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“Wereyouwet?”

She nods. He fucked her from behind. Getting his dick sloppy wet as he rubbed over her cunt. I saw it from down on the stage, only half focused on my presentation because I could see them up there. I could see the expression on her face.

“How about now?” I ask. “How wet are you?”

“A little.”

“Show me.” She spreads her legs wider, showing me her fingers slipping across her pink folds. “Your fingers.”

She holds them up and they’re slick and shiny. Coated in her own desire. My chest rises, knowing that that desire comes from looking at me.

“Lick them.” She opens her mouth to say something,to argue,and I warn in a low voice, “Don’t make me tell you twice.”

Her tongue darts out, licking over the tips of her fingers.

“Now suck.”

The pads vanish, deep in her mouth, and she sucks, sloppy and wet. It’s as much as I can stand, and I shove my hand under the elastic band of my pants, grabbing the base of my cock. It’s hot and heavy in my hand. Throbbing. Harder than I may have ever been before. Harder than with the girls at the Sanctum or at the Hideaway, who will do any goddamn thing I ask them to do, as long as there’s enough cash.

But there’s something about seeing Arianette like this, following my every command, not because I’m paying her–but because Iownher.

Dammit.

A trickle of cum spills from the tip. No. Not yet.

Arianette’s fingers dip back between her legs, and her breath turns jagged. Her eyes are hazy, either from the mandrake or maybe just from being so turned on. I let her get through the build up, I won’t stop her. Not like DK. That’s not my thing.

“You getting close?” I ask her. “You right on that edge?”

She nods, rubbing herself furiously, her tits heaving. I stand, abdomen caved, fisting the base of my dick, fighting the urge to give myself a long stroke. Her eyes are on my body, dragging from the tattoos over my chest down to the cut muscles that create a sharp V. I bend over her, keeping just enough distance not to touch her, and breathe, “Let yourself go, sister. Stop chasing and embrace it.”

Her eyes slam shut the second it hits, her nose scrunching up. Her mouth falls slack, that pink tongue taunting just behind her lips. I watch the orgasm take her, her fingers curling against her sex. She moans, the sound caught in her chest.

I slide my hand from my base up, giving myself the freedom to release, to cave, the urge to touch her too much. Just feel her skin. Feel the throbbing pulse beneath my fingertips. I lunge out, wrapping my hand around her throat, pushing her on her back. Arianette’s eyes fly open. Her breath is caught under the pressure of my fingers. I want nothing more than to see the vacant lapse in her eyes as I thrust myself inside.

“Hunter,” she fights against me. My fingers close, both around her throat and my cock.

I shove a knee between her thighs, barely getting them open before I cum, thick and hot, all over her still quivering pussy.

“Please stop.”

I blink, dragging myself out of the fog, looking at the girl with her dark, scared eyes covered in my cum. We share a beat, a long moment, where we both know this could go further. What I can’t tell is how much she wants it.

Flinching, I release her, and take a step back, leaving before I’m tempted to find out.

17

Timothy

Adjusting my mask,I step past the bouncer and into the dark haze of the club. Monroe is behind the bar and I gesture to him as I walk toward the secluded corner booth. Graves called earlier and reserved it for me. I could have gone to Trudie’s home to tell her about her son, but some things are better handled in public with society as a witness.

Also, I needed to get out of the house to consider the facts of what I’d learned about the Baroness. She’d been the one to take Armand’s life.

Shrugging off my cloak, I hang it on the hook next to the booth, and I’ve just taken my seat when a waitress appears, placing a napkin and glass on the table in front of me.

“Thank you, sweetheart.”

“You’re welcome.” Her lips quirk up, but falter, obviously a little nervous. Who wouldn’t be? She’s serving Forsyth Royalty. I lift the glass and take a sip. Club soda. I swallow it back and lament that it’s on nights like tonight that I wish I still consumed alcohol.