Page 8 of Savage Rule

As predicted, sitting in a table at the very front is none other than my delicious adversary.

My lips pull upward as the stripper on stage finishes her dance and she goes off the other side.

The DJ comes through the speakers overhead. “Tonight we have a little surprise guest for you. Someone we don’t get to hang out with often. She’s a good friend of ours and she’s promisedus one dance. We take what we can get. Everyone, give it up for Peaches!”

I take a step forward, but hesitate when the redexitsign over a door at the rear catches my eye. The smart thing would be to turn around and use that door. Fucking hightail it out of here.

But when the song the DJ chooses for me, Closer by Nine Inch nails, begins to play, the little devil on my shoulder whispers,Please. Play with him.

Damn. Even in this light he looks so fucking good sitting there, his shoulders broad, his jean clad legs so long he can’t get them under that tiny round table.

My own legs start to move as if on their own accord toward the pole set in the center of the stage. The crowd goes wild as I take hold of it and begin to spin. I undulate the way I know will draw the most cheers, throwing an ass wiggle here and there. But when I turn to the audience and drop slowly onto my knees, it’s only one man’s gaze I’m interested in.

I give Gunn my most seductive smile, one that lets him know this dance is just for him. When he smiles back, his dimples deep and long, I crawl toward him. A moth to a hot ass flame.

When I reach the steps, I stand, but don’t release his stare as I make my way to him.

My grin widens when I stop in front of him. I place my palm on his chest and am pleased when he allows me to push him back to make room for me on his lap. There’s a mix of cheers and boos from the audience which is both excited to live vicariously through my chosen man, and disappointed it’s not them.

But the sound quickly fades into the background as I focus my attention only on Gunn.

“Hello, Peaches,” he says in a gravelly tone when I straddle him.

“Why, I do declare, it’s Gunn with two Ns,” I say, using the southern accent I grew up with. “Don’t tell me you came all the way down here for little ol’ me.”

“Just for you, baby.”

I grind myself over him, feeling something huge and rigid against my core. “I’d ask if that’s a knife in your pants, but I can tell you’re just that happy to see me.”

He doesn’t deny it. In fact, his wolfish grin shows his pride in what he’s packing. “What can I say, sweet peaches. The thought of your neck in my hands gives me a hard on.”

“Oh come now. You’re going to hurt my feelings.”

Groaning when I grind harder, he says, “I’m going to do a lot more than that. So why don’t we take this somewhere private? You don’t want witnesses to your demise.”

“My demise!” I laugh. The man is cuteandfunny!

I cock my head to the side as I peer into his handsome face. Then, because I can’t help it, I lift my fingertip to his left dimple. “I’m going to lick this before you die.”

His eyes go darker than I’ve ever seen them before and the heat in my core rises to dangerous levels.

“I want to hurt you,” he whispers and I can hardly breathe.

Bringing my mouth close to his ear and pressing my breasts to his chest, molding myself to him as much as this position allows, I say, “I might let you. But you’ll have to catch me first.”

I pull away slightly, enough that our noses are almost tip to tip. Around us, everyone applauds, probably believing I’m going to kiss him.

My fingers dig into his T-shirt and into the tense muscle beneath. I want to kiss him. I want to test him and see how far he’d let me go. However, that thing I said about it being too dangerous to get wasted in public is true. That goes for any intoxicating substance, and something tells me a taste of Gunn’slips would be mind-altering. I’d let him kill me and probably like it.

Someday, maybe. Not today. I’m not ready to die just yet.

With a slight groan of disappointment, I shove myself off and run.

I lived with the Garcia family for six months when I was ten years old. They had four children of their own. The youngest three were nice enough, shared their toys and played with me. But it was the eldest that taught me to hide and seek.

Mauricio was fifteen and fucking strong and the one we were all afraid of getting found by. Because when he did, he’d use his punching system. Ten punches was the starting count, one less for each minute it took him to find us. A sort of reward. If it took him nine minutes, you only got punched once. But even that one hit was brutal.

I learned really quick how to dodge his line of sight when he was on the hunt. I could make myself disappear into the tiniest of hidey holes for as long as it took for him to give up.

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