Craving Talia

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.