I, Amber Mae, was no saint either. Twenty four, with curves that turned heads and a mind that turned tides, I’d clawed my way up in a world of sharks, my brunette hair a fiery halo, my emerald eyes hiding the scars of every betrayal I’d survived. Beneath the polished exterior, I was a mess of want and rage, a woman who craved control but secretly yearned to be broken. And Julian knew it. He’d seen it in the way my breath caught when he leaned too close, in the way my fingers trembled signing contracts under his gaze. Now, in this den of vice, with bass vibrating through my bones and the scent of musk thick in the air, I felt the pull of him like gravity itself—a forbidden craving laced with danger.
“You shouldn’t be here, Amber,” he drawled as I approached, his voice a low growl that licked down my spine. His gaze raked over me, lingering on the swell of my tits straining against the lace, and I felt my nipples harden under the scrutiny. “This isn’t your scene.”
“And yet, here I am,” I shot back, my tone dripping with defiance even as my pulse hammered. I stepped closer, the heat of his body radiating through the scant space between us, the faint scent of his cologne—cedar and something darker—flooding my senses. “Maybe I’m tired of playing by your rules.”
His lips curled into a smirk, dangerous and knowing, and he set his glass down with deliberate slowness, his fingers brushing the rim as if teasing skin. “Careful, sweetheart. You start playing my game, you might not walk away intact.”
The warning only stoked the fire in my core, my pussy clenching at the unspoken promise in his words. I hated how much I wanted him, how much I needed to feel those rough hands on me, to have him shatter the carefully constructed walls I hid behind. But I wouldn’t let him see that. Not yet. Instead, I leaned in, my breath hot against his ear, my voice a sultry purr. “Try me, I dare you.”
His eyes darkened, a storm brewing, and in one swift motion, he gripped my wrist, his thumb pressing against the frantic beat of my pulse. “You have no idea what you’re asking for,” he murmured, but his touch betrayed him—hungry, possessive. He tugged me toward the shadowed corridor at the club’s edge, the crowd’s roar fading into a dull thrum as he pinned me against the cool, rough wall, his hard body caging mine. My heart raced, the danger of being seen—of this forbidden game unfolding in a den of hedonists—only heightening the thrill.
His mouth crashed into mine, a brutal kiss of teeth and tongue. I moaned into him, my hands fisting in his shirt as his thigh shoved between my legs, grinding against my aching cunt through the thin lace of my panties. “Fuck, Amber,” he growled against my lips, his voice raw. “You’ve been begging for this, haven’t you? All those boardroom stares, all that fucking tension.”
“Shut up and touch me,” I hissed, my nails digging into his shoulders as his hand slid beneath my dress, rough fingers hooking into my panties and yanking them down in one swift tear. The cool air kissed my exposed pussy, but it was nothing compared to the heat of his touch as he dragged a finger through my slick folds, finding my clit with ruthless precision. I gasped, my hips bucking against him, the wall at my back scraping my skin as he circled that sensitive bud, tormenting me with slow, deliberate strokes.
“You’re so fucking wet,” he rasped, his breath hot against my neck as he nipped at the tender flesh, marking me. “All this time, you’ve been dripping for me, haven’t you?” His words were a taunt, a weapon, and they sliced through me, exposing the truth I’d buried. I hated him for seeing it, for knowing how much I craved his dominance, but I couldn’t stop myself from grinding against his hand, chasing the pleasure he dangled just out of reach.
He pulled back abruptly, his eyes glinting with cruel amusement as he licked my arousal from his fingers, the sight making my knees weaken. “Not yet,” he said, his voice a dark promise. “You don’t get to come until I say so.” Before I could protest, he spun me around, pressing my chest against the wall, my ass jutting out as he hiked my dress to my waist. The sound of his belt unbuckling sent a shiver through me, anticipation and fear tangling in my gut. I heard the rustle of foil—a condom—and then the blunt head of his cock nudged against my entrance, thick and unrelenting.
“Tell me you want this,” he demanded, his hand gripping my hip hard enough to bruise, his other hand winding into my hair and tugging until my neck arched back. “Beg for it, Amber.”