Page 66 of Beautiful Secrets

She’d have to point a gun at me to get me to stop at this point. Maybe not even then. I’d honestly risk taking a bullet to feel her sweet, wet mouth around my cock again.

That doesn’t stop her fighting me, though. Why would it?

People scatter in my wake as I lead her to a wide staircase that’s roped off from the rest of the club. When the first black-suited bouncer spots me, he does a double take. And then taps his friend on the shoulder, pointing.

Luckily for them, his friend recognizes me.

The ropes are pulled back. I barely give the bouncers a nod before I’m past, carrying Mika up the stairs like I’m delivering a sack of potatoes to a VIP in desperate need of some chips.

But the only one in desperate need is me.

There are four private booths up here, mostly for the purposes of snorting coke and making shady deals—at least, back when I was still free to roam around like a normal person.

Two of the booths are occupied and have their privacy screens open, but I don’t recognize the people inside. Fuck knows who gets access to them these days—probably legit VIPs that pay a sizable entry fee or some shit.

But the last booth, the one in the corner of the club, is special. It’s eternally reserved for me or Kill—at least, I hope it still is.

Things changed up here too. Gone are the old purple-black velvet curtains that used to hang around each booth. They’ve been replaced with folding glass doors which—as I notice when I pass one of the occupied booths—are installed with two-way mirrors. So while I can see myself walking past, a furious Mika pummeling my back with her tiny fists, I can’t see inside for shit.

Makes me curious as hell to know who’s inside the second booth, but makes that prize booth in the corner even better suited for my desperate carnal needs.

Mika lets out a huff when I drop her onto a circular ottoman with a built-in coffee table in the center. “What are you doing?”

“Redeeming my coupon, baby girl.”

She glares up at me with hateful eyes, a deep crease between her sandy brows. But when my hands go to my belt, her face clears.

“Oh.”

And God, I know she didn’t plan it, but that word forms her mouth into the perfect shape for my cock.

Which is already straining to tear open my trousers before I pop open the top button. I step closer, reaching in to take my dick out, and Mika retreats until her back thumps against the center of the ottoman.

And then licks her damn lips, leaving them glistening and ready.

Her eyes drop to my cock.

She opens her mouth, but not nearly wide enough.

I step up to her, kick her legs apart as much as her slinky dress allows, and grab her hair in a fist.

Outside, the music thumps relentlessly, but it’s muted some by our impenetrable, mirrored fortress. The moody lighting darkens her eyes from bright blue to a deep navy, pinpricks of purple dancing in them as she tips her head back to look up at me.

I could stare into those eyes for the rest of my life and die a happy man.

I slide my hand down my shaft, lust rifling through me when Mika’s eyes drop to watch me. Her tongue darts out again, this time to tease the tip of my dick. She recoils, no doubt from the taste of the precum leaking out—that’s how fucking ready I am for her mouth.

Using the hand in her hair, I urge her head forward and guide her mouth around the tip of my dick, stretching her lips wide to accommodate its girth.

She makes a sound—fuck knows if it’s protest or not—but I keep going.

That vibration shoots through me, hardening my cock even more.

The feel of her wet mouth so tight around my dick makes me want to offload down her throat straight away, but I hold myself back with some unfathomable willpower I had no fucking clue I possessed.

I push deeper into her, and feel her gagging around my swollen cock.

“Everything, little rabbit. I want you to swallow me whole.”