Page 13 of Draco's Defiance
“Mr. Vaughn.” Oscar peered past Draco and eyed Moira. “Is everything okay?”
“Everything’s grand, thank you.”
Based on the lustful look in Oscar’s eyes, he’d have been quite happy to trade places with him.
“That’s good to know.” Oscar nodded politely. “Let us know if you need anything.”
“I will.” Draco grinned as both the window and the barrier rose at the same time.
“You have your own security?” She shook her head as though his lifestyle was contemptible, but the smile on her lips said otherwise.
“Most of our properties do, yes,” he answered, already maneuvering his car down into the underground parking lot.
“And when you say, ‘ours,’ you mean belonging to your family?”
“My brothers and I, yes.” Glancing her way, he switched off the engine. It was uncommon for him to share so much personal information with his latest bed-mate, but he found the conversation with Moira easy and fun. He realized that however alarming the prospect, he might actually want to tell her more about his life.
“Dare I ask how you made all of your money?” Releasing her safety belt, she twisted to face him.
“The truth is that my father made all the money, and my brothers do most of the management now he’s gone.”
“He’s dead?” Her brows knitted. “I’m sorry, Draco.”
“It’s fine.” He hadn’t meant to sound as nonchalant as he did. He’d rarely argued with his father, but the two had been very different men. In the end, Draco had the sense that Michael had allowed him to ‘get on with it’ so long as Draco stayed out of his way and out of the family businesses. That had suited Draco. “He’s been gone a while. As it turns out, my superpower isn’t making money; it’s spending it.”
She laughed at that, her gaze following her hand as Draco lifted it to his lips and kissed her fingertips. Her skin was soft at his mouth, the taste of her rousing his already swollen cock. “Nicer problems to have.”
“Exactly.” Freeing her hand, he unfastened his belt and looked her straight in the eyes. “Are you ready to go inside?”
“Is this you giving me one last chance to run?”
Fuck, he liked the way she made that sound. “Maybe.”
Moira had no way of knowing what she was getting herself into. Sure, he’d been open and as consensual as he could about what they’d do when they arrived at his place, but there was no way for her to know about the ropes permanently attached to his bed, nor the playroom that housed his cage and St. Andrew’s cross.
Moira Craig was as clueless as she appeared naïve, and he was ready to devour her.
“Thanks for the offer of the reprieve.” Her gaze darted to his lap, as though she knew what awaited her. “But I’m ready for whatever you have in mind, Mr. Vaughn.”
Chapter Five
Moira
EVERYTHING ABOUT DRACO’S home seemed designed to inspire wonder. From the mirrored elevator that took them from the parking lot to the first floor of the swanky apartment, to the enormous, marbled lobby area, Moira knew she’d never been anywhere like it before. She hadn’t exactly grown up in poverty. Her parents had been middle-class and had given her access to a great school and private tuition, but never in her wildest dreams had she imagined wealth of the sorts Draco’s family clearly enjoyed.
“Is it too early for a drink?” Draco strode ahead, glancing back with the inquiry. Arching a dark blond eyebrow at her, his lips twitched as he waited on her verdict.
“Probably,” she answered, unsure how she’d ended up in such an opulent place. She’d left for work like every other morning, and had spent the day hunched over her desk, never anticipating her day diverging into such an unexpected distraction.
Following him past an array of doors and into what looked like a vast living room, she shrugged. “But what the hell.”
She was so far down the rabbit hole at that point, it hardly seemed worth worrying about one measure of alcohol. What harm could it do?
“Good girl.” He winked as he wandered closer to a small bar area, his comment resonating through her.
Good girl? She straightened at his words. Girl.
How old did he think she was? Moira was a successful professional in her early thirties. She’s was no one’s ‘girl,’ and yet she couldn’t deny the way his praise affected her. She’d felt the visceral reaction as it raced along her spine and sensed it in her hammering heart rate. His response had turned her on.