Page 8 of Ravaged Hearts

The pair spoke about airports and logistics, but I barely grasped a word, because Vaughn’s hand was steadily creeping up my leg. As his fingertips moved higher and higher, they made tantalizing swirling motions against the sensitive skin of my inner thigh. Another inch and he’d breach the hem of my already indecently short dress.

If Vaughn noticed my apprehension, he didn’t show it. His focus remained on the conversation with Miguel.

“What am I moving?” Vaughn asked.

Miguel shrugged. “Does it matter?”

“I need to know what temperature to set the cargo compartments, so if there’s anything alive at the start of the trip and you want it to still be breathing by the end, then yeah, I need to know what I’m moving.”

Miguel took a puff on his cigar. “Women and drugs.”

“What’s my cut?”

“Five percent.”

“Twenty. There’ll be greedy palms I’ll have to grease in Cali.”

The negotiation continued, and Vaughn’s fingers drew ever closer to my panties. My fingernails dug into his shoulders, partly because I wasn’t sure how far he intended to take this, but also because—to my utter shame and embarrassment—I was turned on. No matter where we were and who we were with, Vaughn’s touch was more consuming than any external influence.

I flinched when the pad of his finger pressed against the damp scrap of silk between my thighs. My piercing stare bore into the side of Vaughn’s face. I wished I had telepathic powers so I could yellWhat in the actual fuck?But he only licked his bottom lip as though holding in one of his smug grins. The jerk knewexactlywhat he was doing to me.

“Fine. Ten,” agreed Miguel.

“I can work with that,” Vaughn replied.

Then a finger pushed my panties aside and slid across the drenched seam of my pussy.

I made a startled, high-pitched sound and clamped my thighs together, trapping Vaughn’s movements.

Suddenly, the room turned silent. My gaze landed on the other men. Each of them stared at where the table concealed my lower half as if willing it to become transparent.

With his free hand, Vaughn turned my face toward his. In afirm tone, he said, “You focus on me. You don’t look at anyone else in this room. Got it?”

I nodded, then remembered what was expected of me. “Yes, master.”

“Good,” he said with a disarming smile. “Now open your legs for me.”

A chair creaked when one of the men fidgeted. Someone refilled the whiskey glasses, but no one uttered a single word.

Chest heaving and heart pounding, I stared into Vaughn’s dark eyes, trying to understand why he’d ask this of me. Yes, he could be an ass, but I never imagined he’d be cruel to me in front of these men. Not without good reason.

Then it dawned on me. Maybe Vaughn was doing this because he wanted them distracted. My deer-in-headlights expression seemed only to build their excitement. This must be part of his plan.

He’d warned me I’d need to do things outside my comfort zone. He’d also told me I’d need to do exactly as he said. All things considered, a blow job under the table would’ve been far more degrading, so I figured I was getting off lightly.

Here goes nothing.

On a shaky breath, I relaxed and let my legs part a little.

Vaughn’s grin was positively predatory, and something about it sent tingles straight to my core. Judging by the hard rod pressing into the side of my thigh, he wasn’t unaffected, either.

Then his lips were at my ear. “Let them hear you,” he whispered only for me, then nipped my ear, making me flinch again.

Vaughn needed me to let go of my inhibitions. Could I really do that seated at a table with strange men? Maybe if I concentrated on Vaughn, I could pretend it was only the two of us in the room. Besides, the others couldn’t see anything going on below the table, only my reactions.

After sliding a finger through my wetness, Vaughn circled my clit with just enough pressure to make me squirm.

His gaze lingered on me for a moment before returning to Miguel. “Where were we?”

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