Page 63 of Black Sheep

Second, nothing that risks life or safety is permitted.

Third, all acts that stray towards the unconventional are carried out in a supervised environment. While I didn’t know what that entailed, my imagination stopped its wild and desperate spinning.

I’m fully aware how less scrupulous places than the Punishment Club operate. My father had been an owner of two of those clubs when we lived in Boston, before he was lured to Connecticut by Finnan Rutherford. Finnan supplied him with girls. I know about this because I heard him arguing with my mother about what went on there. He eventually sold the club when a customer accidentally strangled himself during autoerotic asphyxiation.

My seatbelt snaps free, dragging me back to the present. Axel’s gaze rests on me, but he makes no move to get out. When the footsteps halt beside his window, he lowers the window and takes the bag she hands him.

She bends and scrutinizes my face with sharp, intelligent green eyes that hold a touch of concern. She’s about to speak when her phone rings. Digging into the back pocket of her tight leather pants, she pulls out a sleek phone and walks away.

Axel reaches into the bag, pulls out a coat, and tosses it in my lap. “Put it on.”

I eye the garment, a rebellious fire igniting inside me at the thought of wearing something that belongs to another woman. His woman? “Why?”

“Because we’re walking through a club filled with depraved, desperate assholes. Your body isn’t going on show for them to fucking salivate over.”

I want to ask him why he’s brought me here then, but I already know the answer. This is to be part of my punishment. The ironic thing is that I set the ball rolling myself.

I take the coat and shrug into it.

He finally steps out and comes around to open my door. I notice the other things he’s holding. The highest pair of fuck-me shoes I’ve ever seen. They’re black patent leather with lethal-looking silver studs down the back.

They aren’t tacky, but the fire inside me, which is taking on a decidedly green tinge, ramps higher. “Those are—”

“Likely the most harmless shoes B owns. She’s your size so they should fit.” He crouches next to the open door like he did in the park and reaches for my foot.

My breath catches as he cradles one ankle and slips the shoe on then repeats the action with the other. Although casual, almost gentle, his touch still races fire up my legs to my core.

I’m still fighting to pull air inside my lungs when he surges to his feet and holds out his hand. I take it, battle with yet another dimension of sizzle stemming from his touch, step out and struggle not to topple over in the sky-high shoes. He catches me as I pitch forward, steadying me with both hands at my waist.

“You okay?” he asks with a raised eyebrow once I regain my feet.

I nod, temporarily unable to speak because my borrowed heels elevate me closer to his fierce, unnerving regard. And at this height, his full, sensual mouth is so tantalizingly close that mine tingles wildly.

We freeze in place, my gaze on his mouth, his on mine, for seconds. Or minutes. Until the sound of agitated heels pacing closer shatters the erotically charged standoff.

The hands at my waist move. He fastens the stylish summer coat with the single button, and although I’m not thrilled to be wearing another woman’s clothes, I’m grateful for the cover it provides.

“Come on.” His hand catches mine, and he leads me to the waiting elevator twenty yards away.

“—no! There’s nothing to discuss. Stay the hell away from me. I mean it.”

We both turn as B hangs up and crosses over to join us. She takes one step inside, and her phone rings again. Her elegantly manicured fingers curl around the device and a look passes over her face, gone quickly before I can decipher it.

“You coming?” Axel demands with a bite of impatience.

She eyes him. Then me. Then she looks down at her phone. Shaking her head, she backs away from the doors. “No. You two go ahead. I’ll grab the next one.”

As she turns away, I can’t help but notice she’s decidedly paler than she was when she approached the car. But her shoulders and spine bear the hallmarks of one pissed-off female when she stalks away in heels even higher than mine.

“What’s up with her? Is she okay?” I ask.

Axel hits the button for the first floor without taking his eyes off me. Darkened eyes full of intent. “B can handle herself. Which makes it very easy for me not to give a fuck.”

The moment the doors slide shut, he backs me against the wall. His scent, his size, the heat emanating from his exposed skin all crowd into me, feeding the frenzied madness that seems to be a hairsbreadth away.

“I like you small…A delectably fuckable handful I can manipulate on my cock any which way I choose. But I like you in these heels too.” He raises my hand and plants an open-mouthed kiss in my palm before dragging it down to rest on his iron-hard erection. He covers my hand with his, pressing our fingers so I feel every thick ridge.

“You feel how fucking hard I am right now? I’m imagining how it easy it’ll be to slide my cock into you. You won’t even need to bend over to receive me.” Hot, vulgar words, crooned against the corner of my mouth before he licks the curve. A casual flick of his wrist, and the coat falls open. Heated eyes drag up and down my legs, and a hoarse sound escapes his throat.

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