Hell (Black Heart Romance)

Now I know it won’t be enough to let her go. I want her for myself. I want her to please me, to work off her debt with me. Because no matter how upset she is and no matter how freaked out Glen made her, she still owes me.

I’m not a perfect man. I know there’s darkness in me. I don’t bother trying to fight it—it’d be a waste of time, like fighting my need for air and water or willing my eyes into changing color. I don’t believe in wasting time. In wishing.

And the darkness in me flares to life, threatening to overtake me now. Something in this girl speaks to that part of me. Sings to it. Entices it, teases it, invites it to come out and play. I’ve never known a temptation this sweet. A man could become addicted.

“I relate to the people who visit this club. Men and women both.” I make it a point to keep my voice low so as not to upset her further. She’s been through enough tonight. Besides, I need her to hear me, and if she’s sobbing and blubbering, there’s no chance of that.

She’s watching me now, weeping softly. “Let me go.” Her voice is like that of a wounded child. There’s none of that bravery from up in my office. It didn’t take much to break her, did it? A few shallow cuts.

Though I can imagine her horror, still. I try not to relate to the girls who come here to work, but there are times when I can’t help it. “I imagine this evening was difficult for you. I can’t help what my customers want. I only provide an outlet for their darkest desires. I like to imagine this keeps them from indulging elsewhere, under less controlled circumstances.”

Either she’s unimpressed, or she’s too busy trying to understand where this is going to offer any meaningful response. All she does is whimper, her struggles weakening. She’s exhausted herself.

“You have to understand something, Rowan.” I walk a slow circle around the table, taking in every inch of her. Imagining the many positions I can twist her supple body into. “I believe in fairness. In people living up to their promises and obligations. Tonight was too much for you. I thought it would be.”

Her whimpering grows slightly louder.

“I wouldn’t break the rules for just anybody. In fact, this is the first time I’ve stopped a customer before they reached satisfaction. I hope you know what that means.”

She lifts her head, eyes finding mine. “Thank you?”

I can’t tell whether she’s genuinely thanking me or making an ironic comment, and I like that. The fact of her not being entirely transparent. Just enough to keep me intrigued.

“However.” I come to a stop between her legs. She’s delectable: smooth-shaven, plump lips that ought to glisten with my cum. I force my eyes away from the sight. “As difficult as this evening was for you, your debt still stands.”

Her eyes go perfectly round an instant before her mouth falls open. “Oh, no, please! I can’t. I can’t go through this again, please. I’ll do anything else.”

“You’re right. You will do something else.”

Her panicked breathing only slows slightly. “Wh-what do you want instead?” she asks in a voice that’s more like a squeak.

“You will return to the club four times.” When she pulls in a breath, ready to start begging again, I hold up a hand. “I’m not finished. You’ll return four times, and we’ll play out my kink.”

Her delicate brows knit together. “You and me?”

“Don’t make assumptions.” I lift a shoulder. “Otherwise, my brothel is one of the finest in the tri-state area… but it’s still a brothel. The choice is yours. Let me remind you, though, that the debt will be paid one way or another.”

Then a wave of generosity washes over me. “I’ll include an extra ten thousand dollars for you as payment.”

“I’ll do it,” she blurts out nearly before I finish the sentence.

Something told me that would help her decide.

5

Rowan

Here I am again. And I still have no idea what the hell I’m getting into.

He didn’t tell me how to dress this time, something I didn’t realize until after I got home. After I sat in a hot bathtub long enough that my fingers pruned, and the water went cold. And still, I sat there, knees drawn up to my chest, my arms wrapped around them. I didn’t keep track of time. It could’ve been hours, for all I know.

Even after all that, I didn’t feel clean when I got out.

That guy with the knife, whatever his name is, didn’t hurt me as badly as he could have. I know that. The cut on my chest is shallow, hardly anything, really. Just enough to draw blood. I’ve had worse from a pissed-off cat. That cut wasn’t the scary part. It was the possibility of what could have happened. It was me being utterly helpless. Even more helpless than I had been with Eric. It was the look in that guy’s eyes.