me. Her fingertip circles the pad of her thumb. “Is it time for me to go?”
“No.”
She blinks, once, lamplight in her eyes. Reya crosses her legs on the other side of the room. “Then what—”
“You’re still being trained.” I put my empty glass on a side table. “You’ve been so amusing that I’ll give you another choice. Me, or you can take your chances with whoever is left in this room.”
Brigit looks.
There are four of them, mostly deep in their drink, but one sits by the fireplace. He’s a regular client, prone to dark moods and rough sex. He looks particularly dark tonight. He’s been watching Brigit since the moment we entered the room. He’s watching her now. I planned to take her to my room for this, but the whiskey and my mood have combined into a dangerous elixir. Let him see that she’s still mine.
“You.”
“Good choice.” I plant my feet and point to a spot between my legs. “Come here.”
When she does, I knock her knees apart and pull her roughly onto my lap. Her dress hikes up almost to her hips, the fabric whispering over her thighs, and she bites her lip. “We could go to your office,” she suggests.
“Do you think you’ll be fucking clients in my office?”
The pink on her cheeks is the same color her ass was when Savannah was done slapping her. I shouldn’t have given that up so casually. I’ll make up for it later. “No.”
“It’s unlikely you’ll fuck clients here either. But this is a special case.”
The color drains from her face. “You’re not… not here—”
I take her face in my hand and pull her close so I can bite her lip. She shudders at the pain but doesn’t pull away. “And if I did fuck you here, what would you have to say about it? There are other ways for you to get your money. There’s a man in this room who would pay right now for the privilege. But he won’t pay as well as I do, and he won’t be as gentle.”
“You’re not gentle.”
“That’s right. You’re going to have to give me a better performance than this, sweetheart. Otherwise, I’ll bend you over and let him have his way with you. He would like it.”
Her eyes meet mine, and for an instant, she looks so vulnerable, so innocent, that I almost unzip my pants and take her now, just to hear her scream. “What?”
Brigit’s chin is so delicate in my hand.
“We’re in the business of pleasure.” My cock wants it too. Painfully. “Not fear. Not always fear,” I amend. “There are some sick fucks who like to make women cry.”
“Like you?”
“You’re so ungrateful for this morning. It’s my fault.” I stroke a thumb across the line of her jaw. “I should teach you to be more grateful for what I give you.”
“I am grateful.” Her gaze flickers over to the last of the clients, and Brigit wriggles her hips up toward mine. She must be desperate for any sense of stability. Well, she can have it. But she’ll have to pay. “Thank you.”
A laugh escapes me. “Not even close.”
“I’m so grateful.” She reaches for the front of my jacket, smoothing it down in tentative strokes, gentle touches. “Please. What else can I do to prove it to you?”
“I already told you.” I slide my hand up under her dress. It’s all lace and heat between her thighs. Wet lace. Oh, she pretends, Brigit—she pretends that she doesn’t want this, but she’s like all the other women. “Show me how much you like this.”
Show me all of it, all the shame and the guilt and the hurt and how pretty it is.
I shove aside the lace and push two fingers into her slick hole.
She’s so tight I have to keep my eyes locked on hers, lest they roll back in my head. Brigit fists the shoulders of my jacket and lets out a tentative moan. I know, without having to ask, that she’s never been touched like this before. A breath hisses between my teeth. A true virgin. And here she is, pretending to like the rough invasion of my fingers.
I add another one and she clenches down on them, letting her head fall back. “Show it more,” I tell her. Casual, like she’s any other whore. She’s just one of the whores, and I don’t care. This feeling that I’m experiencing is not care. “This isn’t just for me, you know. Play your cards right, and the men