Wicked Knight Read online

  Something tells me, however, that I’d probably like anything Asher offers, so I throw caution to the wind by taunting, “Do your worst, Asher.”

  “Be careful,” he warns in a low growl. No doubt he wants to strip away any fake aura of confidence I might be trying to fool him with. “I’m of the firm belief that pain enhances pleasure. I can’t wait to teach that to you.”

  My brain fuzzes up a bit at the prospect, an ache forming between my legs. While I have no clue if I would even like such a thing, my body clearly is interested in the concept.

  I have no idea what I’ve gotten myself into with this man, but there’s no turning back now.

  As of this moment, he’s the key to getting my daughter back.

  CHAPTER 7

  Asher

  I shift into third gear, only blocks from the Wicked Horse where I told Hannah to meet me. My entire body is buzzing with anticipation, and I’d be lying if I said part of that wasn’t nervousness.

  It’s not an emotion I’m used to feeling as confidence is my middle name and borderline arrogance is my game. And it’s not Hannah herself who has me apprehensive.

  I mean, she twists me up for sure, but I can handle her.

  What has me on edge is how much I want her. It borders on being out of control, and it’s not something I’m used to.

  Today has dragged by. I could barely concentrate at work, which was not a good thing since I was negotiating the Tyndall property, which my dad seems to think will be a failure. I was able to get my head out of my ass long enough to seal the deal, but then I was off thinking about my upcoming night with Hannah.

  It had been that way since she showed up at my apartment at eight this morning, just as we’d agreed. I shouldn’t have been surprised she showed up in shorts and a t-shirt as September gets hot in Vegas. She had on a pair of comfortable, if not overly worn tennis shoes, and was carting a bucket full of cleaning supplies.

  I opened the front door when she rang the bell, took her all in, and asked, “What’s with the bucket?”

  She rolled her eyes, and my palm tingled with the strong urge to spank her. “You did say you wanted me to clean your apartment, right?”

  “Right,” I say. In actuality, I had totally forgotten that whole “house manager” shit I threw at her to ease her conscience. I made a mental note to call the cleaning company I normally used to cancel their service.

  Hannah didn’t need any instruction on how to clean my apartment as she’d done it before, although I warned her not to break anything else. When I got another eye roll, I had to bite back a smile.

  I gave her a credit card for any purchases she’d need to make, told her my grocery preferences, and how I like my shirts starched from the dry cleaners. She also said she would make dinner for me each evening. She was apparently taking the “house manager” role seriously as she was the utmost professional as we talked.

  That was fine. I let her have her moment of aloofness, knowing she’d melt under my touches tonight.

  Before I left for the office, I told her, “Meet me at the Wicked Horse at eleven. There’s a parking garage attached. Just give your name to the attendant there. He’ll put you in a private spot near the door.”

  Hannah shook her head. “I don’t have a car, so I’ll be taking an Uber.”

  “Why don’t you have a car?” I asked, knowing it was none of my business and I shouldn’t care.

  She shrugged. “It was repoed yesterday.”

  I had a million questions. How could a woman working three jobs not afford a car payment? Why was she so blasé about the fact she’d lost her transportation? And most importantly…

  “That’s why you accepted my offer?” I hazarded a guess.

  Her eyes glittered with amusement. “It was one of a long list of reasons.”

  Damn my fucking curiosity. “What was the top reason?”

  “That’s my business,” she replied primly. Without another word, she walked away from me, heading toward the kitchen to start cleaning.

  I hadn’t liked her having the last word, and besides… there was one more thing I needed to handle with her. I followed her, watching as she unloaded cleaning supplies onto the counter.

  “I want you to get on birth control.” As expected, her mouth dropped open in shock, questions filling her eyes. So I explained. “I want to ditch the condoms.”

  “I’m on the pill,” she stammered.

  I nodded, glad to know I was close to being able to fuck her bare. “And you’ll need to get tested for STDs.”

  Her face turned cherry red. “Excuse me?”

  “Get tested. I’ll do the same today. You can put it on my credit card, since I assume you don’t have any health insurance.”

  Hannah shook her head, a blank expression on her face.

  “If you don’t have a regular doctor, you can see my primary. I can get you an appointment.”

  “I have a doctor,” she muttered, her head ducking down to inventory her supplies.

  “And you can use my other car for any errands you need to run on my behalf.” She didn’t look back up at me. “Keys are in the drawer of the foyer table. It’s the white Mercedes G550 in the garage, and the gate code is 9556.”

  “Okay,” she murmured, still refusing to look at me. Laughing, I’d turned to walk out with one last parting shot. “There’s a box for you in my room. Wear it tonight.”

  I had the briefest glimpse of her head shooting up and her eyes trying to lock with mine, but I gave her my back and sauntered to my door.

  What would she think of the dress I’d bought for tonight?

  Knowing I’m about five minutes away from seeing her in it has my groin starting to tighten, and I barely get my McLaren to a stop in front of the valet stand before I’m jumping out.

  I shove the keys and a twenty at the attendant, who meets me at my door, while ignoring his “Enjoy your evening, Mr. Knight”. My eyes search the crowd lined up to get inside. When I don’t see Hannah, I make my way into the lobby.

  And holy fuck… when I see her, I’m struck practically dumb. The dress I bought is indecent, and it couldn’t be worn anywhere but a sex club. It’s nothing more than strategically crisscrossed strips of black patent leather that barely covers her most private parts. A three-inch shiny black swath cuts across her tits, wide enough to hide the areola in its entirety and thick enough I can’t see her nipples. It’s tight enough that it plumps them up with deep cleavage. Two diagonal straps crossing over her flat stomach attach to a wide piece that wraps around her crotch and ass. It barely covers her pussy. If I were to look at her from behind, I know it would expose the bottoms of her ass cheeks.

  I bought the dress knowing it would make her uncomfortable. I want her off balance. But I also know it will make her feel sexy and goddess like, since I’m sure she can see the reverence for the beauty before me on my face.

  She stands with her legs a few inches apart, one hip slightly cocked. A pair of black sandals that have a wide strap around each ankle with a tiny jeweled crystal dangling from the buckles encase her feet. Arms hanging loose and relaxed, she grips a tiny clutch purse in one hand.

  Her face, though… that’s different. She went heavy on the makeup with dark, smoky eyes and a deep plum stain on her lips. Her hair is a riot of waves, appearing as if she just stepped inside after spending a day on a windy beach.

  I saunter up to her, my eyes roving all over her body. I don’t see an ounce of discomfort on her face, making me wonder if she’s putting on a brave face to take away some of my joy in her innocence to all of this.

  When I reach her, I lift a hand and rub my thumb over her bottom lip. Her breath rushes out, warm and sweet. Glancing at the pad of my thumb, I’m happy to see a purple smudge from her lipstick. I intend to have it all over my cock later.

  “I like this color,” I say gruffly.

  Hannah smirks. “I bet you’re just wondering what it will look like all over your dick, right?”

  “Guilty
,” I admit bluntly.

  “Typical,” she replies, and I throw my head back to laugh. She’s not nearly as uncomfortable as I thought she’d be, and she has a dirty mouth on her. I like that because she’s showing me she has grit, but that just makes me rise to the challenge even more. I bet before the night is through, I’ll have her blushing all over.

  “Shall we?” I ask, holding my arm out gallantly.

  Hannah tucks her hand in the crook of my elbow, and I escort her to the elevator that will take us up to the Wicked Horse.

  Once inside, I release her hand and move mine to her lower back. It’s warm, and I intend to have my mouth there later. Everywhere really.

  “How was your day?” I ask, watching the digital numbers tick higher as the elevator ascends.

  “It was fine,” she murmurs. “I was even able to get into my doctor today for a blood test.”

  My heart slams inside my chest. “Did you get the results yet?”

  “Tomorrow.”

  Well, shit. But all good things come to those who wait. Still, I feel compelled to inform her. “My doctor rushed mine and I’m good to go. As soon as you get yours, let me know.”

  “Yes, sir,” she says tartly.

  “I like you calling me ‘sir,’” I reply darkly, dropping my hand down to her ass. I slide it low, pushing my fingers across bare skin—I knew she couldn’t possibly have panties on under that miniscule amount of leather—and right between her ass cheeks.

  Yelping, she tucks her ass under, but I’m not deterred. Pushing through the warmth straight to the tight opening, I press the tip of my middle finger there.

  She lets out a harsh breath, her body swaying into mine. I chuckle, leaning slightly into her. “My cock is going to love your ass.”

  She shakes her head violently. “No fucking way.”

  “We’ll see,” I say nonchalantly and pull my hand away, only to take hers back again. I squeeze it briefly, and we both watch the numbers ascend until we reach The Wicked Horse.

  When the doors open, I pull Hannah from the elevator, walking briskly through the lobby after nodding to the hostess at the podium. I’m well known by everyone and don’t need to stop to check in.

  “Aren’t we going to have a drink first?” Hannah asks, practically trotting to keep pace with me.

  “Not in the mood.” My reply is terse, and I take a slight left once I make it past the double doors that lead out of the Social Room.

  Down a hallway and into the Waterfall Room.

  It’s a sinfully opulent room with a circular, heated pool in the center. In the middle of that, a waterfall cascades from the ceiling onto a platform about fifteen feet in diameter. It pours through a crystal chandelier that has long ropes of colored prisms hanging from it.

  The flooring of the room is textured cement done in black with silver sparkles and inset colored stones. Along the perimeter are couches and chaises done in shimmery vinyl that can handle wet bodies and bodily fluids. Attendants dressed in black wait in the darkened wings of the room, ready to swoop in to discreetly clean the furniture off as needed.

  On the far side, silvery satin curtains frame a double-glass doorway that leads outside to The Deck. This is an area that’s off limits, since Hannah’s afraid of heights and I don’t want her fainting or getting sick on me.

  “I’m thinking you naked on the middle of that platform, with my face between your legs,” I say in a low voice, and her small hand wrapped in mine jerks with surprise. I tighten my hold, pulling her along.

  “Wait,” she exclaims, the tinge of panic in her voice making my cock start to thicken.

  I don’t answer her or slow my pace.

  “Wait,” she growls and jerks her hand away, planting her feet in place.

  I turn to face her, an amused smile on my face. “Surely you’re not pulling the shy card on me, Hannah.”

  Her chin lifts proudly. “No, but you’re moving just a little fast. This is all a bit… intense.”

  “Which is what makes it exciting, right?” I taunt.

  She turns her head left and then right, taking in the scattered couples and threesomes lounging around.

  Kissing. Fondling. Fucking.

  When she looks back to me, she says, “I just thought we’d ease into things before you put me on center stage with a spotlight shining down on me.”

  An idea comes to mind as I regard her nervously chewing on her lower lip, her arms now wrapped protectively around her stomach.

  Crowding close, I put my palms against her cheeks and force her to look at me. I nod toward the platform in the center of the pool. “You are going to be on center stage there tonight, and I’m going to gorge on your pussy while everyone watches. But perhaps we can have a little fun foreplay before that, maybe off in the shadows to start.”

  Relief fills her eyes, and she gives me a grateful smile. Dipping my head, I press a hard, fast kiss to her mouth.

  Then I have her hand in mine again, and I’m leading her to a curved loveseat tucked into a dark corner. When I reach it, I release my hold on her, turn to face her, and plop down onto the cushion. She stands before me, her head tilted in question.

  I lean back, spread my legs, and start working my belt. Giving her a lecherous grin, I nod toward the floor. “On your knees, Hannah. Let’s mess up that pretty lipstick of yours.”

  Her warm eyes flare wide, then heat up, which I find immensely gratifying. Whether it’s because she’s attracted to me and really wants to suck my cock or because she’s grateful I’m not going to start out in the center of the room where everyone can see us, she drops gracefully to her knees right between my legs. Her hands, oh so warm and tentative, come to rest on my thighs. My muscles leap under her touch as I work my pants open, pulling my fully hard cock out. I’m eager for her mouth.

  Hannah’s eyes are locked onto mine for a moment before her gaze slowly drops down to where I’m now stroking myself. She licks her lower lip, and a groan tears free from my chest.

  “Give me your mouth,” I order, the gruffness of my voice giving away the lust brewing hotly within me.

  Her hand slides up my thigh and takes hold of my dick. My balls cramp just from the warmth of her touch, then my eyes roll into the back of my head when she leans forward and licks the tip.

  I let my breath out slowly, seeping it through my teeth in a silent hiss. My body goes lax as she takes me into her hot mouth and when she moans, causing vibrations to run down my length, I pray to God I don’t blow my load like a schoolboy.

  Feeling brave, I open my eyes, staring down my body at her beautiful head bobbing over me. I touch her hair, sift my fingers through it, and gently grip the back of her head lest she think to pull away. Punching my hips up, I take way too much satisfaction in the slight choking sound it produces from her, but then I settle back and let her set the pace.

  And after I come down her throat, I’m going to put her on that platform in the middle of the pool. I’m going to make her come over and over again, and then I’m going to fuck her hard for the whole goddamn club to see.

  And when I’m done with that, I’m going to take her to another room and fuck her again.

  Probably once more after that.

  If my estimation is right, I won’t be able to get enough of her.

  CHAPTER 8

  Hannah

  I save the dusting of Asher’s apartment as the last of my chores for the day. It’s sort of a nostalgic thing for me, since it was my dusting of his Chihuly vase that landed me in his bed.

  Or rather, in his sex club.

  We’ve not been on a bed yet.

  Couches, pools, and pillows, but not on a good old-fashioned mattress.

  I wait for a flush of shame to hit me, but that’s happening less and less when I think of my current situation. Perhaps I’ve just tucked it away into a box and placed it in a far corner of my mind, or perhaps I just don’t care anymore because I’ve got a good opportunity to get custody of Hope now. However it boils down, I can�
�t bemoan a situation where I’m working less hours, making more money, and having enough extra to fight for my daughter.

  The attorney I hired is going to file a motion with the court to reconsider the terms of custody and child support. He wants me to have at least a month of employment under my belt at my new job. Of course, I didn’t tell him “house manager” was just a term used to mean “sex toy,” but I was confident that would never be an issue. Asher put me on his payroll, and I’m having taxes taken out. I had to fill out a W-9 and everything. He even went as far as to offer me health insurance, which I wasn’t idiotic enough to turn my nose up at.

  Of course, all these things happened after our night together in the Waterfall Room at The Wicked Horse, and they happened via email and text. I haven’t seen Asher since then.

  There was no explanation as to why he hasn’t asked me back to the Wicked Horse, and he’s been gone to work each morning by the time I’ve arrived at his place. He’ll usually leave me a handwritten note of what he wants done. If he doesn’t, I just clean the same areas I’d cleaned the day before. Asher has what must be the cleanest abode in the state of Nevada.

  I start with his bedroom, an area of the apartment that affects me the most because it smells just like Asher. It’s decorated in black and gray with just tiny hints of white. It’s stark and barren, but it’s decorated just like the rest of his apartment. There are no personal photographs of his family, nor any warm or whimsical pieces of art adorning the walls. The black lacquered furniture is austere, but at least it shows any dust that might dare to have accumulated since I cleaned the previous day.

  I make short work of his room and the spare bedroom, moving past his locked private office he instructed me to ignore my first day. The kitchen has already been scrubbed top to bottom, so I head into the living room. When I finish that, I turn to the foyer, which has a small table on one side of the door and the white marble pedestal that used to house his Chihuly vase before I broke it.

  I see something laying on the top of it I hadn’t noticed when I let myself in this morning. As I get closer, I see it’s a photograph of something I recognize at once.