Page 34 of Stutter

Rut. Taste. Feast. Claim.

Tugging her to me, I sit back down on the velvet booth, her thighs on either side of mine, straddling me. She grabs the back of the seat with one hand, the other on her hip, grinding against my length, the heat of her overwhelming because I knowexactly what she feels like.

My angel.

My Siren.

My venomous moth.

I keep my hands on the top of her thighs; grateful her wings are large enough to cover exactly what I’m about to do. I tug one breast from the sheer material and rove my tongue over her darkened, hard nipple, reveling in the taste of her skin back on my tongue. Wild desire flares from the base of my balls to the tip of my cock,weepingfor her as she seeks her pleasure, but it’s with less wild abandon than that morning I found her in the restricted section of the library.

I want her to be like that again. Untamed and feral.

The beauty to my beast.

“Stop and look at me, Siren…” I groan around her nipple, and she stills above me, her head tilting down, ear to my lips. “You're going to go into VIP room number seven. Do you understand? You’ll remove your boots, your mask, this… wig and braid your hair back and wait for me on your knees. Nod if you understand.”

It's small, barely there, but she nods once in understanding and my heart soars.

“That’s my very good girl.” I fix her bodysuit, pulling it over her breast and tap her thigh twice. She gets up on wobbly legs, walking past Stephen, past her men, and striding toward the elevator.

I stand, unashamedly readjusting myself, moving to the other keeper behind the host podium and hand him my card. “I’ll be taking her for the evening.” I say loudly when I feel a presence behind me, most likely Jonas.

“That'll be six thousand.”

Worth it. A night alone away from prying eyes and ears. That’s why I chose room seven. It’s one of the few rooms that doesn’t have a window for voyeurs. The blonde host behind the podium whose name tag says “Sasha,” hands me back my card and gives me a small smile. She looks familiar and something tells me I’ve fucked her before, but I don’t remember clearly, nor do I care.

“Have a nice time. If you proceed to the sixth floor, please let the attendant on the fifth floor know so she can arrange a suite for you.”

“How much is the suite?” I ask, not really caring for the price but for some reason, I’m curious to know what the club thinks she’s worth.

“For Chloe? I believe it’s ten thousand. I also believe you’re the first. But the attendant on the fifth floor will know more than I do.” She says. The way her wide lips press into a smile and I’m pretty sure I’ve fucked that mouth. Only that mouth. Nothing else.

I grunt and bump into the presence behind me when I step back to turn away from the attendant.

“She agreed to go with you upstairs?”

Well, if it isn’t Stephen fucking Prescott. I square my shoulders, toe-to-toe with the man. He smells of expensive cologne, and a hint of scotch on his breath. He’s my height, crow’s feet decorate the edges of those piercing blue eyes, the only true indication he’s older than I am. “I’m sorry, and you are?”

This baffles him, even in the flashing changing lights, I can see the pale pink that creeps along his cheeks. “Stephen Prescott.”

“Pleasure to meet you. If you’ll excuse me, I have someone waiting for me.”

“And you are?”

I take a sip of my watered down Macallan and place the tumbler on a tray of a waitress passing by with empty glasses. “Just a flame with a moth waiting for him.” I reply.

“How did you get her to agree to go with you?”

I shrug, catching glinting gunmetal eyes to my right and I smirk. “Lucky, I suppose,” I reply and simply step around him. Before bypassing both Damon and Jonas, I keep my hand low, making a motion for them to not follow.

I take the stairs two at a time, rushing even though I’ve paid for her entire night. But I want this, God I want this. Even my minor moment with Prescott hadn’t lessened the almost excruciating erection I have had since the moment I saw her inher gilded cage. I have to admit those wings of hers… The monster in me wants to tear them off, to pluck them, so she can never fly away from me again.

I have nothing prepared. No apology of any sort to spew out. No heartfelt words that come to mind other than a simple ‘I’m sorry’ even though I know that will never be enough.

But I have one thing and one thing only I can ever offer her. My heart. My devotion. My worship. Weeks she spent kneeled at my feet like my pet, ready and willing to serve me, beautifully. And I was anasshole. Every time.

“Daddy didn’t love you enough, did he, Siren? That’s why you warm my cock with your sweet mouth like my good little whore. So needy. So willing. So beautiful… Always so fucking ready to drink my cum. Such a good girl the way you crawl to me…”

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