Page 77 of Dangerous Men

A perfect submissive.

“Hello, sir,” she greets me. There’s an unmistakable eagerness to her voice. A breathless anticipation.

I swallow the rest of my drink and set my glass down on the bar top

Vicky has been my favorite girl here at the Second Circle for a little over a year. She knows exactly what I like, and how I like it. And the enthusiasm with which she engages in all the filthy things I make her do makes me think she might like it too.

Whether she does or not is irrelevant to me. I’m not here for her sake.

“Take off your clothes,” I order, leaning back against the bar. I watch her closely as she complies.

Eyes still lowered, Vicky reaches behind her back to unzip her dress, gracefully shrugging it off her pale shoulders. It pools around her on the carpet, a puddle of expensive silk. The matching bra and panty set follows.

She keeps the thigh-high stockings and garters on. It’s a nice touch. They look good on her.

I take my time drinking in the sight of her, completely exposed before me. She’s flawless. Perfectlysmooth, not a single hair or ounce of fat visible on the full length of her taut body. Before she started working for Francesca, Vicky was well on her way to becoming the next big runway sensation. In a few years, she could have been the next It Girl. But she turned down a modeling contract in Empire City to stay here after finding sex work suited her.

She’s exactly what I need tonight. Vicky looks nothing at all like my brothers’ little obsession. Her hair is dark and smooth as silk, her pale face delicate as a doll’s. She’s exactly what I need right now.

“Get on your knees,” I say, rolling up the sleeves of my dress shirt slowly. Anticipation thrums through my body. “Crawl to me.”

“Yes, sir.”

There’s a quiver of eagerness to her voice, a hint of excitement, like she needs this just as badly as I do. Maybe she does.

It can be just as satisfying sometimes to be the one giving up control to someone else. There’s something cathartic about letting go and trusting someone else with your agency.

She sinks to her knees gracefully and crawls to me on all fours, stopping only when she reaches me. Then she sits back on her ankles, running her hands up the front of my pants and to my thighs.

Fuck, I need this. My breath hitches as her hand glides over my stiffening cock before she continues up to my belt. I’ll make her suck me off for a while before I fuck her. I want to take my time with her tonight. I want it rough. I want her bent over the bed, facing away from me the way I like it best, screaming for it. Begging for it.

I feel a little tipsy already, the alcohol making its way quickly through my system.

Her fingers make quick work of my belt, and before she can unzip me, I reach out to grab her by the hair, pulling her headback and forcing her to look up at me. Her quick intake of breath is exquisite.

Fuck yes. This is exactly what I need right now. Her on her knees before me, her soft chestnut curls wrapped around my fist, my?—

I drop Vicky’s silky black hair and yank my hand away.

Soft chestnut curls.

Sydney. I was imagining Sydney’s hair clenched between my fingers. Sydney, on her knees in front of me. Sydney, waiting patiently for me to use her.

“Is something wrong?” Vicky asks, staring up at me with big liquid eyes, framed with expertly applied black liner. And in that moment, she’s perfect. So beautiful, and so perfect, and so willing.

But not what I want.

“We’re done,” I say suddenly, turning away from her. It’s suddenly hard to catch my breath. I press both of my palms against the wood of the bar top, scared if I don’t, I won’t be able to stop them from shaking. “I need you to put your clothes back on and leave.”

“But…” Vicky’s voice quavers slightly as she speaks. “I didn’t… Did I do something wrong? Sir?”

I can’t answer her. I can’t breathe.

I can’t do this.

It’s a terrible idea.A reckless, idiotic, dangerous idea.

But I do it anyway.