Chapter 1: Bossy Bodyguard: Part 1 – Chapter 1

“The only eyes I want on me right now are yours.”

Turns out, going alone at a sex-club was lonelier than I thought.

My eyes zeroed in on the bar. Many patrons clad in expensive suits and glittering dresses were either seated in the personal booth for more privacy or dancing on the stage. Heads turned towards me, and the awareness of being watched creeped over my skin with a slight shiver.

But I ignored it.

Because I was Emma Moore, and I had been under an eye of surveillance since the day my mother conceived me.

My fingers clammed into a fist and my breath wavered, but I focused on one thing only——the bar. I needed to stop it. Stop thinking for a while. Sex was unfortunately out of the question, but thankfully, humankind has created several other ways to give our minds a break. One of them was—

“A Negroni please,” I said to Joe, the bartender, who winked at me and started making one of my favorite drinks.

“No more seconds today, Em.” Joe slid the pink glass towards me, a scrumptious slice of orange peel garnish bobbing over it. “Or your brother will kill me.”

“Or he might skin you alive, sweetheart.” I batted my lashes at him, taking a long sip. The strong alcoholic drink with its sweet taste gave a small sting of burn to my throat as I downed it all in two more swigs.

Joe looked horrified.

“One more please,” I said just as sweetly, sliding the empty glass back at him.

He sighed, taking it and filling another one for me. Then he served a handsome couple in the corner. Both men were in such awe of one another, whispering in each other’s ears and smiling. Something bitter slid into my throat and I quickly looked away from them.

My hands clenched remembering this morning—the funeral of my mother.

Without thinking, I threw my head back and swallowed another gulp of the alcohol, wiping my lips with my hand—chuckling how horrified my mother would be if she saw me right now. I drank another glass and pouted at Joe when he showed me the rule that showed only two drinks were allowed.

Grumbling underneath my breath, I slid off the stool, wobbling in my high heels. I was in a rush, so I had worn my favorite Manolo Blahnik pink heels with a pretty gemstone each. I was so caught up thinking about the afternoon that I didn’t see where I was stepping. Seconds stretched by as my eyes slowly blinked at the lights and realized that the world wasn’t tripping. I was.

“Motherfuckingshitballs—”

“Quite a dirty little mouth you have.”

A hot, deep voice whispered, strong hand keeping me from tripping. My first thought hearing his voice was sex. And not the sweet, sensual kind with a lover’s clumsy kisses. It was deep, rough, hair-pulling, ass-spanking, knees-and-lips-bruising kind of sex.

Mmm, sexy.

My eyes drifted over to the burly man who was sipping his drink with the stealth of a predator. Panther. He looked like a panther in his black shirt and mysterious aura. I tilted my head, my hair falling over my bare shoulders as goosebumps skittered over my entire body, noticing the large palm wrapped around my arm.

“You should see what else this dirty little mouth can do.”

I blinked. The slow realization of what I had just drunkenly blurted echoing through my head.

Uh. Oh.

I did not just say that out loud.

“Oh, but you did,” the smoky voice said, my eyes drifting from the inked hand on my bare elbow to the arm that was hidden beneath the sleeves of a shirt and an expensive suit hanging from the stool. I was impressed at the size of his biceps, which were probably as big as my thigh, and over to his exposed neck and then his face. My god, he is one of the hottest men I’ve ever seen. “And if that polite but tempting comment was an invitation for me to get you in a room… then my answer is yes. Only if you are sober.”

His eyes were on my face when he said those dirty words in his sexy voice. My hands clenched into a fist at the look in his piercing dark eyes. He was too intense. His large frame that dwarfed the stool, his hands, his handsome, sharp face and his eyes. They seemed like they weren’t looking at my face… but at my soul.

It unnerved me.

It unnerved me even more when I decided to play with him.

Maybe I was really drunk.

A sly smirk traced my lips, my eyes raking over his broad frame. Perfect. So fucking perfect. My mom’s tasteless funeral. My boyfriend cheating on me with a guy. And now having this hot specimen falling in my lap was just perfect. Because I could really do with some hot, hard and rough one-night stand. Especially in my brother’s sex club. I could just imagine the look of anger on his face. Ha!

Flipping my hair over my shoulder, I stepped closer, making sure that my bare thigh brushed his silk pants that were so perfectly tailored that I had to stop myself from shamelessly ogling his strong thighs.

“Are you sure you’ll be able to handle this mouth?” I asked, my voice dropping to a lower note so I could sound sultrier. My black almond-shaped nail trailed over his arm revealing ink running through his shirt and over his shoulder that was strong and firm. I could just imagine how it would feel to sink my fingers into them. My mouth went dry when he let me touch his neck, his skin soft and warm.

Even his Adam’s apple was hot.

A tremor of pleasure ran through my spine when he leaned closer, the tips of his fingers brushing the back of my thigh, making my head buzz with potent heat.

“There’s only one way to find out, isn’t there, Doll?” he said, taking a sip as ice clunked against each other in his glass.

“I’m Emma,” I tried to keep my voice even, but it turned into a small whisper.

He noticed. His lips curling at the corner as he said, “Cillian.”

Cillian. It suited him.

His Asian features seemed familiar, yet unique. High cheekbones, a strong nose which seemed a little crooked—maybe from a fall—no, he didn’t look like someone who’d just accidentally fall—and hooded brows. His lips seemed soft and lush with a deep yet already healed scar running through them on the left corner. They seemed oddly inviting, but what unnerved me were… those eyes.

I looked away, blood rushing to my cheeks when he noticed me staring. What the fuck am I doing? I wasn’t someone who got embarrassed staring at someone else. Others get embarrassed and scared when I found them staring at me.

Who is this guy?

No—he was too big to be ever called a guy. He was a man through and through.

“Then we should—”

“Are you alone?” His smooth voice purred through my ear and I swallowed down the urge to lean closer and smell his perfume.

Or sit on his lap.

“What?” My voice was high-pitched, and I had to move my hair over my shoulder to fan my neck. I was getting hot. I was feeling hot. “Alone? Yes. I recently broke up with my jerk—”

“Let me rephrase, Doll.” He moved closer, so close that I could blink at his chocolaty eyes without craning my neck, so close that I could smell his smoky cologne, so close that his warm breath caressed my lips. “Did you come here alone?”

Doll. I had been called a doll many a time, but mostly it was condescending. When he said it though, it was as if he was making love to that word. Doll. Trailing the l’s a little and making my panties damp with just one fucking word. Doll. I wanted to hear him call me that again and again and again.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and nodded. “Yes. I came here alone.”

I knew what was coming next. He’d ask me for my hand if he’s a gentleman, but he didn’t look like he was a gentleman despite the expensive fabric of his suit and how polished his shoes were. He’d probably just take my hand or hurl me over his shoulder and lock us both in a room until we were satisfied.

He hummed, a low rumbling sound that felt too intimate and too raw. “Are you into primal kink, then?”

My eyes widened and my lips parted, his eyes flickering to them for a second. “Primal kink?”

“Prey? Predator?” He squinted his eyes as he looked over my body, my skin singing with warmth just by his gaze, and he hadn’t even touched me yet. “You seem like a prey.”

“I’m not!” I snapped, my hands clenching on my clutch as my heart began racing. Licking my lips, I averted my eyes from his face to his watch. It seemed oddly cheap compared to his entire expensive outfit. It didn’t match, but it was vintage. A classic.

I met his stare again and said, “I’m not. Why’d you ask?” Are you into it? I added mentally. If so, then I’m into it too.

His eyes slid over my shoulder and they sharpened like a blade. “Someone has been watching you, Emma.”

My nerves stirred, and I turned to see where he was looking. There were a lot of people in the club. But there was also a staged space where people who had voyeuristic kinks could watch the crowd. I shuddered, hating the feeling of being looked at when I wasn’t aware.

Shaking my head, I brushed it off, knowing someone must have recognized me from the thousands of tabloids with my face plastered all over them since my mother’s death.

“The only eyes I want on me right now are yours,” I whispered, keeping my attention on him, aware of others’ eyes turning towards us. Why wouldn’t they stare? He was so hot, and I was ready to pull my skirt up and sit on him then and there, giving them a worthy show.

“Is that so?” he grumbled, his voice low and rough. I shivered when the tips of his fingers brushed over my inner thigh before they trailed over my waist, his hold firm. Like he meant business. Like I was his for the night.

“Come with me. I’m going to take my time to see what that dirty little mouth does, Doll.”