owned her own pleasure, and anyone who got to see it should count himself lucky.
So should any man seeking to tame her. As a second girl submitted to a whipping that turned her ass pink, Lex's hand settled in Dallas's lap. The theatrics planned by Cerys had done little enough to stir his blood, but Lex got it raging with a few clever strokes. If she'd started teasing him already, she no doubt meant to drive him crazy by the time dinner ended and they returned to their rooms.
When this was over, he'd have time to teach her the truth. He was always crazy when it came to her.
Chapter Eight
Their guest suite had been modeled after a nineteenth-century Parisian brothel, complete with wide, velvet-covered chaises, elaborate crown moldings, and gilt-edged wallpaper. Everything was decorated in shades of red and gold, opulent in a heavy, desperate sort of way, and Lex hated it on sight.
Cerys had chosen it purposefully, of that much she was sure. The woman never did anything by accident, but always by design. This room, with its low lighting and furnishings that looked cheap no matter their extravagant expense, was meant to remind Lex of her origins. Of her place.
No matter how far she ran, it said, she would always be a whore.
Mad was sitting on one of the sofas, smoking. Lex dropped beside him, kicked off her shoes, and plucked the cigarette from his hand. "I hope you had a better evening than we did."
"Hard to tell, sometimes, with Bren." Once she'd taken a puff, Mad rescued the cigarette and took a long drag. "Sometimes I think he's ready to blow a vein, and it turns out he's having the time of his life."
Bren glowered at them from the bar across the room. "This is my relaxed face."
Lex laughed. "Mad's right. It looks just like your I'm about to rip a bastard's spine out through his ears face."
"And all of his faces are a little busted." Mad tossed the rakish fall of hair from his eyes and grinned at Lex. "He wishes he was pretty like me."
"Mmm." She ran her thumb over his lower lip. "And you wish you were pretty like Dallas."
Mad bit the pad of her thumb and caught her wrist. "Where is our fearless leader?"
"On his way." She did her best to look innocent as she tilted her head. "The guy from Eight won't talk in front of simple-minded females like me, you know."
"Lucky you. He's more boring than God and all the angels." Mad dropped her hand back into her lap with a wink. "Speaking of higher powers, you keep your pretty little hands to yourself. I'll cuddle you all night long, but this--" his finger brushed her collar, "--means I'll answer to one vengeful motherfucker if I get too friendly."
"You could help me blow him." The mental images were more reminiscence than imagination. "Wouldn't be the first time you'd licked my tongue and his cock."
"Sweet words won't change my mind," Mad informed her with mock severity, but she could see the heat of memory in his gaze, as well. He'd always taken pleasure as freely as he gave it, and the more warm bodies around him, the better.
"Too bad." She shifted on the couch until she was leaning against the opposite arm with her feet in Mad's lap. "I think Dallas is feeling a little wild tonight. But if you don't want to play..."
Rolling his eyes, he dropped his hands to her feet. He was clever with his fingers and knew how to push his thumbs right where her foot ached from her shoes. "Don't be dense, lovely. If Dallas is feeling frisky, even Bren and his busted face will jump in the pile with you."
Bren grunted before draining his drink. "You're sure as hell not getting any of this, though," he told Mad.
Mad winked at Lex. "We'll see, won't we?"
Spoken as if he had no doubt Bren would fuck him, given half a chance. Then again, few people in the world had proven immune to Mad's charms. "You're terrible," Lex proclaimed. "And delicious."
"We're all--" The door crashed open hard enough to make him jump, and he jerked his hands away from Lex's feet as if he'd been caught with them down her pants.
Dallas was too furious to notice. He slammed the door shut behind him and kicked it for good measure, his face carved in forbidding lines. "I hate these motherfuckers."
Whatever the bastard from Sector Eight had said to Dallas, it