**Public Display**

I knew Elijah Mikaelson was dangerous, but that’s why I couldn’t resist him. The man oozed power, with his sharp smirk and those cold eyes that saw right through me. Tonight, he’d dragged me into some high-end bar, all dark wood and dim lighting, the kind of place where rich people pretended they weren’t watching each other fuck in the bathrooms.

Elijah sat across from me, sipping whiskey like he owned the world, while I fidgeted under his stare. He leaned in, voice smooth as sin. “You’re nervous,” he observed, fingers tracing the rim of his glass. “Why?”

I swallowed. “Because I know what you want.”

His laugh was low, dark. “Oh? And what’s that?”

I didn’t answer, but my thighs pressed together. He noticed, of course. His hand slid across the table, fingers brushing mine. “I want you to show everyone exactly who you belong to.”

My stomach flipped. Public. Humiliation. He wanted people to *see*.

His grip tightened, pulling me to my feet. Before I could protest, he guided me to the bar, pressing me against the polished wood. People were watching now—subtle glances, whispers—but Elijah didn’t care. His lips brushed my ear. “Lift your skirt.”

My face burned, but I obeyed, bunching the fabric at my waist. His fingers hooked into the sides of my panties, dragging them down my thighs. The cool air hit my bare pussy, and I whimpered.

“Good girl,” he murmured. Then his fingers were sliding through my folds, rubbing my clit in slow, teasing circles. I bit my lip to stifle a moan, but my hips jerked against his hand.

Someone nearby cleared their throat. I didn’t dare look, but Elijah smirked. “They’re wondering if you’ll come just from this,” he said, voice just loud enough to carry. His fingers pushed inside me, curling deep. “Will you?”

I gasped, my cunt clenching around him. He fucked me with his fingers, slow and deliberate, the wet sounds obscene in the quiet hum of the bar. My nails dug into the wood, legs shaking.

Elijah’s other hand gripped my hair, yanking my head back. “Look at them,” he ordered. My eyes fluttered open, meeting the stunned, hungry stares of strangers. A woman’s lips parted. A man adjusted his pants.

And Elijah *laughed*.

“Pathetic,” he murmured, fingers working faster now, my pussy dripping down my thighs. “You love it, don’t you? Being their little show.”

I couldn’t answer. Pleasure coiled tight in my belly, my body betraying me as I rocked against his hand. The humiliation burned, but so did the pleasure, and when his thumb pressed hard on my clit—

I came with a choked cry, legs buckling as my pussy pulsed around his fingers.

Elijah held me up, his lips against my ear. “That’s one,” he said. “Now let’s give them a real show.”

Then he unzipped his pants.