Chapter 3 Off-Limits #2
She gave me that wide-eyed look—fake innocence wrapped in glitter. “I would love to,” she said sweetly. “But the thing is... my feet hurt so much from all this dancing. I don’t think I can walk.”
Fuck that—I didn’t have time for all this bullshit.
One sharp motion—my arms around her waist, and she was over my shoulder like a stubborn sack of potatoes that refused to cooperate. She yelped, half in surprise, half in delight.
“What the hell are you doing?” she laughed, squirming a little as I started carrying her across the VIP section.
The arrogant guy she’d been dancing with earlier shot to his feet. “Hey! What the fuck, dude?”
I didn’t even look at him. I couldn’t have described his face if you paid me.
It was barely a dress, so short I could feel the hem riding up against my shoulder. Fuck, everyone was about to get a full view—ass, pussy, the whole goddamn show. I didn’t know why I cared, but I did. I yanked it down and covered the back of her thighs. Mine to handle. Not theirs to see.
“I didn’t sign up for this shit,” I muttered.
She giggled. “You know, I have a pretty good view from here.”
I groaned. “Shut up.”
“No, really. Very firm. Very sculpted. I’m impressed.”
“Malaya.”
“Yes?”
“You’re two seconds from getting dropped in a sewer.”
“Mmm how romantic.”
By the time we got to my car, I was praying for patience—or a reason to throw her in the trunk.
I set her down, yanked open the passenger door, and pressed one hand to the top of her head, the other bracing her back.
Then I shoved her forward, guiding her down and into the seat like she was cargo I was done dealing with.
She gasped, laughing, her dress riding up again as she twisted to face me, clearly thrilled by the whole thing like being thrown into a car was foreplay.
She grinned up at me like I’d just proposed. “You know, that was kind of hot. But also... very rude.”
I slammed the door shut before she could keep talking.
As soon as I got into the driver’s seat, she looked over and said, “Take me to your place,” casual as hell—like she was ordering food.
I blinked at her. “Did you hit your head on the way in?”
She pouted, playful. “What? If I go home like this and my father sees I’ve been drinking, I’ll get in trouble. Please. Just tonight.”
“Yeah, that’s not happening in this lifetime.”
She leaned toward me, voice low and flirtatious. “Come on, I’ll owe you. Anything you want.”
I barked a humorless laugh. “Want something from you? Yeah, like a migraine. Sit back. You’re going home.”
She folded her arms, eyebrows lifting. “You really want him to see me like this? He can be cruel, you know. Really cruel.”
I tilted my head, smiling like I was enjoying this way too much. “You’re putting on quite a performance. Shame it’s not convincing.”
She huffed, turning to stare out the window, sulking like a kid told no dessert. Didn’t speak another word until we reached the mansion.
The second we pulled in, she jumped out and started speed-walking toward the house.
I got out and followed her. The house was already quiet at this hour, aside from the distant guards making their rounds.
“Why are you following me?” she snapped over her shoulder.
“I want to see the lights off, the covers pulled up, and you pretending to be asleep like a good little girl.”
She scoffed. “Okay, Daddy.”
Why the fuck did that sound hot?
I should’ve rolled my eyes. Instead, I pictured her moaning it.
She started walking faster, borderline running, except she was in heels so tall it was almost funny. I watched her wobble with mild amusement. Of course she’d wear something that ridiculous. If she tripped and broke her neck, it’d probably be my fault too.
She reached her door first, but just as she tried to slam it shut, I wedged my boot in the frame.
She glared. “Oh, I get it. You just want to see me naked, don’t you?”
“Put on your pajamas,” I said, stepping inside and closing the door behind me. “I want to see you go to sleep.”
She reached for her silk nightgown, grinning. “You could just say you want a private show.”
I turned my back to her. “Trust me, I have no interest in seeing your little titties.”
She gasped. “Little titties? Seriously?”
Then she started mimicking me in a mocking tone. “Little titties, blah blah… Velikij Huy (Mr. Big Dick)... controlling every breath I take...”
The moment I heard that, I turned.
Velikij huy?
Was she fucking serious?
She’d just finished slipping into her nightgown when I closed the space between us and grabbed her jaw, fingers tightening on her cheeks until those smug little lips puckered up and went still. Her skin was soft and her eyes widened like she’d finally realized who she was playing with.
My pulse ticked under the surface—controlled, measured, but definitely there.
“What did you just say?”
She blinked at me. No answer.
I stared her down. “That’s what I thought. Say that again, and I’ll show you exactly how big it is.”
I dragged my thumb across her lower lip, slow and intentional. I meant to shut her up. But all I could think about was how warm her mouth would feel, how good she’d look with her knees on the floor and my hand in her hair.
She didn’t look scared. Just... stunned. Like the game had changed and she hadn’t realized she wasn’t holding the cards anymore.
“Now go to bed.”
She didn’t argue. Just stepped backward slowly, eyes still on mine, hips swaying like she knew exactly what she was doing. She slid under the covers like she was stripping for me without taking anything off.
I watched the whole thing. Mouth dry. Hands tight at my sides.
Fuck. She was going to drive me insane.
I turned and left.
For the first time I could remember in years, I’d actually lost my cool.
Because of her.
Because of some spoiled, reckless, bratty twenty-year-old with too much attitude and no clue what kind of fire she was playing with.
I’d killed men, broken bones, commanded loyalty with a look. And yet here I was, spiraling because some little hurricane in heels called me big dick in the middle of a tantrum.
And worse—I couldn’t stop thinking about her in those silk pajamas.
Or the way I’d called them little titties.
Because now all I wanted was to shove my face between them. Or suck them until she moaned like a spoiled little slut.
Fuck.
I ran a hand through my hair.
Stop it.
Get your shit together.
She’s off-limits.
And you don’t fuck the boss’s daughter.