Chapter 1 #2
The DJ’s voice sliced through the haze, announcing Mynx like a promise wrapped in velvet. As “Butterfly" by Crazy Town pulsed through the speakers, the atmosphere changed—hoots and whistles erupted, a hunger that seemed to stick to the walls like sweat.
Mynx stepped into the light, her sequins catching fire as she moved. Her black babydoll dress slid off her shoulders in a slow surrender, pooling at her feet with a hush that felt rehearsed. All that remained was the black lace thong and the butterfly mask—delicate yet somehow defiant.
She dropped to her hands and knees, crawling toward the center of the stage like she owned it. She wasn't begging for attention; she was commanding it.
Eyes followed her, breaths were held as she moved towards them.
Raven watched her move slowly and seductively, as if she knew the room belonged to her.
Each shift of her hips was a whisper, and each glide down the pole was a promise to the onlookers of her affection.
Then the blonde arched her spine, curving it like a question mark against the pole, her eyes locking onto his.
They held their gaze.
Just for a breath. Just long enough to make it feel personal.
Raven's inhale hitched, subtle but telling.
"Butterfly" seemed like the perfect name for the seductress on the stage.
He unbuttoned the top button of his shirt and slid further back in his seat as he watched her collect money from her adoring fans.
Seven minutes in heaven might be enough to satisfy the urgent need he felt to possess the beautiful body on stage. But he doubted it.
By the time “S it would offer them a little something to help them relax in the moment.
He slipped one pill under his tongue, dry-swallowed. He held the other between his thumb and forefinger, watching the light catch its surface. It looked harmless. Almost pretty. He dropped it into the cherry Coke just as Stoker approached, his expression unreadable.
"Take this back to her," Raven said, his voice low. "Tell her it's from me. Extra cherries, but don't give her my name. I want this to be anonymous."
Anonymous for now. He knew she would eventually find out who he was.
Stoker took the glass without a word, but his eyes lingered a moment too long, as if questioning Raven's motives. Raven didn't flinch. He paid for what he wanted, and he wasn't leaving without it. What Stoker thought really didn't matter.
The music pulsed through the walls, low and primal, syncing with the thrum in Raven's chest. Each beat seemed to crawl under his skin, coaxing anticipation from places he didn't know he could still feel.
He moved down the hallway toward the VIP suite, his steps slow and deliberate—like a man walking into a ceremony, not a transaction.
He raised a hand to his face, fingers brushing the edge of the mask.
Still secure. Still him, but not quite. The anonymity made it exhilarating.
It allowed him to want what he shouldn't. To take what he had paid for. Often, he didn’t have time for what he wanted or needed.
The King's and his father's expectations had always come first. Tonight, he was letting go, living in the moment, being himself— not the heir to the Capo position.
The hallway narrowed, the lights dimming to a bruised red.
Somewhere behind the silk curtain, Mynx waited.
He had bought fourteen minutes, plus seven more.
Now he had to survive it, survive the way he wanted her.
He hoped the dance would take away his desire for her; sex usually did.
It was a purge, not a connection. Now all he had to do was get her agree.
Raven had yet to meet a woman who made him want more than just the act itself.
And he was okay with that. Wanting more meant needing, and needing meant weakness.
And weakness was a luxury he couldn’t afford.
Inside the VIP room, a long leather booth stretched along the back wall, resembling a throne designed for customers' indulgence. Raven sat in the center, arms draped wide and legs parted, claiming the space with a quiet authority. The lighting shifted—dim and moody, tinted with violet and blood-red hues. Above the door, a timer blinked fourteen minutes. It hadn’t started yet, but his pulse had.
He could hear it in his ears and feel it in his throat.
Marilyn Manson's cover of "In the Air Tonight" began to hum through the speakers, slow and haunting. The curtains parted.
Mynx crawled into the room with a black rose clamped between her teeth. Her eyes locked onto him, watching for any flicker, shift, or tell that would reveal his excitement. Raven leaned forward, hand extended, unable to mask the way his body responded to her presence.
She moved towards him on hands and knees; her movements were deliberate and feline. When she reached him, she nuzzled the side of his leg with her cheek and then dropped the rose at his feet, like an offering. Only then did she take his hand and rise.
His throat went dry.
Her mesh dress clung to her like it was painted on—black over red leather, with a bra and thong that turned suggestion into torment.
She straddled Raven, her legs folding around his hips.
Her scent wrapped around him like silk and static; it was sweet, like honey and vanilla, with a hint of heat.
And in that moment, he wanted her more than any woman he had ever seen.
She leaned in, pressing her chest to his face, and he inhaled her like oxygen.
For a moment, he couldn't tell where his body ended and hers began.
The hunger in him wasn't just physical—it was cellular.
Starvation disguised as desire. His cock was hard as steel as it pressed against the thin layer of leather covering her warm folds.
He could feel the heat from it calling to him.
"I'm Mynx," she said, "but I guess you already know that since you paid for my time this evening.
" She locked her eyes on his as she spoke, as if trying to see the man behind the mask.
Her brown eyes, swirling with green and gold, were soft and welcoming as she moved her hips to the music. "And you are?"
"I’m at risk of spontaneously combusting if I can’t get you to let me inside this gorgeous body of yours."
Damn if that didn’t sound cheesy. Raven mentally kicked himself.
She laughed. “Oh, I think you're confused that's not why I'm here. I’m here to give you a show " She said playfully as she ground deeper against his hard length, letting a small moan slip from her red-painted lips.
“The heat rolling off you tells me everything I need to know about why you're here,” Raven murmured, voice low and rough. “And from the feel of it you want me as much as I want you. Say you don’t, and I’ll back off.
I can feel the attraction—pulling between us like static electricity. I know you feel it too.”
He leaned in, lips grazing the pulse at her neck. A lick. A slow, deliberate suck. Then a bite—just enough pressure to make her breath catch. He growled in her ear and watched as she curled her spine as the sound vibrated through her.
"I— you don't understand, I could lose my job. I need this job."
Raven let his hand wander between her thighs, softly rubbing them up and down until he touched her core with his thumb.
The pressure was enough to make her squirm and try to get away.
Her nipples pebbled beneath her leather bra begging for attention.
Raven paused. The moment hung between them, taut and trembling.
His hand moved back to her thigh just short of her center.
He let it rest there, warm and still, waiting.
“You set the rules,” he said finally, voice low and steady. “I want you. But I won’t force you into something you don't want. You say the word, and I’ll back off. But if you want me… I’m yours.
Mynx glanced over at the timer above the door.
"Then let's not waste time," she said, voice low, deliberate.
She slid to her knees, fingers working the zipper of his pants with practiced ease.
Raven's breath hitched as she freed him, her touch featherlight, her eyes never leaving his.
When her tongue met him—warm, slow, exploratory—his body lit up like a fuse.
Each movement was deliberate, a rhythm she controlled, and he surrendered to.
He reached for her, fingers threading through her hair—but didn’t force. She set the pace, and he let her. Let her take him apart slowly, deliberately, in time with the music that throbbed like a second heartbeat.
She moaned around him, the vibration making his cock pulse with need.
Raven stood, pulled her up from the floor and pushed her onto her knees in front of him.
Then slid himself between her thighs pulling her thong to the side.
The crown of his dick pushed slowly into her.
He savored the feeling as the warmth enveloped him.
She moved back against him with a thrust, indicating she wanted more.
But Raven stilled her with his hands at her hips.
He rocked back and forth slowly, barely penetrating her, and leaned over and slid his tongue down her spine.
The moan that erupted from her was laced with pleasure.
When he reached the bottom of her back, he gripped her hips hard and pushed her into her with everything he had.
She pulsed around him, her moans echoing through the room.
"Tell me you're mine," Raven said, voice low, rough with need. "Even if it's just for the moment."
Mynx's eyes didn't waver. "I'm yours," she whispered, hips grinding with deliberate pressure. "Now make me forget everything else in the world but you."
Raven slipped the tie from around his neck, the silk whispering through his fingers. He leaned in, wrapped it gently around Mynx's eyes, knotting it with care—not to blind, but to heighten. She didn't flinch. Her breath hitched a little, but her body leaned into the darkness.
Then he moved.
He dove into her with everything he'd been holding until that moment, the ache of wanting something that didn't belong to him, someone that could never be his own urging him to take it all.
Sweat beaded along his chest and abs and began dripping onto her skin like a confession of his desire.
The music throbbed in the background, but all he could hear was her breath, his heartbeat, and the silence between them that felt like heaven.
When his orgasm came, it was in waves; it pulsed with the music and her moans.
The timer buzzed—a sharp reminder that time, even purchased, was finite. Raven blinked, the haze of heat and hunger thinning just enough to let reality back in.
Mynx rose, her body slick against his, leaving the scent of honey and vanilla still clinging to his skin. She leaned in, lips brushing his cheek—not possessive, not romantic, but something quieter. A benediction. A goodbye.
Her voice was low, threaded with something he couldn't name, when she got up to leave. "Thanks, handsome. So that you know—I never let things get this far with clients."
She pulled back, eyes lingering for a beat longer than necessary. Then she turned, the mesh dress catching the light as she disappeared behind the curtain.
Raven sat there, breath shallow, the taste of her still on his tongue and the ache of her absence already blooming in his chest. He'd bought time. But what she gave him for it was something else entirely.
Need.