Page 44 of Shadow Waltz

He groaned, hands fisting at his sides, desperate to touch. I bent forward, lips ghosting over his jaw, down to the hollow of his throat. I bit him, left a mark, then soothed the sting with my tongue. He shuddered, head falling back, offering himself up.

“Do you want me?” I whispered, breath hot in his ear.

“Yes,” he gasped, desperate. “God, yes.”

“Then beg.”

He hesitated only a moment, pride warring with need. “Please, Ash. Please, let me—let me touch you, let me taste you.”

I smiled, slow and sly, and let my gaze wander away from Rajesh for the first time. The guards had been statuesque shadows at the edge of the room, but now I saw them in detail—dark eyes, sharp lines, hands clenched at their sides, the unmistakable swell of arousal pressed tight beneath the fabric of their suit pants. Their discipline was legendary, but lust burned through it, staining their cheeks and making their breathingrough. One watched me with undisguised hunger; another licked his lips, muscles tensing. The third, the one with the hawk-like features, was visibly trying—and failing—to suppress the need in his body.

Power. It was everywhere, and suddenly, it was mine.

I let my lips curl in a predator’s smile and looked back to Rajesh, running a finger slowly down his chest, tracing the gold chain nestled in the dark hair. “You’re not the only one watching, are you?”

He followed my gaze, and when he saw his men’s condition, pride warred with jealousy in his eyes. “They follow my orders,” he said, voice trembling. “Always.”

I leaned in, lips brushing his ear, voice a low, dangerous purr. “Then order them to join us. I want them out of those suits. I want to see what you surround yourself with, Rajesh. Let’s see if any of them are as hungry as you.”

For a heartbeat, he hesitated—perhaps wondering if he could surrender that much control, if he could bear being just another man stripped bare under my hands. Then he nodded, a silent command. “Come here,” he called, breathless but forceful.

The guards exchanged glances. They hesitated—a flicker of doubt, perhaps, or surprise—but the hunger won. They stepped forward, one by one, standing before me in a line. I moved with slow, deliberate authority, circling them, watching the heat rise in their cheeks, the tension in their muscles.

“Strip,” I ordered, my voice echoing with the confidence I didn’t feel but refused to lose. “But only to your underwear.”

The first guard, the one with the broad chest and close-cropped hair, obeyed with deliberate slowness, unbuttoning his jacket, slipping it off his shoulders, letting it fall. His shirt followed, revealing a powerful, thick torso—not carved, but solid, with a smattering of scars and dark hair. He kept his eyeson me as he undid his belt, pants sliding down to reveal navy blue briefs stretched tight over his arousal.

The second was leaner, but no less eager. He peeled his shirt away, hands trembling, skin golden and gleaming with sweat. His boxers were black, riding low on his hips, the outline of his cock impossible to miss.

The third stripped as if daring me to find fault. His skin was pale brown, a faint dusting of hair over his belly, legs corded with muscle. His underwear was plain white, stretched taut.

All three stood before me, hard, vulnerable, waiting for my command. I let the silence stretch, drinking them in—their bodies, their desire, their shame and pride.

I stepped between them, trailing my fingers over bare skin, feeling the way they shivered at my touch. I turned to Rajesh, who was still seated, nearly trembling with anticipation. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it? To see me like this, to know you could summon anyone you wanted and I’d make them beg?”

He nodded, voice gone rough. “Yes. Please.”

I pushed him back into the chair, straddling his lap for a moment, grinding down just enough to make him gasp. Then I slid off, walking to the first guard.

“You,” I said, pressing my hand flat against his chest, feeling his heart racing beneath my palm. “Kneel.”

He obeyed, dropping to his knees, looking up at me with a mixture of awe and need. I cupped his cheek, brushed my thumb over his lips, feeling the heat of his breath.

The other two followed, kneeling beside him, eyes on me, chests heaving, hands fisted on their thighs.

I let my hands wander over their shoulders, down their arms, across their chests. I kissed each one softly, claiming their mouths with slow, searching heat, letting them taste my want, my dominance, my permission.

I pressed my lips to the hollow of one’s throat, biting gently, feeling him shudder under my touch. I ran my hands down the other’s back, fingers tracing the line of his spine, savoring the way he arched into me.

Rajesh watched, spellbound, hands gripping the arms of the chair. “You’re beautiful,” he breathed. “All of you.”

I looked at him, my eyes full of fire. “Touch yourself. Watch, but don’t move from that chair.”

He obeyed, sliding a hand into his boxers, stroking himself as he watched me worship his men. His breaths grew shallow, desperate, matching the rhythm of my hands, my mouth.

I kissed my way down the first guard’s neck, across his broad chest, licking the sweat from his skin. I circled his nipples with my tongue, made him moan, made him beg for more.

I moved to the second, licking a path up his jaw, biting his earlobe, whispering filth and praise. He whimpered, hands trembling on his thighs, aching to touch me.