The Mercenary's Bond

What I Need

Standing by the edge of the railing was a guy who looked like he’d been custom-built to ruin a woman's night in the best way possible. Broad, muscular shoulders under a dark henley, dark hair falling messy over his forehead, and a sharp, devastating jawline. He was easily six-foot-two, with a lean, lethal build that made my inner mercenary take notice.

He was scrumptious.

As if he could physically feel the weight of my eyes on him, he slowly turned his head. His eyes locked onto mine across the dark, crowded room. The intensity in his gaze hit me like a physical touch.

I gave him a slow, wicked smirk, caught my bottom lip between my teeth, and let my hips sway seamlessly to the heavy beat of the song, never breaking eye contact.

Message received.

He set his drink down on a high-top table without taking his eyes off me for even a fraction of a second. Pushing off the railing, he cleared the steps into the crowd and started making his way straight toward me.

He closed the distance between us until the heat radiating off his body cut right through the cool draft of the club. I didn't stop moving, keeping my hips swaying to the heavy sub-bass, tilting my head up to meet his dark, piercing eyes.

Without a word, his large hand came up, long fingers cupping my jaw and tilting my chin higher. He leaned down, his lips brushing the shell of my ear, his deep voice sliding over the music. "You wanna have some fun tonight?"

"That depends," I said softly, my lips brushing his jawline as I let my eyes slowly travel down his broad chest, his narrow waist, and back up to his face. "Can you give me what I need?"

A dangerous smirk tugged at his lips. Instead of answering right away, he grabbed my waist, spun me smoothly around, and pulled my back flush against his chest.

Holy sh*t.

The hard, solid length of his d**k pressed right against the small of my back, heavy and unyielding even through his jeans. I didn't hesitate for a single second—I instantly arched my back, grinding my hips slowly back into him with a low hum in my throat.

He leaned down again, his hot breath fanning across my neck as his hand slid down to grip my hip, anchoring me against him. "Yes," he whispered, his voice low and raspy.

He definitely wasn't small. In fact, he felt like exactly what I needed to burn off two weeks of brutal combat drills and iron-fisted academy rules.

We stayed like that for a few heat-soaked minutes on the crowded floor, moving together in a slow, rhythmic grind that had my pulse racing and my mouth going dry. Every shift of his hips against mine built the tension higher, until the air between us felt thick enough to catch fire.

When the song faded into the next track, he reached down, wrapped his hand around mine, and gave a firm pull, leading me through the sea of bodies toward the velvet-draped stairs of his VIP section.

As he pulled me along, I glanced over my shoulder toward the main bar. Linda and Rowan were standing side-by-side, watching me with amused expressions. I caught Linda’s eye, held up my free hand, and flashed her a bright, exaggerated thumbs-up.

Linda burst out laughing, shaking her head while Rowan just chuckled and raised his drink to me.

They knew exactly how I operated, and they loved me anyway.

Turning back around, I let the hot stranger pull me up the stairs and into the dark, shadowed privacy of the booth.

He pulled the heavy velvet curtains shut, cutting us off from the view of the club, and then pulled shut a pair of sleek, soundproof glass doors I hadn't even noticed were there. Instantly, the thundering bass dropped to a muffled, distant hum.

He turned around, his dark eyes locking onto mine, and dropped all pretense. "Take off your clothes."

The raw, uncompromising demand hit me like a physical rush, making my pulse spike and a sudden, sharp heat swell between my thighs. I didn't hesitate. Keeping my gaze locked on his, I unzipped my leather jacket, let it fall to the floor, and slowly slipped out of my lace top and dark jeans, leaving myself exposed under the dim VIP lighting.

He unbuttoned his shirt, throwing it aside, and unzipped his pants, letting them drop to the rug. When he released his d**k, he reached down, wrapping his fingers around his solid shaft and slowly stroking himself as he stared at my body.

"Get on your knees and come here," he ordered, his voice thick and raspy.

Oh God, yes.

I dropped to my hands and knees, my skin tingling under his intense gaze as I slowly crawled across the plush carpet toward him.

His eyes tracked my every movement, a low growl escaping his chest. "You are so f*cking hot."

I stopped right between his thighs, coming face-to-face with his massive, erect length. He looked down at me, a tight smirk on his lips. "Come on, don't be shy now."

I flashed him a wicked smirk, reached up to grip the base of his d**k, and took him deep into my mouth. I worked him rhythmically, deliberately gagging every now and then around his thick head to make him feel even bigger, my throat tightening around him as I picked up the speed.

It worked better than I even expected—he lasted barely five minutes under my mouth before he groaned, his hips jerking forward as he came, hot and heavy, straight down my throat.