Page 138 of Sugar

That shouldn’t be hot. None of it should be.

Yet it was.

Arousal surged to my sex and coated my thighs until I worried it would leave a stain on the cushion under me.

Matching heat filled his dark gaze, and he shifted forward suddenly. My breath caught, and I braced, waiting to see what he would do.

If we would leave or if he would take me to a backroom.

I knew it had to be one of those.

Before he could tell me which, Cohen and Atlas approached. Cohen flopped down in the vacant chair and stretched a leg out. Atlas positioned himself behind his brother as he kept a watchful gaze on the room. Just as Easton had said, neither spoke to me. Neither even glanced at me.

And since he hadn’t said otherwise, I remained silent, too.

It was the right choice. He reached out to tease his fingers along my shoulders as he asked them, “Has it been this busy all night?”

“Busier,” Atlas grumbled as his brother grinned and nodded.

The glass of champagne was set in front of Easton—with again no reaction by the server—and he lifted it. His gaze dropped to me, and there was a challenge in them I didn’t understand. “Are you thirsty, Madeline?”

I nodded and reached for it. I cringed when the chains rattled and pulled taut.

He cupped my jaw in his free hand. “Open.”

I thought he was going to pour the drink into my mouth. That would’ve been dominant enough.

He didn’t.

When I did as he said, he held my eyes as he took a hefty sip of the champagne.

And then he bent and let the stream run from his mouth to mine.

It was degrading and domineering. Insane and filthy.

And I loved it so fucking much, I was pretty sure I nearly came.

My cheeks flushed from the desire and from having that response publicly.

“So perfect.” His voice was a gravelly rumble filled with pride and fire. “And all of it mine.”

He kept that hold on my face as he returned to his conversation like that wasn’t a wild thing to have done.

And it wasn’t. Not to them or anyone else around us.

In that moment, I understood why we were there.

Gilded was the one public place where he could show exactly how much control he wielded over me. After what he’d overheard, he must’ve wanted to flex that power.

Even if I wasn’t enjoying it—which I very much was—I would’ve done almost anything he ordered. Because with a smile curving his mouth, Easton relaxed for the first time all night.

I’ddone that for him.

After a while, I tested how much leeway his grip gave me and inched forward. His alert eyes darted down to check in with me as his hand slid down my throat.

I smiled up at him—the epitome of fake innocence—and contrary to the stern warning in his glare, the rest of his expression softened.

I pushed my luck and whispered, “Take me home?”