Page 97 of The Penalty

“Yes,” I say through gritted teeth since I want to scream and rip my hair out.

“This is Mr. and Mrs. Bordeaux,” he introduces the couple, and I have to shake their hands.

“Nice to meet you.” Come on brain, do the thinking and the talking and the smiling.

Luckily, the older couple walk off and Rhys finds a standing table with a tablecloth to stand next to.

“Everyone here is eye fucking you.” He looks around with a bit of glare, but I don’t see any of them. All I see is him and the torture he’s putting me through.

“So? They aren’t you.”

Rhys flicks his gaze back to me and I watch that eyebrow rise. That’s probably not going to end well for me.

“Would you drop to your knees right here, right now, and prove that?”

“Yes.”

He shifts and I know he’s not unaffected either. Good. I shouldn’t be the only one in pain here.

“What else would you do?” There’s something in his eyes, something like a challenge and possessive at the same time. It’s close to the one he gets on the ice when he’s about to take a shot on goal.

“Anything you wanted.” I still don’t know all the things I like and don’t like but he’s helping me find out. If he wanted to try something, I would.

“Anything?” He turns fully toward me. “Suck my cock? Bend over this table?” He puts his palm on the fabric.

I think about it for about two point five seconds and answer with a nod.

“Let’s go.” Something comes over Rhys, and I’m here for it. He grabs my hand and drags me to the fanciest bathroom I’ve ever seen in my life. It even has a chandelier in it. There is a window looking over the party, and I hope it’s one way because Rhys wastes no time shoving me against it.

“I need to own you,” he groans against my lips, holding me hostage with a hand on my jaw while he fucks my mouth with his tongue.

“Take me.” This might be my favorite side of him. When he’s desperate and aggressive and I’m the only one who can sate his lust. He fulfills my need to be needed.

“I’m going to fuck you against this glass.” Rhys spins me so all I can do is watch the people moving around. “What if all those people knew you were mine? What if they could see how badly you want to be impaled on my cock?”

I whimper and barely catch his wicked smirk in the reflection of the glass. With both my hands against the cool surface, Rhys quickly opens my pants, shoves everything down to my thighs, and wraps a hand around my cock. My hips thrust on instinct, chasing the pleasure it desperately wants.

“I don’t like people eye fucking what’s mine,” he growls in my ear. It’s so hard to keep my eyes open when I just want to give into the pleasure.

“I don’t see anyone but you,” I moan and he pushes the inside of my foot to widen my stance as far as the pants will let me.

“That’s my boy.”

I preen at his words. I fucking love that possessive streak. I love being his.

“Do you know how hot you look in this fucking suit?” He asks, reaching his arm around me, his hand is in front of my mouth. “Spit.”

I do it without hesitating, then feel his slick fingers against my hole and I groan. Around and around in a tease before a finger pushes in. He gets lube from somewhere, adding to it.

“Fuck me, so everyone knows I’m yours.” My eyes meet his in the glass.

“Do you think they can see how desperate you are to be used?”

I hear the crinkling of a package and his belt opening. The sound alone has anticipation giving me hair boners. Rhys pulls on my hip, and I arch my back, pushing my ass out for him.

His palm smacks my ass, once, twice. The slap echoing in the bathroom followed by my moan. The little sting and the warmth it causes is fucking magic, lighting up my insides and making my dick ache. He definitely needs to do more of that.

“Your ass should always have my handprint.” His voice in my ear makes me shiver.

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