Page 3 of Twisted Tate

My phone buzzes, and I snatch my phone back to see if Thorne changed his mind. But it’s a text from one of the men I have watching Reese Donaldson. She just arrived at Velum, a popular club for the elite. Most Ravens are members.

I need to fuck hard, and then I’ll go see what she’s doing there and if she’s interacting with anyone of interest.

I unbuckle my belt. The woman arches her back higher at the sound, presenting herself like a gift.

I fuck her because she’s here and willing. And the release is going to stave off of the hunger for a bit, even if it’s getting far more difficult to satisfy. I use her mouth first, watching her throat work around me while tears leak from the corners of her eyes. Then I pound into her pussy until she’s screaming around the gag. She comes twice before I finish down her throat.

The whole thing takes maybe fifteen minutes.

I untie her wrists and ankles while she catches her breath. Red marks circle her skin where the ropes bit in. She’ll have bruises tomorrow.

I remove the gag last. She works her jaw, then gives me a satisfied smile.

“Holy shit.” Her voice is hoarse. “That was—”

“The guest bathroom’s through there.” I nod toward the door. She’s definitely not sharing mine. “If you want to freshen up.”

She blinks as if she’s expecting something else. If she knows anything about my brothers and me, she should know there’s no fucking cuddling after. Except maybe Fox. It wouldn’t surprise me if he’s a goddamn cuddler now. But he’s forever home with his wife.

I’m already walking toward the shower, locking my bathroom door behind me.

Several minutes later, I step out of the bathroom with a towel sitting low around my waist to find that she’s fully dressed and lingering near the door. She’s redone her makeup, and I hope she didn’t waste that effort on me.

I still can’t remember her fucking name. Brittany? Brianna? She told me at the club earlier tonight, but it didn’t stick.

“That was incredible.” She moves closer and runs her fingers along the tattoos on my chest. “When can I see you again?”

“I’ll call you.”

I don’t make a habit of lying, but that’s definitely a lie. I just need her out of here so I can get back to Velum.

“You don’t have my number.”

I don’t say anything, because I’m not going to fucking ask for it. She knew what this was.

Her face falls for just a second before she covers it with a smile. “Well. If you change your mind, handsome, I’m at Velum most weekends.”

She leaves, and I check my phone before the door even clicks shut. My man says Reese is still at the club.

I get dressed in dark jeans, a black button-down shirt, and then holster my Glock. I run my fingers through my messy dark hair, not caring that it’s still a little damp. Then I grab my keys and take the private elevator down to the garage. My McLaren’s parked in its usual spot, one of several cars I rotate through depending on my mood.

It’s time to get back to work.

When I arrive at Velum, it’s fucking packed.

The club caters to Ravens and rich wannabes who want to play without questions, offering private rooms, expensive drinks, and a strict policy of minding your own fucking business. A lot of shit goes down here, but that isn’t my concern tonight.

I believe Reese Donaldson is my way into her father’s operation. Jenson Donaldson is a Council member for the Ravens, equal to my father’s ranking. And now we know he’s running one of the largest human trafficking networks on the East Coast. My father and Fox want to know how deep it goes before we make our move.

My men have been tracking her for four days while I dig up as much as I can.

Surely she’s Daddy’s little princess and probably knows exactly what he does. Many of the women in our world have to turn a blind eye to what some of these rich assholes do. She probably only cares that Daddy ensures she marries well and stays covered in expensive clothes and diamonds.

After a few minutes, I finally spot her at the bar, and my chest tightens.

The photos didn’t do her justice, not even close.

Wavy dark blonde hair spills over bare shoulders. The pink dress is tight enough to show off tits that would fit perfectly in my hands and hips that flare out in a way that would be perfect to grip while fucking. The hem barely covers her ass, and her legs are long and toned, ending in heels that add at least six inches.