The girl was impossible to get off my mind.

The way she had moved. She was made to dance. That curvy, tight and petite little body had to be moving, swaying its hips to the sound of the music, grinding against a metal pole. I knew it was why she’d been hired. She was born to dance the way she had danced for me that night, and even though she ran away from me, I knew I needed to see her again.

Or maybe it was just because of that. Because she was so fucking scared of me, the mere sight of my damaged face making her run. Because I was a fucking monster. A beast she needed to get away from.

At first, I only had the name the club had given her. Lolita.

It was what initially caught my attention. It was no secret I liked younger girls, and even though they’d told me she was closer to twenty-five than twenty, I wanted her. The name didn’t disappoint. She was a vixen in that get-up, the black and pink fucking with my head and my cock as I watched her dance for me. Her heels were much too high, but she mastered them perfectly. I’d always admired girls who could walk so perfectly in heels that high. To me it looked like she was walking on a pair of stilts. But she looked graceful and beautiful doing it, as well as undeniably, mouth-wateringly sexy.

I didn’t feel an initial attraction to the girl. Not until she started dancing, moving to the beat of the song, her body doing everything I needed it to. She was fucking perfection, and I got pissed off thinking about her dancing for someone else. I needed her just for me. She was going to dance for one man only.

The man who scared her so much she had to fight her screams when she looked at my face.

I was a sick fuck, but I couldn’t let go of the idea. I needed her for myself.

I made the necessary arrangements to find the girl. It was difficult, because I was one of the newer members of Empire Sin. But I’d quickly learned my lesson – show these people the right amount of cash, and they’d give you anything you wanted. Money was king in their world where greed ruled supreme. And I knew I would have her eventually. But the wait was fucking killing me.

I wanted to wrap my hands around her throat again. I wanted to feel her heartbeat pick up, racing to catch up with her thoughts.

Was I really going to hurt her?

I’d never done it to a woman before.

Yes, I had peculiar tastes, but when it actually came to physically hurting a member of the opposite sex, I couldn’t bring myself to go through with it. I didn’t know whether it just wasn’t a sexual preference, or if I hadn’t met the right girl to try it out with yet. Maybe she’d be the one. There was no denying the fact that she woke up something primal inside me. A need to protect her that coincided with the deep desire to inflict harm. I had to do it.

Finally, two weeks after she danced for me, I got the call.

“She’s available,” a voice told me over the phone. “I’m not sure she’s willing to see you, though.”

“I don’t give a shit,” I snarled down the line. “I want to see her, at any fucking cost. Bring her to my office tomorrow after eight p.m. I’ll be working late.”

“We’ll do our best,” the voice replied and I ended the call.

I felt well and truly like a monster then. If the girl didn’t want to see me, why was I forcing her to do so?

The only answer that held true was, I couldn’t fucking resist it. I needed to see her. I needed to see if my body still reacted to hers. And most of all, I needed to see her dance for me again.

I was working late evenings that week, working on a case I shouldn’t have accepted.

I was the worst scum on the planet – a criminal defense attorney. I protected those who hurt others, and I helped them get away with whatever the fuck they’d done. It was how I’d gotten my introduction to Empire Sin, as well.

After defending a well-known billionaire businessman, I was handed a simple business card by the man. I still remember turning it over in my hands, wondering what the fuck it was and why it was worth me saving his life to give it to me. The man merely winked at me and told me it would all be worth it, I just had to get in touch with the club.

I did, a week or so later, on a particularly lonely night. The only answer I got to my questions was an address to a club they called Empire Sin – an exclusive gentlemen’s club which promised to give me everything I’d ever dreamed of, for a hefty price. But with my pockets heavy from my client’s fee, I felt confident and ready to take on anything. I spent my first night in the club on the same day, and I left with two pairs of panties in my pocket and my cock still throbbing against my pants after being inside two juicy, young cunts.

And now her, my Lolita… Charli.

It had only been my third visit, and I felt like a jackass for making the kinds of demands I just did to get her brought to me. But enough money to line their pockets, and those people would’ve done anything for me. I loved having that power. Coming from a home with fuck-all, it felt incredible to finally own something. To be the master of my own luck… Whoever said money didn’t bring happiness fucking obviously didn’t have any.

I worked late that day, and barely made it home in time to get a few hours of sleep. I had forgone dinner, but had a quick breakfast before I went back to the office to work on my defense case. I thought I’d be preoccupied with thoughts of her, to work on anything, but I rarely found my mind wandering. I was fully invested in my case, trying to find a solution that would benefit everyone, but mostly my client, and my pocket as well.

I almost forgot what the time was, but my assistant knocked on the door shyly after what felt like days I’d spent buried in paperwork.

“Hello, Mr. Wolfe,” she said softly. “Sorry to interrupt you, but I have to head out home now. I’ve already stayed behind for a few hours.”

“Fine,” I said with annoyance, not even looking up from the papers on the desk in front of me. “What’s the time, anyway?”

“Seven forty-five,” she told me, then closed the door when I raised my head and quickly made her way out. Probably too fucking worried I’d ask her to stay if she stuck around for much longer.

I was a ruthless boss, but Laura and I got along well. She was a good assistant, and she had no annoying family to take care of, which meant she was available to be at my beck and call for most of the day. I used that to my advantage, but I also paid her a much too high salary which ensured she wouldn’t be snapped up by someone else, or tempted into leaving.

Yeah. I had abandonment issues. Not that it fucking mattered at the end of the day, because I got my fucking work done every single day, and that was all that was important.

I poured myself a glass of whisky and drank it in one big gulp. It didn’t burn anymore. I barely remembered what pain felt like these days.

I heard the elevator door ding a few minutes later, still deep in thought. I knew it could be no one other than the guards with the girl I wanted to see, and my cock tightened in my pants at the memory of her. She wasn’t my usual kind of girl. Too shy. But the way she had danced… It was eye-opening, and the desire that awoke inside of me just watching her move that beautiful body made me want her more than I had anything else, ever.

Setting my glass down, I sat down in the expensive Chesterfield couch in my office, waiting for them to come in.

The guards came first, too brawny men with concealed guns behind their backs. They weren’t even hidden that fucking well, and I briefly wondered whether the girl was forced to come here to see me. The last time, after all, hadn’t gone well at all. She’d ran from me the moment I got rough, the moment I showed her my true dark side. And I almost hated it for it… but not as much as I fucking wanted her.

“She’s ready,” one of the guards told me. “We can bring her in now if you’d like to see her[JH2] .”

“Bring her in,” I said coolly, leaning back against the heavy leather of the couch as I waited for the girl to be brought in. I wondered whether she would struggle before coming to stand in front of me. I half-hoped she would, because I wanted to punish her. Not just for the last time, when she’d ran from me like I’d hurt her.

That came later. Not on the first meeting. The first time was just to scare her a little, to remind her who the man in charge was. Hopefully she was still scared of me.

I smoothed down my lapels, reaching for my face and outlining the shape of my scar with my fingertips, remembering what kind of a man I was really like. The scar defined me, shaped me. I was a man because of that scar. I was broken because of it, but I was also stronger, having it there for anyone to see.

The first thing I saw were the guards. As they stepped aside after coming through the door, the girl emerged from between them.

She looked… different.

A sinful little vixen, wearing high heels and a dress that left nothing to the imagination. A tight red thing that would’ve been a much better fit for a seductress twice her age. But she looked fucking stunning. Her lips had been painted in a cherry red shade, and she wore the outfit with confidence I didn’t remember from the last time.

“Charli[JH3] ,” I said with a mocking tone to my voice. “How nice to see you again.”

She approached me, not a sign of the fear I sensed last time.

Up close, she looked younger, sweeter. She looked like fucking jailbait, and my cock wanted her. I felt it straining against my pants as she slid onto my lap like the best taught little good girl I’d ever seen.

“Hello,” she purred, her voice so much more confident than the last time I saw her. “I’m glad you wanted to see me.”

“I thought you’d be opposed, given what happened last time,” I told her as she straddled me. Her body tensed at my words, and I briefly wondered why. I forced my hands to stay on the leather of the couch, even though I wanted nothing more but to tighten my hands around her slender white neck. She looked smaller than last time, so petite she really did look like a sinful little girl I shouldn’t have even been looking at.

The name Lolita suited her perfectly. Her cherry red lips were made to suck.

“I’d rather not talk about that,” she purred, pressing her tight little body against mine. My cock reacted, and she giggled when she felt me pressing painfully against her pussy.

“You like me,” she said, almost sounding surprised. “I knew you would.”

“I think it was obvious last time,” I grinned at her. “You’re the one who ran away from me. What was that all about anyway, babydoll?”

“I…” She gave me a shy smile which looked incredibly fake on that mischievous face of her. She was a little vixen, sly as a fox, sexy as a fucking porn star. “I’d rather not talk about the past.”

“Something’s off,” I told her, and her body stiffened.

“W-what?” she stuttered.

“You,” I growled. “You’re a different girl today. A totally different girl.”

Her pretty little body was stiff against mine as I raised my hands and put them on her, touching her silky skin, her dress riding up to reveal a pair of black lace panties.

“You liked me better before?” she asked tentatively, and I brushed some hair off her face.

Even though someone had applied makeup to her face with a heavy hand, her natural beauty shone through. She must’ve looked even younger without that lipstick and those heavy black lashes, but for some reason, I loved seeing her in the get-up. Like a little girl playing dress up. And I fucking couldn’t wait to ruin her perfectly applied makeup. She was going to cry so pretty for me once I got my hands on her.

“No,” I said roughly. “I like you the way you are right now much more, babydoll. You’re fucking perfect for what I need.”

She grinned at me, her perfect, straight white teeth complimenting the cherry lipstick she was wearing.

“Good to know,” she purred. “I hope you will like me more and more.”

“You know why you’re here?” I asked her, and she shook her head innocently.

I was about to go on when her palm connected with my face. The gentlest of touches, her fingertips touching my scar so brazenly I was scared for her. She outlined the long scar, all the way from my jaw, over my cheek, over my eye, her fingers brushing my lashes. She touched the bald spot in my eyebrow, looked into my bad eye, and followed the scar into my hairline.

“Ugly,” she said gently.

I stared at her in complete disbelief. No one in my life had ever dared talk about my scar in front of me, much less call me ugly.

Yes, some women got off on the look it gave me, and others got so terrified they didn’t even dare to look at my face openly. The scar had changed my life. What happened the day I got it shaped me into a monster, a fucking beast. And now this little girl, this fucking vixen, was reminding me of things I spent years trying to forget.

“You…” she went on softly, touching my cheek again. “You think you’re ugly.”

I opened my mouth to reply, but before any words could come, she lowered her lips against mine. She was almost shy about it, a sharp contrast to the confident way she’d been acting in the whole time before.

Her lips opened around mine and she kissed me clumsily, like a girl who barely had any experience with it. But the second my mouth responded, she mewled in surprise, and I grabbed her by that beautiful blonde hair and pulled her in against me, taking her mouth and claiming it for myself. She could play the sweet, naughty vixen all she wanted, but I knew what she really was. I’d seen her dance.

“Open your mouth,” I groaned against her lips, and she parted them in a little gasp. I forced my tongue in, past her gag reflex, and I fucked that mouth with my tongue. Her eyes flew open and she stared at me when I grabbed her throat and took her. She wasn’t innocent. She could pretend if she wanted to, but I had my own ways of bringing out her inner slut.

She pulled back a moment later, but I wouldn’t let her. Not until I was done with that whore mouth, gasping and mewling against my lips until her lipstick got smeared all over her chin. And then I pulled back.

“I want you,” I told her simply. “How much do you want?”

She scoffed and glared at me.

“Like you can afford me.”

I laughed out loud at her.

“How much do you think you’re worth, babydoll?” I asked her with a grin, and she bit her bottom lip.

“A million,” she said with fake confidence dripping from her voice.

“A million for a night?” I asked her, raising my eyebrows.

She shifted nervously on my lap.

“A million for a month,” she said, and I laughed at her.

“Done,” I said simply. “Starting right the fuck now.”