Mastered (The Enforcers 1)

She fed hungrily at his mouth, sucking at the tip of his tongue when his lips parted and then delving deeper so she could taste him, consume him.

A low growl rumbled from his throat, vibrating over her tongue, sending shivers dancing down her spine.

She slowly drew away, and he frowned as if he was in no way finished with her yet, but she wanted to drown in his gaze again and bask in the desire and approval in his dark eyes.

“Approve is hardly an apt description, Angel. I’m not sure whether you’re an angel or a demon in an angel’s guise. I’ve never been so affected by a mere kiss.”

“Me either,” she whispered.

He smiled then. “Tell me, Angel. Just how many men have you kissed?”

She flushed and looked away in embarrassment. He cupped her jaw and gently guided her gaze back to his.

“I didn’t ask to shame you. I’m hoping to hell that you’re going to tell me that you’ve only kissed one other man, because he sure as hell doesn’t count, which would make me the first. The first that means anything. Because the thought of that pleases me a hell of a lot and I don’t give a damn about your inexperience. I want to be the man to teach you pleasure and eroticism. I want, in time, for you to forget all about Eddie Ryker and believe that I was your first in all aspects of lovemaking.”

Her heart did funny things, momentarily robbing her of breath. Then she smiled, not knowing how devastating that smile was on the male population.

“Eddie who?” she asked lightly.

He growled and became the aggressor, kissing her until she was panting for breath.

“Now that is what I want to hear,” he said as he stroked his thumb over her swollen mouth.

“And for the record, Drake, you were the first,” she said softly. “What Eddie did could hardly constitute anything but a quick lay where he took his pleasure and gave me none. You are the only man to have ever given that to me.”

He looked extremely satisfied with her response. He loosened his hold on her and allowed her to step back, his gaze still drifting appreciatively over her body, giving her a decadent thrill. He really did like what he saw. There was no faking his response to her and it was such a heady sensation. Like she was having the most wonderful dream, one she never wanted to awaken from.

“Go and get comfortable,” he said. “The food will be up shortly and then afterward I’ll have two of my men escort you down. I want you to enjoy your night as you should have the first time you came to my club.”

She turned quickly before he could see the dismay on her face. She remembered all too well the reactions of the other patrons. Just because she was Drake’s woman now didn’t change who and what she was, and she would still be judged and deemed unworthy, no matter how Drake saw her.

“Evangeline.”

His voice halted her just as she was about to sink into one of the comfortable-looking armchairs that sat at an angle to his desk. She turned, her expression inquiring.

“It will be okay,” he said softly.

She briefly closed her eyes, determined not to ruin her makeup by allowing herself to get upset over that night all over again.

“You have no idea how horrible that night was for me, Drake. Before Eddie even made his appearance.”

Drake’s eyes narrowed. “Explain what you mean.”

She sighed, wishing she’d just kept her thoughts to herself, and she damned her compulsion to blurt out the truth no matter how awkward or embarrassing. Nobody wanted to hear her train of thought, and yet she forever just vomited out the unvarnished truth.

“Evangeline?” he prompted.

Damn it, but he wasn’t going to drop it. She was already acquainted with the particular tone he’d just used when saying only one word. Her name. It wasn’t a request. It was an order and one she felt compelled to obey, despite her overt discomfort over rehashing the events of that night.

She let out another resigned sigh and reached deep within for strength and composure.

“As soon as I stepped out of the cab, people were judging me. The people in line. Even the damn bouncer dude, or whatever his title is. The guy who mans the door and either lets people in or tells them to get in line. But he didn’t even tell me to get in line. He told me to leave. And every single person in that long-ass line was smirking and looking at me like I was a moron for even trying to get into a place like Impulse. Then when I showed the guy who told me to leave my VIP pass, he looked like he’d just swallowed a lemon, and the people in line weren’t subtle about their outrage that someone like me was being allowed in while they were standing on the sidewalk waiting. They looked at me like I was some sort of bug. Others just outright laughed.”