Page 13 of The Casella King

How far will I be willing to go?

“Yes.” I keep my answer short because I’m still trying to process everything that’s happened tonight. My brain is having trouble keeping up with all this crazy shit.

The music pounds through my ears and thumps through my chest as we walk hand in hand through the club. Ezra’s fingersare laced with mine, pulling me through hundreds of sweaty bodies, all the way to the top VIP floor.

The floor is high up, with a clear view of the dance floor below and the main bar on the right. The VIP floor has a few people already in the corner of the booth on my left and at a smaller-sized bar on the right. Ezra pulls me into the love seat just beside the bar, onto his lap. I watch as Henry waits by the entry to the VIP floor, never taking his eyes off us. A bunch of women sitting at the booth across from us look our way, a sour look on their faces as they look me up and down.

What the hell is their problem?

I feel Ezra’s hand move over my thigh, caressing, then squeezing as he leans into my ear, his hot breath raising goose bumps on my skin.

“This is where you show me you know what you’re doing.”

I feel the vibrations of his husky voice travel through me, louder than the music ever will be. I look at him over my shoulder as I lift my dress, showing the skin on my leg as I cross it over the other, and wrapping my arms around his neck, l lean into him. The side of my breast presses against him, and he looks to me as his hand reaches my exposed thigh, travelling further north, his eyes boring into my soul, watching my body respond to his touch. My breath shakes as I feel my heartbeat between my legs, throbbing, begging for attention. It’s been so long since a man has touched me that I almost feel desperate for it. He takes my lips with his, and he’s not gentle about it, his tongue demanding access into my mouth. I swirl my fingers through the base of his hair as my other hand travels inside his button-up shirt, our mouths moving together as one. I think I hear a moan, but I’m not sure if it came from me or him. I feel his hand squeeze my upper thigh once more, dangerously close to my ass. I try my best to catch my breath as his lips trail from my neck to my collarbone, sending a zap of electricity straight tomy nipples, aching for his mouth. My body betrays my rational thoughts as his hand slips higher, clutching my ass, and I feel him beneath me, his hard cock poking into the side of my thigh, the sheer length, even beneath his clothes is enough to send my imagination running wild.

You don’t know this man.

He’s a killer.

He’s involved with crime.

I squeeze my eyes shut to try and hear my own thoughts and to at least try to disassociate with my current reality.

But he’s so fucking good at that.

His lips trace back up to my mouth, and when I open my eyes, I see his gaze directly on my breasts.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Think about anything else.

LITERALLY ANYTHING ELSE.

It’s no use because all I can think about is his mouth over my nipples, sucking them, flicking them with his tongue.

I pull myself away from him.

“Excuse me, I—uh, I need to use the restroom,” I manage to say through my ragged breathing, and he nods to Henry as I stand up, watching out of the corner of my eye as Ezra adjusts himself. Walking over to Henry, he directs me to the women’s restroom. Entering, I bang my clutch on the counter, looking at myself in the mirror.

“You’re in way over your head.” I speak to myself softly, doubting my ability to keep this thing professional and not catch feelings or end up fucking this man. I take a few deep breaths in, trying not to focus on my throbbing clit, when the door opens, letting in the loud music, and there’s laughter as a couple of women enter. They stop when they see me, and I try not to look at them, to ignore them. I open my clutch and reach for my lipstick.

“It shouldn’t be you, you know.”

I turn to the one who spoke, and I notice she’s the one who was giving me dirties the whole time in the VIP room.

“Excuse me?” My voice comes out meaner than I wanted it to.

“You’re not even in this world. You should run whilst you have the chance,” she says as she walks into the cubicle and slams the door shut, leaving me staring at the other woman, now fixing her hair in the mirror.

“She’s right. The Casella King is known to be unforgiving, relentless, and psychotic.” Her words send a rush through me, when they should scare me. “She’s just jealous she’s not in your place, but if I were you”—she turns to me, looking me square in the eyes—“run, if you still have the chance.”

I exit the restroom, suddenly feeling a little uneasy about the situation I have gotten myself into.

Maybe they’re just jealous?

Or they could totally be right.

Henry guides me back over to where Ezra is sitting, now with what looks like a scotch in his hand. He waves me down, and I take my seat on his lap again.

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