Page 12 of Sold to Her Enemy

From the outside, Club Lust looks like an old warehouse. I see a pair of headlights flash from the parking lot, and it’s my driver, Jared, at the wheel of the sleek Mercedes-Benz S600 Maybach.

I love this car for more reasons than the built-in fridge and the comfy seats.

“Good evening, Mr. McIntyre,” Jared greets me.

“Home, please, Jared.” He holds the door open for me. “Get in,” I tell Mckenna.

She glares at me, and her pinched expression is visible in the outer lighting from the club.

“That’s my father’s car,” her tone is clipped, the anger clear on her face.

“No, it’s mine,” I manage to hide my smirk, but barely.

Her hands ball into fists. She scrunches her eyes up tight, and it’s kind of adorable.

A part of me wants to curse her and tell her how pitiful she is, having sold herself to the highest bidder. She is out in a parking lot wearing lingerie, with her make-up all ruined. And another part of me wants to comfort her, to throw a blanket around her, tell her to change, and take her out for a romantic meal.

Because, dammit, my heart has always wanted this woman.

I push those thoughts out of my head.

I don’t care that this is hard for her, not really.

She got her revenge on me, and now it’s my turn.

I grab her arm and jerk her forward so she slips a little. “Get in,” I slap her ass, the impact of my hand echoing in the street.

I was going to wait until we were in privacy again to pick up the treatment of her. I was going to let her stew in her thoughts and demand that she hold her silence, but her attitude tells me I have to keep this up.

Maybe it’s what we both need, a complete separation from the past.

“No, not on the seat. Kneel on the floorboards.”

She does, shuffling against the passenger seat. I climb in, unzipping my fly as I do, taking down my pants.

I settle into the backseat.

“Put your mouth on my dick. But do not suck me or use your tongue. I better not feel teeth. You are nothing more than a cockwarmer.”

Her cheeks turn a red shade as Jared closes the door. Her eyes widen, but she reaches out, takes my semi-hard cock in her hand, sliding her mouth over it.

Ah, fuck.

It’s a warm forge whose heat coats my cock and sends shivers down my spine.

I would love to thrust so far down her throat that she’s choking and sputtering on me, but there’s time for that later.

Right now, I am putting her in her place, reminding her that she is nothing more than mine to use now, and by heaven, I will use her.

Taking out my phone and stylus, I bring up the long list of emails that need my attention. The car bounces over a pothole, and Mckenna’s tongue slides up my shaft before quickly coming to a stop.

I don’t react, not wanting to give her any attention.

Pretending to glance at my phone, I can see the tears in her eyes. Ignoring her, I flip on to the next email.

But her mouth on my cock is paradise, and the silence is thick with simmering angst. It’s taking as much patience from me as it is from her. I wonder who I am really objectifying by this act. With a steel will, I force myself to work.

My father always called Davis, Mckenna’s father, the most brilliant man he knew.

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