Chapter 5
The Client’s fingers tighten in my hair, yanking my head back so hard my spine arches like a bowstring. His breath is hot against my ear, his voice a blade wrapped in velvet. “You think you’ve been used before, mon chaton? Tonight, you’ll learn what it really means to be shared.”
His free hand slides down my throat, over my collarbone, then grips my breast hard enough to make me gasp. m
His friends stand in a circle, their masks gleaming under the low lights, they look like they’re ready to feast on me. I can smell the leather of their gloves even the whiskey on their breath.I should be terrified. I should be.
Instead, my cunt clenches, empty and aching.
The Client chuckles, low and knowing, as if he can hear the traitorous pulse between my legs. “Good girl,” he murmurs, th
