Rouge: A Dark Billionaire Romance (Tattered Curtain Series)
Rouge: Act 1 – Scene 5

Kian

I don’t give Lacey time to reconsider. Whisking my wee runaway bride backstage just like I’ve been dying to, I ignore the confused protests from the audience. Hopefully none of those objections are coming from Monroe’s sister and she’s still passed out, but in any case, Merek will do his job and make sure that she and Roxy are taken care of.

As soon as I break through the curtain, I see Tolie pause midsentence with another dancer.

“What’re you—”

“Show’s over.”

“But you still have… fuck—” He turns on his heel, knowing not to argue with me and breaks through the curtain to make his announcement.

“I guess the devil couldn’t wait another second to have his bride…”

I tune him out and speed into the depths of Rouge toward his dressing room, leaving the stage behind. We may have just finished our act outside, but my night is just beginning.

With only the red LED lights on the ceiling to guide me, the halls are dim but full of people milling about. They’re too busy assembling the next set, not paying attention to me in the slightest during their practiced, frenetic work.

The show is meant to be a burlesque combined with a male revue, but the O’Sheas have made it possible for the dancers to “schmooze” future clients in the privacy of their own dressing rooms. We McKennons are more casino people, but no matter what the method or the vice, backroom deals are a dime a dozen in the Garde. Tonight will be no different.

Lacey’s arms are still wrapped around my neck. Once I’m inside Tolie’s dressing room, I kick the door shut, muffling the thudding bass beat blaring from the stage. She tightens her hold on me as I shift my forearm under her thighs so that I can lock the door and tug off the bed’s quilt. When the sheets are revealed, I set her on top much more gently than I thought I was capable of with the adrenaline pumping through my system.

After a year of obsessing over her, I want to take my time, but Lacey’s having none of that. She trails her nails over my tattoos until I catch her wrists. Red peeps through the outline of the door and I lift her chin toward the light to meet her hungry gaze as I make my promise.

“If you mark me again, bride, you’ll be marking me forever, and I’ll have to do the same.”

Her strawberry-blonde brows furrow as if she’s just as confused as I am by the emotions swirling between us. A fleeting look of uncertainty passes over her face, but a smirk lifts her lips and I can tell she’s decided not to believe me. She scratches my chest hard, all the way down to my waistband.

Your mistake, Lace.

The new indentations burn along the trail she leaves behind, but my cock jumps in my pants right underneath where her perusal ends. Her eyes widen with anticipation. She may have perfected the whole innocent act she performs for the world, but with me, she’s being a fecking temptress and I plan to corrupt her more tonight.

I lean in closer, inches away from her gorgeous wet pink lips. I’m still wearing the red devil mask that covers the upper half of my face, but I won’t remove it yet. When I asked her on stage if she knew who I was, she claimed she didn’t need to know. I’m just a fuck to her, so that’s what I’ll be until I need to reveal myself.

Her floral scent envelops me as I cage her in with my hands propped on the mattress. Hers hook into my breakaway pants and a snap on one of the sides makes her eyes jump to where she’s gripping the fabric tight.

“Take them off, tine. You know you want to.”

Her eyes narrow. “Tin-eh? What does that mean?”

My heart races at the slip, but I grip her wrists and use her hands to yank off my pants as a distraction. They rip up the sides like they’re designed to do and fall to the ground easily, taking with them the small scrap of fabric that covered my cock. The move pulls me toward her, so close our lips almost brush.

In that moment, everything else fades as our breaths pump back and forth between us, making my chest touch her diamond-clad breasts. Without the spotlight and our pasts, our feuding families, my orders, nothing else matters. It’s just us in the dark.

While wrapping my arm around her waist, I caress her cheek with my other hand and let all the desire I feel flare in my eyes as I stare into her baby blues.

“You’re mine tonight, bride.”

My voice is deeper and lower than I’ve ever heard it. It’s a declaration, not a question. I’m not even giving her the illusion of a choice.

“Make me believe that’s true… please.”

Her voice breaks off at the end, and her plea carves deep into my chest. She’s begging me, but why? From the outside, she’s got everything she could want, so why would she want to feck all that up with a stranger in a mask? Is she in trouble?

If she needs comfort, though, I’m not the one to give it to her. If I execute the idea that’s been burning in my mind all day, she won’t want it from me anyway. Whatever I decide, everything changes for her tonight, and I won’t lure her into thinking I’m some soft prince. I dressed as the devil for a reason.

She doesn’t seem to need my reply, though, and her gaze drifts from mine to roam my upper body. Before she can take all of me in, I move her farther up the bed. She instantly clings to me, pressing her warmth into my abs, making my painfully hard cock tease her clothed entrance as I carry her.

When I lay her on the sheets beneath me, I begin to move down to the apex of her thighs. She licks her lips while she watches until the warm metal at the head of my cock brushes against her thigh.

That intense blue gaze narrows with interest, but I massage her toned thighs to distract her and her eyes roll back in her head. Her moan goes straight to my cock, making it pulse with need. I massage all the way under the tulle of her skirt and tuck my fingertips into the thin waistband of her crimson lace thong. She writhes underneath my touch as I slide it down.

Our sensual dance made her pussy so wet that she’s drenched the fabric, and my mouth waters at the sight. I toss the thong onto the bedside table beside the kit I hope I don’t have to use later.

My veins pump with excitement at the thought of finally getting to live my fantasy. Propped up on my elbows between her thighs, I lift her legs over my shoulders, ready to dive in.

“Wait.”

My heart stutters in my chest at the sight of her raised hand and her breasts nearly spilling from her corset thanks to her rapid breathing.

Did she change her mind? With everything her family has done to mine, my vengeful side almost wants her to try and stop me. How far will I go if she resists? I’ve done a lot of shite, most of which could have me locked up forever. But I’ve never hurt a woman. Do I hate Lacey enough for her to be the first?

Do I hate her at all?

With her satin-soft skin brushing against either side of my head, my hands cupping her thighs, her hot skin radiating against my cheeks… it all reminds me that I’m a breath away from everything I’ve dreamed of. If she says no…

I meet her eyes but keep my mouth shut, unable to say anything and afraid I’ll feck things up if I do. Her teeth worry over her bottom lip as I lie stock-still, watching her through my devil mask and over the aggravating tulle that’s the only barrier between us right now.

“I… I don’t know your name.”

Relief makes me light-headed and my chest flutters at the thought of her calling out my real name. It’s on the tip of my tongue to confide in her, but I don’t. O’Sheas can’t be trusted and giving in after all this time will only ruin my plan.

Her fingers fiddle with her dress and the red light from the hallway glints against Monroe’s godforsaken diamond. Keeping her legs over my shoulders, I lift my upper body up just enough to take her left hand in mine. Her brow furrows, but she doesn’t stop me as I pull the engagement ring off. It slides easily, as if her finger hasn’t gotten used to wearing it yet. Understanding softens her freckled features, and she doesn’t even object when I toss it onto the bedside table, sending smug pride surging through me.

“When you scream for me, call me Key.”

I have to bite my tongue to prevent myself from saying something stupid, like her name that I’m not supposed to know yet, or promises I can’t keep unless I go against my father’s orders. I’ll blow everything if I don’t keep it together now.

“Key,” she whispers between those two plump lips as if she’s tasting it on her tongue for the first time. Her breaths slow and a sweet smile brightens her face in the red light.

“Perfect,” I whisper back and break away from her gaze.

Pushing the tulle up her waist again to reveal her pretty, bare pussy in full view, I spread her thighs farther with my broad shoulders before diving in to finally taste her.

On the first long stroke of my tongue against her soft skin, her hands immediately thread into my hair and pull like reins. She’s ambrosia on my taste buds, and her cries of pleasure are just as delicious.

When she tugs hard at my scalp, I moan into her entrance and swipe up her silky, smooth center, ending with a dance around the small bundle of nerves at the top. Her tennis shoes dig into my bare upper back, reminding me that I haven’t even undressed her. I can’t stop myself now, though. My hips grind into the bed, aching for relief, but I focus all my attention on her and shift so that my fingers can join my tongue.

I swirl my index finger through her arousal and continue to lave at her clit before pushing inside her warm channel. She hisses above me, but I massage her inner muscles until her thighs relax around me.

“Goddamn, you’re tight.”

That crazy Garde double standard flashes in my mind again. Has she really never been with anyone else? The thought makes me both possessive and murderous at the same time. A primal urge wants to be the only one who’s gotten to touch her like this. But the fact that our society has had that much control over her makes me hate the Garde even more.

Experiencing her passion tonight and now having her in my arms, she feels like the woman in the background that I’ve obsessed over, not the vapid Garde “good girl” she makes herself out to be when she knows people are watching. My decision to go against my father’s orders is almost made, but while my heart is all for it, my mind still bucks at the lingering fear that she’s just another society clone in our fecked-up world.

Her moan snaps me out of my racing thoughts, and the demanding yank on my hair spurs me to keep going. I tongue her clit in a circular motion while feathering against her G-spot until she cries out my name again. Her channel grips my finger like a vise, but when she comes with me for the first time, I want to feel her let go around my cock. When her thigh muscles clamp against my ears and her shoes rub into my shoulder blades in an impossibly hard massage, I withdraw altogether.

“What? No. What’re you doing?” The frustration tingeing her question makes me chuckle.

“Don’t worry, bride. It’s our final act.”

I push up off the bed and sit on my calves. My cock bobs up, soaked at the tip, and Lacey’s eyes widen at the metal bar of my apadravya piercing positioned diagonally through the head.

“You are pierced.”

“You’ll like it, tine. It hits right where you need it.”

I grin wickedly as I loop her legs around me. Her hands grip my biceps, but she doesn’t stop me as I wet my cock along her drenched cunt. When my shaft is just as soaked with her arousal as she is, I line up the head and watch our connection breach her tight opening. Her nails cut into my arms, flooding apprehension through my veins, but she sucks me in immediately and I moan, tipping my head back.

“I don’t want this to hurt you. But, goddamn Lac—”

“Why would it… oh, Key—”

At the sound of her already crying out my nickname, I can’t help it anymore and my hips drive forward. I couldn’t stop even if I wanted to as I fill her in one thrust. One swift, brutally tight thrust.

I gather her in my arms before the instinct to keep my distance kicks in. Incredibly, even after I’ve caused her pain, she hugs me back, shaking in my embrace.

“Did I hurt you?”

Guilt seeps in until it registers that Lacey’s shudders aren’t from pain at all. I shift to release one of my arms from behind her back. When it’s free, I push her soft hair off her forehead to meet her eyes. They’re full of laughter that bubbles up her chest. A sweet, tinkling sound I’ve never heard from her before that makes my chest ache.

“Hurt me? No. I mean, it has been a while, but—”

“A while?” My pulse triples in time. “You’ve had sex before?”

Her eyebrow cocks high. “Of course I have. It’s the twenty-first century, Key. You’re far from the first guy I’ve slept with.”

That anxiety I felt when she first cried out melts away, replaced by a confusing mixture of relief, jealousy, and certainty.

Everything locks into place while I watch her giggle underneath me as if following the Garde’s archaic laws is completely ludicrous. That beautiful melody confirms the suspicions I’ve developed after studying her for the past year.

What she shows everyone else is a smoke and mirrors act, but this Lacey I have underneath me? She’s real. All she needs is the freedom to ignite and I’m the match to her flame.

“I’m not the first guy you’ve slept with,” I whisper and smile into her neck as I begin to slowly move inside her.

I’m the last.