Page 45 of Dark Knight

She shook her head, her lower lip trembling slightly. I crossed back to the bed, sitting down and patting the top of her head. "We won't let anybody hurt you."

The slightly sharp intake of breath that came from Dylan in response to my actions told me everything I needed to know. He could see the interest I had in this woman and was surprised by it. Hell, I was surprised by it too.

"So you were ready to use it, even though you don't know how?"

"I was ready to try," she snapped. "Somebody was trying to get into the room, trying to get to me. I needed to defend myself."

"You shouldn't handle a weapon you don't know or understand how to use," I said softly as I stroked her head a little more. "You could hurt yourself."

"Such reckless behavior should be corrected," Dylan said, his voice carrying a soft menace to it. I knew he didn't mean anything by it, but I couldn't help imagining me punishing her.

"What do you mean by that?" Evie demanded.

"I mean that I think Hudson should give you a spanking." My blood rushed to my cock at the thought alone.

"I'm not a child," she said, tossing the covers aside and pushing up from the bed. The little nightdress she wore barely slipped over her hips in time to cover herself.

How Dylan walked out of this room and left her in bed, I simply did not understand. The man had more willpower than I did, that was for sure.

My hand grabbed her wrist, tugging her to me until she stumbled into my lap. "You never know, you might end up liking it if you're my good girl."

She squirmed slightly, and my cock throbbed against my zipper. "I can't handle this right now," she said softly.

It was the edge of tears in her voice that made me release her immediately. "I'll punish you later, okay?"

I looked at Dylan, who was just scowling at me. Had I gone soft for this woman?

23

Evie

The lights flashed, blinding me as I climbed into the cage. The thump of the bass vibrating through the floor and up my legs made me feel like the ground was shaking slightly.

I never wanted to come back to the club, but here I was. It was a Friday night as well, so it wasn't just the regular performances. The place had turned into an actual dance club as well.

The thin strips of material that covered my body weren't enough to make me feel protected, and my heart felt like it was trying to beat out of my chest. It was the most revealing dress I'd ever worn. One wrong move, and I would flash someone.

I swayed to the rhythm of the music as I tried to calm down. Nobody seemed to be paying me any attention, which was a relief. For once, I didn't feel as though I was being watched, so I eventually started to relax and get comfortable as I danced. Dancing was not my forte, but all the bar really needed was a pretty girl in a cage. Apparently, I qualified as pretty, especially with my hair being light blonde the way it was.

It showed up in the darkness like a beacon, and I could almost feel the moment people started noticing me. My hair drew them to me like moths to a flame. I wished it worked like a lighthouse in the sea that warned them, keeping them away. Some of the other girls had blonde hair, but it was obviously dyed with that brassy yellow undertone, and most of the others were brunettes. I stood out.

I didn't dare let myself look down at the crowd. If I did, I might not be able to stop myself from freaking out. Instead, I focused on the women on stage who were dancing together in some kind of choreographed routine.

It wasn't a strip show like it was the first night I was here. It seemed more like a halftime dance at a football game, except these cheerleaders were more scantily clad than any cheerleader I had ever seen…and that included the ones that did professional games.

I copied some of their movements once I realized which moves they were repeating, and it felt good to be part of something, in a way. I mean, I knew I wasn't part of their dance team, but knowing some of the choreography made me feel like I was actually an employee at the club, not just a woman who had been shoved into a cage and told to dance.

The first time I felt the brush of fingertips against my skin, I ignored it and moved away as much as the cage would allow, I guess. Moving away didn't stop my heart from galloping in my chest or my breathing from becoming frantic, especially when the same fingertips brushed against me again.

I knew they were the same from the calluses I could feel on the person’s fingertips. The lingering touch made my skin crawl.

The music shifted to a song that was slower and more sensual, and I did my best to adjust while also keeping my panic at bay. Each time I felt somebody touch my feet, I moved to the other side of the cage, but it seemed like the touches just followed, until finally someone grabbed my ankle, preventing me from stepping away completely.

As soon as I couldn't move, their other hand moved to work on the buckle on my shoe, as though they were trying to take it off me. The bizarre actions finally made me give in and look down.

I couldn't properly see who was touching me inappropriately. The person wore a black hoodie, which seemed strange in a club like this. Surely it had to be too hot, which led to me freaking out completely.

There was no way somebody would voluntarily wear a thick hoodie in the middle of a dance club, especially with the hood pulled up. Not unless they were trying to do something they weren't supposed to.

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