Note: This chapter is explicit. R18+

The music throbbed like a heartbeat, pulsing through the velvet-walled VIP lounge of Club Crimson. The scent of smoke, sex, and expensive whiskey hung in the air like fog. Red lights bathed the room in a sinful glow, blurring inhibitions and sharpening cravings.

Sienna DeLuca didn't belong here.

Which was exactly why she came.

Perched on the lap of a man whose name she didn't know...nor care to...she tilted her head back and laughed at something she hadn't heard. Her silk dress clung to her curves like a second skin, the slit revealing smooth, bronzed thigh every time she shifted.

The man's hand slid higher. "You're so fucking hot," he muttered, lips brushing her neck. "You know who your father is, right?"

She smiled lazily. "Do you?"

"I do. Marco DeLuca. The goddamn King of the East Coast. I could get killed for touching you."

Her red lips parted as her eyes met his. "Then you'd better make it worth it."

He chuckled and leaned in, his hand pressing between her legs, but her eyes drifted past him ...to the shadows.

And there he was.

Alone. Silent. Watching.

Killian Black.

He didn't sit like other men. He sprawled, as if the world answered to him. A glass of whiskey in one gloved hand, tattoos barely visible beneath the rolled sleeves of his black shirt, his face half-hidden beneath low lighting and a scar that ran from his brow to his cheekbone.

Cold. Commanding. Controlled.

Everything her father trusted.

Everything she wanted to ruin.

"I'm getting hard just thinking about it," the stranger groaned, fumbling with his zipper.

Sienna's gaze didn't leave Killian.

"I changed my mind," she said suddenly.

"What?"

She slid off his lap, fixing her dress. "You're boring."

The man stood, angry and aroused. "Don't fuck with me, bitch. You think you can tease and walk away?"

Before his words finished hanging in the air, a blur of motion descended on him.

Killian moved like a weapon.

In one brutal strike, he had the guy slammed against the wall, his arm twisted, face smashed to the velvet. The entire lounge went still.

"Apologize," Killian ordered, voice like ice.

"F-Fuck-alright, alright, I'm sorry!"

He released him. The man stumbled away, humiliated, swearing under his breath as he disappeared down the stairs.

Killian turned to her.

"Are you out of your fucking mind?"

"I was bored," she said, lips curving. "You looked like you could use a show."

Killian stared at her for a beat longer than necessary.

Then he grabbed her arm-not gentle, but not cruel...and pulled her through the side door, down a hall lined with locked private suites. No words were spoken.

The door shut behind them with a sharp click.

And then it began.

His hands were on her in a flash. One tangled in her hair, the other palming her ass, yanking her flush against his hard chest.

"You're a brat," he growled against her ear. "You think you can play with fire and not get burned?"

"I thought you were here to protect me," she whispered.

"I am," he snarled. "Even from yourself."

Then he kissed her.

No warning. No hesitation. Just heat.

Teeth clashed. Tongues battled. Her back slammed into the wall as he lifted her, her legs wrapping around him like they belonged there. His fingers dragged up the inside of her thigh, pausing only to rip her panties off with a savage grunt.

"Killian-" she gasped.

"Shut up."

His belt clanked. His pants dropped just enough. Her breath caught as she felt the hard, hot weight of him between her legs.

"You want to play grown-up games, princess?" he said, sliding his cock through her soaked folds. "Then take it like one."

He thrust into her in one smooth, brutal stroke.

She screamed.

Not out of pain-but because she'd never been taken like this. Not with reverence, not with hesitation. But with claiming. Like she was his to ruin.

And she loved every second of it.

His hands gripped her thighs as he pounded into her, rhythm savage, deep. The sound of skin against skin echoed in the small room, her moans mixing with his growls.

"God," she cried, head falling back. "You're insane."

"No," he gritted, driving deeper. "I'm the only man who knows how to handle you."

He grabbed her jaw and forced her to look at him. "Say it."

"Say what?"

"That you're mine."

Her eyes burned, lips parted. "Make me."

A wicked smirk tugged at his mouth.

He flipped her.

Bent her over the leather armchair in the room, shoved her dress up, and spanked her-once, hard enough to leave a sting.

"You don't give orders here."

His cock slid back in. She arched with a cry, gripping the armrests like her life depended on it.

Thrust after thrust, he worked her, broke her, rebuilt her.

And just as she was about to explode-

"Killian...!"

He stopped.

"Beg," he said.

"W...What?"

"You want to come? Then beg me for it."

She whimpered. The fire between her thighs unbearable.

"Please," she gasped. "Please, I need it-I need you-"

And just like that, he gave it to her.

They shattered together, breathless, shaking, tangled in lust and heat and things they weren't supposed to feel.

They stayed there for a minute-her slumped in his arms, his chest rising against her back.

And then, footsteps echoed in the hallway.

Killian straightened, suddenly alert.

Sienna reached for her ruined panties with a dazed smile. "Well. That escalated."

He didn't smile back.

Because in his pocket, his phone buzzed.

Unknown number. Encrypted.

He answered without a word.

A distorted voice came through. Cold. Controlled.

"Who the fuck is touching my daughter?"

Killian froze.

Sienna's smile dropped.

"You have ten minutes to explain yourself, Mr. Black," Marco DeLuca snarled. "Before I paint this city red with your blood."