You Are Mine Little Sister (by Syra Tucker) novel Chapter 126

My lips parted and waited for him to get into the driver's seat. "It's late. Where are we going?"

"You'll see." He didn't look over as he started the car.

I glanced at my clothes. "W—Well, I'm not even dressed. You could've told me we—"

"I'm not taking you to dinner, Green. Your lounge set is fine."

The city blurred into a thirty-minute ribbon of sodium lights and closed storefronts. We turned onto a quieter street and parked in front of a three-story complex that looked like it belonged to a different, richer version of night.

From the curb, it was all clean lines and old bones: black brick on the corners, broad panes of glass banded by steel, an art-deco cornice pressed flat against the sky.

Void was actually smiling—small and private—when he rounded to my door and offered me a hand. I let him pull me out, hoping to God this wasn't a new kink or something.

"The plan was to show you in the morning," he said, lacing our fingers as we crossed the stone. "I couldn't wait."

"Show me what?"

He didn't answer.

"This looks like someone's company. Please, don't tell me you brought me here to steal."

Or what if it belonged to one of his victims or a threat and he was trying to steal information from them?

Well, I'd never stolen before, but I sure knew a thief wasn't supposed to have a key card to the main entrance. Not unless he stole it, of course.

I watched with astonishment as we walked into the company and met an 'empty' floor.

Oh...

I mean, it wasn't entirely empty, but I was expecting to see a lobby filled with goods, files and all. This one looked like something new, the white walls still smelling faintly of new paint and plaster dust.

The reception desk was a block of pale wood. Track lights dozed along the ceiling, with only a few security strips lit—thin rivers of brightness pooling across the floor.

And mannequins. Dozens of them. Lined up in tidy ranks. There were headless torsos on chrome poles, full-body forms with blank faces and hands, half-scale dress forms perched on wheeled bases. A few stood naked, others wore muslin mockups pinned in place.

To the right was an elevator, but I didn't have any intention of seeing what the other floors looked like. Not until I knew what the hell this place was.

His face cooled. "I'm serious. If you don't do all of these within a week and get back to me, there would be consequences."

Something warm loosened under my sternum. A small tear touched my cheek.

"I—I don't know what to say." My voice snapped in the middle.

This was bigger than a dream. It was a fast-forward I never thought I'd earn. I'd always wanted my own brand, of course, but not in ten years did I think this would be possible. I didn't want to give a thought to the money that must've gone into it.

"You don't have to say anything. Your mouth and pussy will do."

A laugh broke out of me. I crossed the space and threw my arms around his neck, hugging him like I could pay him back with ribs and breath. I felt him go still, then slowly, his hands came around my waist and pulled me tight, anchoring me to his gravity.

He was still the Torturer. He was still very dangerous and merciless. But this—this made him read as human to me, grazing the border of something I could call 'mine.'

"God, thank you. So much!"

Three minutes later, my moans were ricocheting off the walls, the mannequins bearing witness as he fucked me on the edge of the cutting table.