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hand lower. Right here, in front of all these people. She didn't care. She only knew what she needed.
“Jesus, what you do to me, Devin.” His voice was rough. He was breathing as hard as she was. He sounded like a man who'd just had sex.
God.
She moaned, let the weight of her body hang against the leather cuffs holding her up. “I think you're done.”
“No!”
He laughed. “Oh yes, you are. You're too far gone to know it, but that's my job, to take care of you.”
Yes, take care of me. . .
She knew she wasn't thinking straight. She didn't care.
He unbuckled her and her legs went weak. She fell into his arms.
Nothing had ever felt better to her.
“Ah, I've got you, my girl.
My girl. Sweet.
He held her for a moment, buried his face in her hair. Her body was alive, electric, lit up with need. He half-carried her to the padded bench against the back wall. The girl in the red corset approached and she knew he was going to leave her there with the girl. “Shaye . . . please.”
He knelt on the floor in front of her, rubbed her arms. “What is it?
What do you need? Are you cold? Thirsty?”
She shook her head. “Don't go away.”
He stared at her, his hazel eyes smoky, serious. He bit down on his lip, his strong white teeth coming down on the soft flesh, sinking into it. She wanted him to kiss her again. Finally he said, “You are fucking amazing, Devin. But I have to go to work. Melissa will take care of you.”
She shook her head. Why did she feel like crying? And then, to her horror, one big, fat tear slid down her cheek.
“Jesus,” he muttered, then pulled her into his arms. “Shh, you're okay, you're just crashing. It usually only happens with heavy play. You'll be okay in a while.” She felt okay with his strong arms around her, crushed against his chest, his bare skin right up against hers. Better than okay. As long as he didn't get up and leave. Again he said, “I have to get back to work.”
She shook her head mutely, tilted her head up and pressed her lips to his. She heard a moan from him before he opened his lips and his sweet tongue slid into her mouth. She pulled it in, pulled in his breath. Her arms went around his neck. His kiss was hard and wet. She was wet, too, had never been so wet in her life. He stopped, pulled back. “Damn it, Devin. I'm not supposed to do this with the club girls.”
She managed between panting breaths, “I'm not another club girl.” He looked into her eyes. He bit his lip again, making her want to put her tongue there, to lick that tender spot. She shivered. He let out a long breath, ran a hand back through his hair. “Fuck it. I'm taking you out of here.”
He helped her to her feet, and with one arm looped around her waist, said to the redcorseted girl, “Melissa, get her shirt for me, will you? I'm taking the rest of the night off. Tell the others.” The girl did as he asked, and he helped Devin back into her top. Then he led her from the Ring, down the stairs, almost carrying her
through the press of bodies and the thundering music. He stopped to get her coat, draped it around her shoulders and led her from the club, into the cold night. Outside she pulled the frosty air into her lungs, trying to get her brain working while he talked to the doorman, who sent another guy off at a run to retrieve Shaye's car. They stood in silence, his arm still firmly around her. She was surprised when the kid from the club pulled up in a silver BMW. This was Shaye's car? Somehow she'd assumed he was one of those classic club guys, who drove some junker and lived with six roommates in a flat off Haight Street. Not that it mattered.
He helped her into the passenger seat, went around and got in. “I'll take you home. And it'll be whatever you want it to be. Tell me where you live.”
She gave him the address and he shifted the small, sleek car into first gear and took off. The night seemed heavy with silence after the pounding music of the club. She felt enveloped by it, as though