Page 31 of Clipped Wings

“How are you handling the shipment to Seoul?” I asked him. The Murrays had taken over operations at the waterfront for the meantime. They were dealing with the increase in work well, but our partners in South Korea were particular. They liked things done a certain way and paid extra for it.

Bryan’s attention was lost along with a few of the others. He was staring at the stage as a unique, alluring song began to play—an ominous remix of one of La Roux’s hits. Bryan’s immaturity showed on his face. It was infuriating that he couldn’t get through a simple briefing without glancing at the dancers.

“Holy shit, she’s hot,” he muttered, eyes glued to the stage.

I took a swig of my drink, looking to the heavens for help. “Next time McKenzie suggests we gather at his club, may we all remember that Murray can’t keep his dick in his pants for an hour.”

The men laughed, but Kieran stiffened out of the corner of my eye. Really? Him too?

“Is that…” Kieran trailed off, an incredulous smile adorning his gaping mouth. “Emma?”

At the mention of her name, I froze. My gaze followed his down to the rest of the club and, in particular, the stage. There was a small girl on it, wearing a short white dress that I recognized. It flowed around her as she twirled, hand on the pole. She bent at the waist in one languid move, then stood again, twirling her long dark hair around a finger. Her gaze melted when she looked out into the crowd of black suits—a room filled with dozens of men who were bidding on her for a private dance.

She reached behind her body, undoing the childlike bow at her lower back, then let the dress slide off. Underneath she wore practically nothing, just a silver mesh bra and a diamond thong. Her heels were at least six inches high, but she danced like she’d been doing it her whole life. She wrapped a long, toned leg around the pole and spun, her head tilted back, her hair a sexy mess.

“Jesus, what did her daddy do to her?” Sweeney chuckled.

Kieran watched in disbelief as I jumped from my seat, letting the door slam after I burst from the room. I flew down the stairs and onto the main floor, refusing to take my sight off Emma.

It’d been two weeks since I had laid eyes on the light of my life. I wanted to wrap her in my arms and never let go. Another part of me wanted to circle my fingers around her throat for her behavior. She was dancing onstage, naked and swaying her hips for a room full of horny executives. She was mine. I reached a vacant lounge chair near the stage and pushed the button on the arm, holding it down so that my bid could catch up to the others.

Emma faced the intricate backdrop, her backside to the crowd. She squatted down, her decadent ass on full display, and traced a line from the strap of her heel to her neck, teasing the crowd. She turned around, sucking her finger into her mouth, hollowing her cheeks around the digit.

God help me, if I wasn’t rock-hard. I was imagining all of the ways I could punish her for this. I wanted to begin now, but the stage was elevated to prevent horny men from grabbing the merchandise. The club made its money from private dances. I had to pay to get the girl.

The patron next to me noticed my interest. He moved a hand to up his bid, but paused at the look on my face.

“If you press that button,” I snarled, “I’ll cut off your fingers, one by one, and feed them to you raw.”

He pulled his fat hand back, moving it to adjust the hard-on in his pants as he watched Emma. I considered pulling the pistol from my waistband and shooting him in the kneecap. But the song was almost over, and I had the highest bid.

As her dance came to a merciful end, Emma’s eyes finally found mine, lighting with fire as she took in the sight of me. It softened my heart a little, but not enough. She opened the locked gate at the edge of the stage and descended the steps with care, her delicate fingers held out toward me. I grabbed her wrist, hauled her avian-like body over my shoulder, and deposited her in one of the private rooms. I slammed the door behind me to block off the other men’s stares. Their attention was diverted as another dancer got onstage.

I was fuming, but unraveled in front of Emma’s deep, sultry stare. With one glance, she could scatter my brain. She was more beautiful than I remembered, although my fantasies never did her justice. The diamonds of her panties twinkled, refracting the subtle green lighting in the room. She stood demurely, one long leg crossed over the other.

As I neared her, her gaze raked over me, ravenous. When I towered over her, within arm’s reach, she skated her hand down my chest, past my buckle, then wrapped her fingers around my pulsing cock.

That was all it took. I lost my internal battle. Lust first, fury second.

Spinning her toward the wall, I ripped that stupid thong off. The Swarovski diamonds skittered across the stone floor. I bent, kissing her glittery ass before sinking my teeth into it—just enough to let her know who she belonged to. She let out a high-pitched moan, a mixture of surprise and impatience. She braced herself against the wall, arching her backside into my face. Kicking her legs farther apart, I had my cock out in the next second.

I sank into her heat with ease, my eyes rolling into the back of my head. “Fucking hell, Emma.”

Her core sucked me deeper, pulsing around my length. She was dripping, arousal coating her thighs. I pressed her head against the wall, burying myself to the hilt. She gasped at my greedy intrusion, her breathing uneven. I’d been envisioning this moment for weeks, praying for the break in my nightmares in which Emma played a starring role.

The rest of the world disappeared as I slammed into her, over and over and over, chasing my need like a starving wolf. All that mattered was this, the moment our two bodies became one. Like magnets, we’d always find each other.

Wrapping her wild hair around my fist, I pulled her back against my chest, supporting her weight. Pinpricks of light danced inside my brain at the adorable sounds she made. Her whimpers turned into low moans, followed by my own feral grunts.

“Don’t you fucking come, Emma,” I growled into her ear. “You take your punishment like a good little dove.”

“Punishment?” she gasped, her head falling onto my shoulder. I was almost as shocked as her. How could she not understand why I was upset?

“You’re mine,” was all I could muster, my breath becoming hard to catch. I pulled her earlobe into my mouth and sucked hard. She squirmed in response, but I pushed my free hand flat against her pelvis, keeping her still against me, feeling my hard cock thrust inside her. “You don’t parade yourself in front of other men.”

She scoffed. “I do whatever I fucking want.”

Her disobedience sent me over the edge. Emma was an expert at toeing the line that was my patience. She transformed my anger into the ultimate form of pleasure. I pressed her flush with the wall, pistoning into her. I was a madman, seeking release at any and all cost. Words were flying from my lips, but I couldn’t recall what they were—or if I was even speaking English. I’d been dipping in and out of Irish for weeks.

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