Beck’s fingers pressed against my tongue, and it grounded me in the moment. The ache of starvation dulled when I had something to focus on, something to hold. So I kept him there, swallowing and savoring and drinking him down.

  “That’s it.” Beck’s breath puffed warmth across my neck. “Goddamn, you’re a dream. My dick could live inside this ass.”

  I hummed and writhed, trying to move more than the belt would allow while Beck’s cock pegged my prostate and sent waves of pleasure rolling through me.

  I was teetering on the precipice of bliss, and Beck was right there, nuzzling into my neck and pressing his palm into my stomach until I had no room for breath. Whether he realized it or not, he’d learned along with me how I liked to be handled. He did it without hesitation, and with a confidence that stripped me bare. He left me as emptied of thought as I was of air, leaking slick and drool.

  My eyes fluttered shut as I turned inward, imagining his cock spearing into me, crowding out the emptiness inside. Precum had left a sticky spot on my belly, steadily growing and adding to the mess I was making everywhere else.

  I was adrift in sensation when Beck slipped his fingers from my mouth. He caught hold of the seatbelt and gave it a sharp tug. The strap dug into my shaft, choking off blood flow and stalling my climax mid-ascent.

  My tongue snaked around my spit-damp lips before I whined. “Beck, please… How much farther? I can’t…” Another dip in the road stirred the hardness inside me. I chased it, shimmying my hips in a bid for relief. “P-please,” I sputtered. “Don’t leave me like this. It… it hurts.”

  Beck made a cooing sound as his mouth ghosted around the shell of my ear. “I’d never hurt you, Beauty.”

  He was right. It wasn’t pain, but I couldn’t think of anything else to call it. I was sweating, shivering, and striving toward a ledge I wanted to dive off. Throw myself toward the release Beck dangled just out of reach.

  I babbled his name before his hand invaded my mouth again.

  Three fingers plunged deep as he sucked on my skin, trailing warm, wet kisses into my hairline and down to the collar of my shirt.

  “You’re so perfect,” he paused to say. “Such a pretty boy with so many holes for me to use.”

  The seatbelt had begun to chafe, probably because I couldn’t sit still despite that being the entire point.

  Was that the point?

  To leave me longing after he’d apologized for making me wait all day?

  The limo turned and shifted everything oh-so-subtly. My balls tingled, drawing up and hinting at climax. I could come like this, cover us both in my release then stagger out of the limo like a drunkard, soaked in fluids and jelly-legged. I squeezed my eyes closed and tuned in to the small jerks and slides of the cock twitching inside me, the fingers thrusting over my tongue, the kisses and touches coming from everywhere.

  “So close now,” Beck whispered. “I want you nice and loose, because when we get to my room, I’m going to fuck you on every piece of furniture I own.”

  I gave a garbled cry as tears began to run then cool where they dried on my scorched skin.

  Then everything stopped. First the car, then the overwhelming fullness as Beck’s fingers slipped from my mouth, leaving my jaw aching in their absence. The seatbelt whispered aside, and Beck lifted me from his lap. He pulled up my leggings, covering my leaking ass, then tucked himself away with a practiced zip of his fly.

  I stood, hunkering so I didn’t crash into the headliner, while hunger roared in my gut.

  I needed… I still needed…

  The door opened to reveal Colette standing dutifully by. Her smile was serene as Beck urged me out into a crowded parking garage.

  It had grown dark outside, and the cement structure was striped with shadows. Night crept in through the windowed walls while glaring lights cast wide beams. My knees knocked as I walked forward, feeling dampness seep into my underwear from my used hole.

  When Beck crowded in behind me, I almost grabbed him and dragged him back into the Lincoln to finish what we’d started. It was either that or sink to my knees on the pavement—anything to get his dick in me again.

  Placidly, he hooked his arm around my waist and tugged me forward. I walked about as gracefully as a child, my limbs alternating between tingling and numb as my erection strained at the material of my leggings.

  “Beck,” I said plaintively, but managed nothing more before he gestured ahead.

  “This is my home.” He smiled. “And yours for the night.”

  The weight of his statement pushed my lascivious thoughts aside. When he’d mentioned the hotel earlier, I’d assumed he meant a neutral location. Any given property on the Strip. But this was so much more.

  Home.

  Something the Dollhouse had never been.

  Something I’d wanted without realizing it.

  I bit my lip to stifle replies that felt suddenly inadequate. He was sharing this with me. Welcoming me into the most private part of his world, if only for the night. It was a grand gesture, one that soothed my urgency.

  With that shift, I started to really see the place we were moving toward.

  Ivory statues flanked the entrance, carved in high relief like guardians of something ancient. “The Grecian” shimmered across the windows in ornate gold lettering. Colette followed us inside, where a hallway opened into a vast corridor of polished marble and warm lighting.

  It didn’t feel like a casino. There were no blinking machines, no clatter of coins, no drunken laughter echoing off the walls. Just quiet, curated opulence.

  It was the kind of silence that warned you to lower your voice; the kind of space that told you to behave.

  But Beck didn’t flinch beneath its weight. The space seemed to bend for him. Acknowledge him. And somehow, just by standing at his side, I could breathe a little easier. I could move forward, and I could almost believe I belonged here too—if only for tonight.

  Home.

  He brought me home.

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY-SIX

  Zephyr

  We bypassed the main floor by way of a side corridor. My new tennis shoes squeaked against the floor as Beck guided me onward. Colette trailed behind us until the hall opened into a smaller lobby, then she peeled off with a murmur I didn’t catch. Beck responded with a parting wave and, just like that, we were alone.

  The room was lined with smooth stone and gold accents, every detail sleek and modern. A dedicated elevator stood at the far end, and Beck guided me to it, then pressed the call button.

  “This goes straight to the suites,” he said, eyes forward.

  The car opened with a soft chime, and we stepped inside. I turned to face the doors as they closed, finding my reflection faint in the polished brass and Beck’s silhouette behind me. The elevator began to rise.

  I remembered being stuffed in the elevator at the Crowndell and brimming with anxious anticipation. There, I’d felt small and vulnerable, but here I was the center of the world, positioned in front of Beck as he curved his arms around me, holding me close. Keeping me safe.

  And I could breathe. In fact, I was so full of air that I might have been weightless. Flying like I did onstage. Trusting the silks to keep me aloft while the world drifted away. I exhaled, then breathed in again, turning everything soft and supple but no less needful. If anything, I craved him more now.

  Clasping Beck’s hand, I moved it onto my bare stomach and held it there as though he could feel the growling monster inside, a beast only he could tame.

  He kissed the side of my neck, scrubbing the tender flesh with the rasp of his stubble. Then he reached lower, sliding intrepid fingers under the elastic waist of my leggings until he cupped my bare cock, half hard and dripping precum.

  “Every piece of furniture, Beauty,” he reminded me. “The bed, the chairs, the coffee table… Did I mention I have a kitchenette? We haven’t had dinner. Maybe I’ll lay you on the counter and make a meal of you.”

  I whined and pressed my ass against his groin while he fondled my dick and balls. My pulse kicked harder with every floor we climbed.

  Somewhere near the top, the car arrived at its destination. Beck released me, and we stepped out. In the vacant hall, he paused then turned me to face him while holding up his hand slicked with my arousal.

  With a nasal whimper, I stuck out my tongue and let him lift his palm to my mouth. I lapped at his skin, tasting the musky, slightly sweet fluid.

  Beck held my gaze, his eyes as gilded and glorious as everything in this place. He smiled, then tugged on my lower lip as he nodded down the corridor. “Just a bit farther.”

  We advanced, and as much as I tried to pay attention to the baroque paintings on the walls and the plush carpet underfoot, or take note of the number of Beck’s room and how he opened its digital lock, all I could think of was the heat pooling in my belly and my cock painting a wet spot on the front of my pants.

  Stepping into the suite felt like crossing into another world. Beck’s scent met me first, woody and warm, carried on the rush of cool air that spilled into the hallway as he led me through.

  Everything inside was steeped in quiet sophistication. The polished floors looked untouched by dirt or time. Dark wood and soft linen paneled the walls, their textures softened further by recessed lights that glowed like candlelight.

  To the left, a sunken living area was arranged with tufted leather seating, centered around a gas fireplace. To the right, the kitchenette Beck had mentioned gleamed with bright white cabinetry and polished stone counters, pristine and modern.

  But it was the view that held me.

  Directly ahead, floor-to-ceiling windows framed the Strip. I drifted forward, drawn by the altitude and awed by the scale.

  I reached the glass, wanting to put my hands on it but afraid of leaving smudges. My nose almost bumped it as I leaned impossibly close, trying to immerse myself in the magnificence of it all.

  The city unfolded below in a kaleidoscope of neon and motion. Cars paced the boulevard, and the buildings that seemed gargantuan at ground level were diminished. Impressive but manageable, stretching in both directions against a distant mountainous skyline.

  The Dollhouse had never given me this kind of height. This level of perspective.

  “This is…” I swallowed, suddenly aware of the echo in my voice. “A lot.

  Beck chuckled behind me. I felt him moving through the space, heard the rustle of his shoes coming off and the soft clink of glass. I turned to see him filling two crystal cups.

  He brought them to where I’d stalled in front of the window and passed me one. I held it while basking in the view. Now beside me, Beck swirled his drink, then sipped it. It might have been scotch, bourbon, or whiskey… they all looked the same. Honey-colored booze poured from an etched glass decanter.

  He tipped his cup back again, then stepped into my side and let his hand graze over my ass. The desire that had been simmering in me piped up hot. Delay edged closer to gratification now that we had arrived in this exquisite place. This palace.

  Silence bloomed between us, heavy with potential. It thrummed in my chest, prickled across my skin, and slithered down my spine. The city lights glittered beyond the glass, but I considered Beck’s reflection instead. His strong jaw and supple hands. The slow melt of his restraint. The utter destruction of mine.

  Turning toward him, I dropped to my knees the way I’d wanted to first in the limo, then in the parking garage. I would kneel for him anywhere, surrender to his protection and tender care.

  I set my drink on the floor, then reached for his belt, hooking my fingers over the sleek, steel buckle and giving a tug.

  “Beck, please.”

  With a crooked finger under my chin, Beck raised my head. I rocked back onto my haunches and opened my mouth, waiting for the essence of his lust to coat my tongue.

  “Tell me,” Beck rumbled. “What do you need?”

  “Everything. All of it. All of you,” I rattled off answers hoping to find the right one. When he moved no closer, I gulped down the saliva flooding my mouth and attempted once more. “Beck, I need you to feed me.”

  At first, I thought I’d failed his test. But then his belt loosened, pants unbuttoned, and relief washed over me.

  Beck freed his dick, cupping under his balls and massaging them slowly as he raked his other hand through my hair. A gentle tug tilted my head back, and the pull on my scalp sent ripples of pleasure down my body. I knelt, arms limp at my sides, face angled upward, and lips barely apart. I submitted because Beck didn’t take control—he asked for it, and I gave it freely.

  “I’m going to fuck you front to back,” he said, low and sultry. “Do you want that, Beauty?”

  I nodded as Beck tightened his fist in my hair, then used that grip to guide my face toward his glistening cock.

  Centimeters from it, he stopped me again. I could have licked his crown, traced the veins in his shaft with the tip of my tongue, but I waited, obedient, aching.

  “First, you’re going to take me in your mouth and get me nice and wet,” he said. “Then I’ll turn you around and fuck your ass.”

  I nodded again, breath quickening as he stepped into me. He thrust forward, sliding through the ring of my lips then deeper… slow, slow, slow, all the way down. My throat constricted around the head of his cock, and I garbled a moan. Beck pulled harder on my hair, dragging me forward until my nose buried in his base. Wisps of soft hair tickled me as I tasted, smelled, and felt him all at once. It was sumptuous.

  My lashes fluttered, I gagged, and tears began to well. Then he drew back and fucked into me, slamming down hard. The second snap of his hips rattled my brain, and spit foamed at the corners of my mouth.

  I stared up at Beck, limp and letting him direct me. He told me I was beautiful, and I thought about how he was too. Striking and powerful when he controlled me like this, like he owned me, and maybe I wanted him to. Maybe I wanted to be his slut instead of Maslow’s. His to touch and use and fuck…

  I groaned again as Beck bottomed out, suffocating me with his dick. If I could have told him all that, I would have. I would have taken his praise and given him promises.

  I’ll be good.

  I’ll be yours.

  Feed me, fill me, front to back.

  Beck’s finger dragged through the wet tracks on my cheek, collecting the moisture he then brought to his mouth. When his tongue snaked out to lick off the salt of my tears, I let out a whine. I wanted those wet digits inside me, fucking me open. I wanted him in every hole, all at once.

  If not him, then something. Anything.

  Tilting forward, I wiped under my chin, coating my fingers with the drool collecting there.

  Beck slowed his thrusts as I met his gaze again. His golden eyes came into focus as he watched me slide my hand under the snug fabric of my leggings, moving toward my empty hole.

  I wasn’t sure how much he could see, but when my fingertip prodded my puckered entrance, lust dropped like a curtain over us. I exhaled, wheezing past the dick lodged in my throat and pressing inward with my finger. The muscle tensed, squeezing so snugly I couldn’t imagine how Beck’s cock ever fit.

  “That’s it,” Beck cooed from overhead. “Keep going.”

  The pressure made me whine, and Beck tugged on my hair, maneuvering me forward then back as he picked up his tempo again.

  My body rocked while I worked my finger inside, twisting and curling to find the spot that made my nerve endings come alive. I’d barely brushed it when Beck’s other hand collared my throat, trapping my head in a sharp upward angle while he plunged down my throat.

  “Another.” His fingertips kneaded my neck. “You can take another.”

  Arching up, I pulled out enough to press a second finger to my entrance. I was leaking so much slick that both digits slid past the knuckles and notched inside.

  My chest heaved, skin tingled, everything ached, and I needed… I needed him. To feed me, yes. To see the demon in me and not shy away. The hunger I feared, he abated. He protected me from the appetite that on so many days seemed determined to consume me.

  “Fuck yourself,” Beck murmured, and I flushed at the lewd command. “Let me hear you moan.”

  With a twist of my digits, I was through, crying out around his cock while hot, sticky cum soaked my underwear. My petering cry was choked by Beck’s rhythmic thrusts as he fucked me through my orgasm, holding me by my hair and throat until my body sagged. Saliva bubbled over his shaft and roped down to paint my sweatshirt.

  The world sparkled as bright as Las Vegas Boulevard as my hand slid out of my fluttering hole. Beck’s dick plunged impossibly deep, and I gagged again, breathless but unwilling to draw back. Lust saturated the air, making everything feel dense and weighty, and I was floating in the middle of it.

  I didn’t pull away, but Beck did. As soon as his dick left my mouth, I thrust my fingers in its place, licking the slick off my skin then suckling.

  “Beauty.” Beck released his hold on my hair and knelt before me. “Zephyr…”

  There was something unfamiliar in his eyes. I couldn’t discern it with my vision blurred and my body racked with the aftershocks of my orgasm.

  After a long, quiet moment, Beck broke our visual lock and lifted the hem of my shirt to wipe the saliva from my neck and chin. His hand shifted to palm my nape instead, holding me steady as he dried beneath my eyes.

  Once I was clean, he continued to raise my shirt until I pulled my hand out of my mouth and let him strip me. The shirt was tossed aside, then he laid me back on the dense pile rug. His touches were tender as he tugged off my shoes and socks, then moved to my pants. The waistband rolled down to reveal my limp cock, drenched in the aftermath of my release.

  Beck hummed at the sight. “Such a pretty mess.”

  My pulse gathered speed, and my cock twitched with renewed interest as Beck shed his shirt and tugged off his shoes and pants, then piled everything atop my discarded clothes. When he was fully naked, I studied him. Absorbed him.