Page 30 of Born for Lace

“Look,” Sweets teases.

I swallow. “I don’t want to.”

“Yes.” She nods. "You do.”

No, I don’t.

Too exhausted to fight, my eyes snap to the bedroom before I can stop them, the image flooding my vision and filling my veins with warmth, discomfort, and fear.

He is so much bigger than them. It’s even more obvious in their position. Lagos pounds into a girl he has pinned on a slight angle beneath his chest with his face between Beauty’s thighs. All I can see of the girl on the bed are her hands reaching from beneath, gripping his muscular flanks, holding on, and slender legs gyrating to keep a lock around his backside. Sat on the pillow, back to the rest, Beauty squeezes the strands of his sandy blonde hair, mewling with her eyes closed.

He is obscenely muscular.

Inhumanly powerful.

And all those tattoos… They reach from ankle to neck, wrapping around and cloaking his skin in ink.

I shuffle, instantly dizzy.

I couldn’t visualise this huge man with a woman before, because I always thought sex would be gentle caresses, sweet words, and tender kisses. I never fantasised about this kind of brutal intimacy between a man and woman.

“It’s frightening.” A voice slides into my ear like a whispering ghost.

Sweets take a step closer. I can feel the warmth from the slip of naked skin between her robe curtains, but I don’t look away. From his rippling back muscles. The tensing and untensing of his arse.

Look away.

Look away.

Look away.

“He can fuck for a full day.” I hear the passion in her voice, the awe in it.

His grunts seem to circle me, coming from everywhere at once. “We close The House when he’s in a mood like this. I’ve already come twice, but he gets bored so easily. There is no human left in him, Lace Girl, and it’s never more obvious than when he decides to fuck you.”

My stomach clenches.

I don’t care that she’s probably trying to upset me. Why else is she so insistent at this moment? To make a point—I am not one of them. I understand.

Sweat mists my forehead.

“Does it hurt?” I ask, wiping the beads before they run and draw attention to my heat.

“Oh,yes,” she hisses. “It hurts. Being fucked by Lagos the Rogue is the scariest, most unsettling feeling in the world.”

The rogue.I haven’t heard that before. Suits him. I want to look away. My pulse races and I’m breathless without moving an inch.

“Then why?” I tear my eyes from the scene and meet her gaze. “Because he trades with you?”

She scoffs, an amused sound that I don’t understand. “You should go back to The Trade, Lace Girl. Let a man pet you and feed you. Take your tea and lie on your back for a nice belly rub.”

“I am not a pet.” In a second, hundreds of thoughts rap on my tongue. Arguments for the importance of my Trade, for the mental health of Trade men across The Cradle, but before any can be spoken, I notice the silence around us. The quiet slithers down my back like icy water.

Oh, no.

Slowly, I turn my chin toward the open room, and his suffocating presence wraps around me again. I was too busy staring at Sweets, her too focused on mocking me, for either of us to notice.

Lagos is stepping from the bed, leaving the two girls mewling helplessly on the mattress. His long, hard dick sways above full, swollen balls between his chiselled, thick thighs.

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