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She walked away; his eyes glued to the sway of her hips in the skirt that clung to her ass. Holy shit. His little bird was kinky as fuck.
He glanced at the clock, his leg jumping up and down as he waited for the time to change. “Fuck it.” He drained the rest of his beer before tossing a twenty on the bar top and making his way to the elevators, black and gold key card in hand. He had to slide his card into a reader on the elevator panel after pushing the button for the penthouse suite. He didn’t even want to know how much a place like this cost for the night.
The elevator opened to the suite itself. He walked in. It was somewhat similar to the one they’d stayed in before, with white marble floors and white walls, but this one had high ceilings and the room was huge, seemingly taking up the entire top floor. Expensive-looking pictures and furnishings decorated the huge lounge area. Past the plush white carpet and black couches with gold pillows stood the silhouette of a goddess—or fallen angel. She turned around, her hands on the buttons of her blouse.
Link stepped forward, holding out his palm to halt her movements.
Emma—or Candy—tilted her head to the side in question.
“You’re mine for the night, huh?” he asked.
“Yours.”
“To do whatever I want with?”
She gave him a sultry smile, her eyes flaming with lust. “Anything . . . except I don’t do the whole peeing-on-each-other thing—I’m not into that kind of humiliation.” Her nose wrinkled in disgust.
He barked out a burst of laughter at the cute expression. “Got it. No piss. But if there’s anything you don’t like, just tell me to stop or slow down. ’Kay?”
She bit her lip, giving him a once-over. “I can take whatever you have to give me. I mean it. Use me.”
God. Fucking. Damn it. This woman was trying to kill him.
24
Emma
Emma held her breath, waiting as the air between them grew thick with anticipation.
Link’s eyes lit up with dark hunger. The intensity of his stare was unnerving.
Since yesterday, she’d sensed a chaos of grief inside him. A violent energy raged like a storm in his every inhale. Pain bled from his gaze. She recognized it because it was the same inside her. And she knew the temporary cure—control. He needed just a piece of escape, and she could give that to him. Giving him dominance over her body would give him some relief, and in return, she could shove her pain down just a little longer. She’d deal with it later . . . someday. Right now, she couldn’t afford to feel anything but his wicked perusal lashing the exposed skin of her neck and cleavage. She’d stuff it all back into the dam around her heart and hope it held just a little longer.
Link gripped the soft fabric of her shirt and ripped it apart, sending buttons scattering across the floor. Emma gasped, the swell of her breasts rising and falling as heat rose in her neck. Her nipples instantly hardened at his savage treatment.
His gaze never left hers, searching her face as if to continually seek consent.
“Don’t stop now.” She gave him a sly smile.
His chest heaved up and down as he growled, “I bet if I slipped my fingers inside you right now, you’d be wet for me. Wouldn’t you, you little slut?”
A thrill shot through her, seeping moisture into her panties. She swallowed hard. “Yes.”
He traced the webbed leather bondage bra—though it could hardly be called that—wrapped around her breasts, covering nothing. His eyes traveled down her waist to the tiny skirt she’d picked out from one of the many stores she’d visited, all in preparation for this moment.
“Such a bad girl. Wonder what I’m gonna find under here.” His voice was like honeyed lava—sweet and hot—building her desire with every rough syllable.
“Why don’t you find out?” she challenged.
Link gripped her hips and spun her around roughly. Her hands reached out and pressed into the cool glass. The whole city was laid out before them on the other side. The people below had no idea what they were doing. But a part of her wished they did. Wished some might even see them. God, I’m fucked up.
He pulled down the zipper and let the skirt fall to the ground. Cool air rushed over her ass, exposing the pair of crotchless, red lace panties and a matching leather garter with silver rings and straps tightening to her hips. The reflection in the window showed the dainty stockings tied with a red ribbon to the silver hoops on her thighs.
“This look suits you. A contest of edgy”—he dragged his knuckle over the leather garter to the red bows—“and feminine.”
Her mouth watered as his gaze savored her in the reflection like she was a glorious sight before him. Like he didn’t know where to start.
He licked his lips. “Candy is a fitting name.”
