Page 25 of Merciless Queen

“Zeno,” he answers immediately, proving he’s telling the truth and likely has no idea who I am. Many have tried to lie when I ask.Trybecause the attempts are feeble and obvious, but quickly followed with a terrified admittance that with their name, I can easily find them afterwards.

I like that he doesn’t lie, but it makes sense he’d have no idea about me. Visiting from Italy means he’s a complete outsider, which is even more ideal. Even less complicated because he won’t try to linger in my house after I finish with him.

“Do I get yours?” He follows up with.

I purse my lips with my fake consideration, already having an answer decided. “In time. I don’t give away my name as freely as you obviously do.”

Zeno’s eyelids drop lower, his gaze settling heavier on me as he moves closer and plucks the glass from my hand. He rests it out of the way before lowering his head into my neck, his warm breath coasting over my skin, similar to when we were dancing. It’s a sensation I welcome, closing my own eyes and simply enjoying the feel of him.

“I give my name so freely because when a woman who’s used to being in control asks for it, who am I to deny her that?”

“How’d you know?” I ask, voice a bit breathier than normal. I’m staggering more than usual, and it’s discerning.

“Know what?” I hear the smile in his tone. “You exude confidence. Control. Dominance.” That’s a near-whisper. So low, it’s nearly impossible to hear over our proximity to the music speakers blaring out some song with indecipherable lyrics.

Regardless, I hear him enough. Hear his words whispered along my skin, imprinting the promise of later into me. Feel his interest, and my insides clench, anticipating what’s to come.

Zeno’s hand snakes around my waist and trails up my side until reaching bare skin. Goosebumps sprout, my breath becoming heavier. He’s making me…confused, is the only term I can come up with. Confused because normally the men I interact with are simple. Show some interest, take them home, fuck them until I’m sated, and send them on their way. It’s rare for my body to react in ways it is now: with a genuine desire that’s going past my Friday night self-care habits.

It's downright uncomfortable to allow a man this kind of control over me. Perhaps there’s a perfectly good reason he has this ability, because later, when I’m in charge of his pleasure, I get to not only return the favour, but experience an actualgoodfucking.

“Am I wrong?” he continues. “You’ve gotten quiet.”

I turn so my shoulder jabs into his hard chest, forcing him to lean away. “Not at all,” I reply, voice low and smooth. “Just surprised you picked up on it.”

He scoffs, but it sounds more like a chuckle. “Sounds like an insult. Not very hospitable to a visitor, no?” His hand trails up my arm and around my back, tickling my spine before stroking a patch of skin below my hairline. A gentle stoke as he levels up the game I initiated below.

“If you wanted hospitable, you should have chosen another woman.”

“I think I’ve chosen the right one for me.”

“Yeah?” A brow lifts and I reach for his waist, hooking a finger through one of his belt loops and dragging him closer. His gentle touch was sweet, seductive, but now I must show him what being with me is all about. My other hand wraps his neck and it’s my turn to whisper into his ear. “If that’s what you feel, then here’s how this will go: you’ll come home with me foronenight. I’m a busy woman, therefore I need nothing more than tonight from you. You’ll obey me, and then you’ll leave. No questions asked, and we will never see one another again.”

He smiles. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

We endup each having one more drink before I drag him down outside, leading him straight to the back seat of my Aurus Senat—a purchase from my father’s days—and immediately hike the divider between my driver and us.

After his light petting inside and the alcohol vibrating through my system, this stranger is becoming my entire craving. The car barely pulls away before I readjust myself over hislap, the denim of his pants rubbing against the thin silk of my panties.

Grasping the sides of his face, I press my mouth to his,finallytasting him. I don’t always like to show my cards inside public spaces, and by the end of our final drink, it was difficult to hold back from kissing him.

Zeno groans beneath me and clutches my hips, pinning me on top though there’s nowhere else I’d rather be. His lips part, his tongue coming out to meet mine. His kiss is slow and tentative but still confident. Like he’s knowingly giving me the control but isn’t shy about it either.

I weave my fingers between his and remove them from my hips, instead pinning them to his sides. Beneath me, his cock grows harder until I can feel him through the denim.

He breaks from my mouth, panting. “Please tell me you don’t live far.”

“Ten minutes.” I nip his bottom lip with my teeth before kissing down the side of his neck. His light moan makes my core clench and I lower myself as much as I can, rubbing my wet panties along his length. “Gives me time to ask about your limits.”

“What limits?” he replies, his throat moving beneath my lips with a heavy gulp.

I trail my mouth back up his neck, breaking away and leaning back far enough to catch his gaze and seek out the truth or lie. Some men, like admitting their name, lie to tell me what they think I want to hear. That if they respond differently, I’ll be done with them before we even start.

But Zeno only stares back unblinkingly. An honesty, a nakedness reflecting back at me.

“Careful,” I warn. “Dangerous claim to make.”

He grins, reminding me of the cheeky man on the dance floor. “Maybe I like dangerous women.”

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