Break Me

I blow out a breath, making my chest rise and fall dramatically. Leaning into him, I whisper, “Don’t mess up the scene.” I settle back onto my stool with a wink.

Mohawk man gives me a thumbs-up and moves away to serve someone else.

Okay, now back to my target. I scan the area yet still have no sight of him.

Casually, I sip my cosmo, hoping Mohawk man isn’t watching for my partner to arrive.

A tall man in a snug, black V-neck T-shirt takes the stool beside me. His tailored, black dress pants are definitely accenting his ass and toned thighs as the shirt clings to his every muscle, making me wonder if the arms will bust at the seams from his size. The tattoo of a snake head striking stands out boldly on his tanned neck as the green eyes of the cobra seem to come to life, watching me from the side as he throws up a finger to the bartender for a beer.

Mohawk man serves him and winks at me. Shit, he thinks this is my scene. I move to slide off the barstool, accidentally bumping into snake man.

He turns. His spiky blond hair is devilishly styled, making his eyes pop. When the green hue meets my blue stare, he looks as if he is ready to strike, like the tattoo on his neck. His face shows signs of healing injuries, making me wonder what happened to him.

As he watches me, I can’t help worrying he sees right through me, because that’s how it feels. With every blink of his eyes, I feel like he is seeing deep into my soul.

“Angel,” he whispers raising an eyebrow in question.

Breathlessly, I reply, “I’m no one’s angel.”

Chapter Eight

Tuesdays aren’t my usual Lion’s Den night. Swingers looking for an open fuck usually come on Sundays. Tuesdays are for scenes, training, and the occasional person looking for a new partner or a couple looking for assistance. Missy and I have come a few times and before her I frequented the club regularly.

I need release, though. I need a drink. I need to be in a place where names don’t matter, jobs don’t matter, nothing matters but getting off. I need to be here where no one cares who my father is. I need to be where no one cares about the secrets I hide from the world.

I settle on a barstool, and the bartender gives me a wink and a nod. I hope to hell he doesn’t think I’m his type, because I’m fucking not.

“Shot of Jack and a draft chaser,” I order, reaching in my pocket for some cash.

I pay the man and look left. Immediately, my eyes settle on the dark-haired beauty beside me. She’s not dressed like the other kinky bitches in here, but I wouldn’t mind tying her hands up in those chains around her hips.

She slides off her stool and bumps into me.

I know her type. She wants to play submissive tonight and then probably go home to her old man or maybe a vibrator. She wants to step outside of her comfort zone, but only by dipping her toe in. She’s too timid to be excited, which means this isn’t her scene.

I can see the steady tick of her rapid pulse in her neck. I can feel the fear along with the anticipation coming off her.

She looks up from behind that mess of dark hair. The blue of her eyes is soft and pops out at me. For a moment, I see familiarity . . . No, she can’t be familiar. I focus. I see weakness, vulnerability. She is damn good at this game. I can’t tell if it’s an act. Maybe she is afraid to get caught, or maybe she didn’t realize, once you walk into The Lion’s Den, there is no turning back.

“Angel,” I whisper wondering if her eyes are indeed one in the same of the angel I just met.

“I’m no one’s angel.”

She is fresh meat and could walk out any moment. The lions in this den seem to be very watchful of her. At her reply, I can’t help but feel wound even tighter. I need release.

She glances around, noticing. Her eyes widening and shifting, she looks like a trapped gazelle. She could make an easy escape, but she doesn’t. Her eyes train on me, almost begging me for something. I know what that something is. She is here for the same reason I am.

I turn on my stool and reach out, taking her hips and pulling her between my legs. “You’re mine tonight.”

Her eyes widen, mocking innocence. I know she wants to be here. If she didn’t, she would have left. She came for something, and that something is going to be what I give her.

I tilt her chin up and lean in, rubbing my nose from her shoulder blade to her ear. I feel a gush of warm air escape her mouth and smell her sweet breath.