Page 11 of Moth & Flame (Gothika & The Blackspire Empire)
HELLA
T he foyer of Moth & Flame is a toasty reprieve from the foul weather torturing the skies as I slip inside the alley entrance with a swipe of my key, satchel of jewels and cash in hand. Having finally arrived to my blessed reprieve, I heave a sigh of relief, setting my bag down to remove my absurd trench coat and hat. Moans and cries pepper the air, muffled behind the doors of the various kink rooms, whilst my heart flutters on wings of anticipation.
Just as I’m about to peel off the thick handlebar moustache, a large, calloused hand closes over my mouth, and a tall, thickly muscled body presses firmly against me from behind. A warm baritone voice in my ear. “What’s a pretty little kitten like you doing all alone without her Master, hm?”
His head dips low, and I feel his mouth at the curve of my neck, spreading into a grin before he grazes his fangs against the sensitive flesh, making my nipples tighten on command. “Do you need to be punished?”
I give a muffled, “Yes, sir,” through his palm. His hand moves from my mouth to my throat as the arm barred at my waist slips beneath my dress. A needy whimper escapes as he tugs my panties to the side and his fingers glide through my already-slick folds and over my clit. “Fuck, kitten, is all this sweetness just for me?”
“Yes, daddy.”
Draven turns me around, dark eyes bright with desire and need. When his gaze dips to my moustache, dangling halfway across my mouth, I bestow a sultry grin. “I wore something special for you, darling. Don’t you like it?” My tongue flicks out to tease the moustache for a split second before we both burst into laughter.
And that’s all it takes for the weight of the world to lift from my shoulders. By the time our laughter slows, Draven has already pulled me against his chest, hands cupping my face as he stares down into my grinning, half-moustachioed face. He manages a gravelly hum through his chuckle.
“I wouldn’t want you any other way, love.”
My heart swoons like it’s ready to swing right off the edge of a cliff and into Draven’s big, strong arms.
Which is technically what I’m about to try and do.
Draven bows his head to gently tug the moustache the rest of the way off with his teeth before letting it sail to the ground. Our eyes linger, and time seems to suspend. The tension between us draws so tight, I want nothing more than to sag in his arms and beg him to kiss me.
It’s been three months of this. I’ve fallen head-over-fucking-heels for this male. It’s surreal that, technically, if it weren’t for Lazarus—I wouldn’t even know his name.
Draven’s expression gradually hardens and as his hand fists a length of my hair in a way that bares my throat to him. My pulse ratchets higher as my arousal blooms when he brings his nose to my neck, nuzzling in a way that is pure dominance, heightened further as he nips and grazes my pulse point.
“Thank you for last night, love, but I have to admit. I’m not entirely sure whether I want to punish you or reward you.”
My heart stutters and pussy clenches at the memory as a grin glides across my face. It’s the first time we’re acknowledging the fact that he’s been following me home every night, and it pushes us closer towards the last remaining boundaries between us that I so desperately want to demolish.
“Both?”
He draws back to hold my gaze. My eyes devour every hard plane and sharp angle of his face, the impervious, brutal strength and power his combat-honed body exudes. If he’d been hewn from marble, you’d think his creator had sought to wreak vengeance with each strike of the mallet. Yet the tenderness he consistently shows me—that crosses every line of professionalism—is enough to make me a puddle.
“So fucking perfect.”
The words are murmured as if he’s saying them more to himself than to me. This male is the sum total of every single one of my fantasies, and so help me, Akash, I’m going to make him mine.