving me crazy.
As he watches me move in my seat, he finally sets his empty glass down.
“Let’s dance.”
I’m a mess. A shaking, unfocused mess. And Hendrick knows it. We’re in the car heading back to Millionaire’s Way.
Hendrick is turning into a master of supreme torture. Delicate, thought out, evil.
I’m trying not to come. I’ve moved from awareness to almost too much, to uncomfortable, to frustrated, to waves of pleasure I have to keep distracting myself from.
That’s the bitch in the room with the bloody knife.
I could come.
I need to come.
I want to come more than I’ve ever wanted anything before.
Almost anything.
Because this is a game of pleasure, of need and want and sex. And I want to win. It’s borderline master and slave play, but I’m no one’s fucking slave. I like his dominance and I both hate and love the game.
It’s a real fucking bitch.
Every move is excruciating. I’m aware of every single part of me, the way my anus holds on to the damn plug. The shift of my thighs and how they affect my clit. The utter emptiness of my pussy. The tingling and every single cell of my clit. Inside me and out. I feel it all.
