Chapter 31 The Perfect Storm
THE PERFECT STORM
EMERY
If you push a man far enough, you’ll see him snap. You’ll see him question his beliefs, his morals, and even his boundaries. Damon snapped. In the most breathtaking way possible.
A wall of hot, sweet heat greets us as we strut through the halls of Club Hades toward his breaking point.
His emerald ring sits tight around my finger.
No one will dare touch me tonight. Not with the ring.
Not with the furious man on my arm. He may be broken on the inside, like me, but on the outside…
he’s fucking Kevlar. Stoic, tough, and radiating the aura of a damn king.
No one can touch me. But they can watch.
My skin pebbles at the thought of him watching.
He’s only seen the home video, but tonight, tonight it’s live.
In the flesh. Right before his greedy eyes.
“You’re shaking,” Damon grumbles, glancing down at my naked body, only a pair of heels and sheer slip separating me from the animals.
His gaze lingers on my stiff nipples peeking through the thin fabric, and he slowly licks his dry lips.
Despite his reservations, he’s been hard since we got into the car. “Are you sure you’re ready?”
“Are you?” I breathe out as we stop in front of The Playground. Dozens of sweaty bodies move in feral movements before us, limbs twisted, contorted, and entwined with a chaotic craving for ungodly release. My sex pulses, wanting and ready. “This was your idea, Mr. Cavanaugh, remember?”
He glares at me, knowing and dark. “No, Emery. It was yours.”
A loud and hoarse grunt draws my attention to the far end of The Playground, and I snap my head toward the enticing noise. My lungs expand as Quinton peers up at me. He reclines on the sofa, one hand palming the back of a woman’s head as she slobbers all over his cock, choking on it, tasting him.
There’s a lot of him, too. Mmm.
Damon growls under his breath, digging his fingers into my side as he jerks me against him, his lips tickling my ear as he says, “I’m going to fuck you so hard, mami, you won’t even notice that he’s there.”
“Challenge accepted,” I coo, my body humming with anticipation as I lead him to the empty corner on the other side of the room.
I remove the slip and flick my gaze toward Quin. My Quin. For tonight, at least. It’s a direct view. Unobstructed. He can see it all. And I want him to see. I want his gaze locked on me. On us. On Damon’s hands all over my fucking body.
“Sit.” Damon pushes me onto the red leather sofa, towering above me as he unbuttons his dress shirt. He’s pissed. Good. I’m not here to make love. I’m here to get fucked. And when he’s angry? That’s the shit I like. “Lean back. Open your legs.”
My glossy gaze floats across his chiseled chest, mouth drying as he unbuckles his belt, his pants dropping to the floor before he steps out. His veiny cock teases me, mere inches away but I do as I’m told and spread.
“Good girl,” he rasps, sinking down on his knees. He runs his nose along the soft apex of my thighs, inhaling my scent, my arousal. He peers up at me, stern and so fucking sexy as he says, “Get ready, mami. I’m going to make you come so many times you’ll forget your fucking name.”
He doesn’t let me answer. He lurches forward, hooking his hands around my thighs.
He dives in, licking, flicking, sucking on my clit.
I throw my head back and moan, my core fucking vibrating as he eats the living shit out of me.
I run my fingers through his hair, gripping it as I force my head straight, as I struggle to see through the pleasure.
My pussy pulses as he devours me, and I gasp, meeting the gaze of the man across the room.
Quinton's jaw ticks, his hooded eyes unwavering in their assault as he stares at me.
Almost through me. A woman approaches him, bending over the table in front of him, her bare ass wiggling beside him.
Without breaking eye contact, he licks two fingers and plunges them inside of her. She moans. I do too.
Fucking hell.
Damon’s teeth craze my clit, nibbling the sensitive nerves. My toes curl, stomach clenching as he shoves his fingers inside of me, fast and aggressive.
Quinton’s lips twist into a dirty smirk as he continues to finger the woman on the table, his cock getting sucked by a redhead. He knows. He knows how close I am.
“Come,” Damon grunts between breaths, his tongue soaking up all my slickness. “Come for me.”
And I do. So fucking hard. My legs quiver and shake, ripples of euphoria washing over me. Just as the feeling subsides and I think I have a moment to breathe, Damon hoists me to my feet and drops down on the low-level table, lying flat across the glass.
“Ride my face, mami.”
I swallow, and a sense of insecurity pangs in my chest.
He grabs the back of my damp thighs, breathing ragged and heavy and confident. “I said ride.”
Hesitating for only a brief second, I crawl up on the table and position myself above his plump, wet lips. He makes the decision for me, pulling me down against his large, sloppy tongue.
“Fuck…” I moan, knees digging into the table as he glides his mouth against me, side to side, deciding my speed. My breasts bounce with every calculated movement, and I pinch my nipples, relishing in his expert ministrations. “Damon.”
The woman across the room releases Quinton’s cock, wiping her chin before standing up.
She gives him a smile, and he nods, his nails digging into her hips as he settles her on his lap.
With one glance at me, Quinton grins, bringing her down onto his erection—hard.
She screams. An actual scream, and I don’t like that. At all.
Damon slaps my ass as I accidentally slow down, and I pick up my pace, matching the bitch riding Quin’s cock. It’s like a race. And I intend on finishing first.
Rocking my hips with ferocious speed, I moan, throwing my head back as another wave of pleasure drowns me. And Damon. He’s soaked. Swimming in my release.
“Come here,” Damon growls, slipping out from under me. He grabs my arm, yanks me off the table, and shoves me headfirst into the couch. “Ass up, mami. Open those fucking cheeks for me.”
My heart fucking hammers in my chest, my limbs tired and sated, but I do as I’m told. I do as he wishes. I do as I wish. And I want him. I want him inside of me. So deep inside.
Damon slaps my ass. Hard. And again and again and again. I lurch forward each time, the side of my face gliding against the cold leather.
Quinton bends the woman over, doggy style. So he can see. So he can see me. So he can pretend the pussy he’s fucking is mine. Damon’s palm smacks one more time against my reddened skin, and I yelp, legs shaking.
“Spread your ass for me,” he rasps, dragging the tip of his cock along my slit, teasing me, taunting me, giving me fucking life. My spine curls as he surges forward, ripping my walls and stretching me wide open. “Fuck, baby.”
“Oh, God,” I moan as he slips in and out of me, lightly slapping my sore ass. “Don’t stop. Don’t you dare fucking stop.”
Suddenly, Damon arches over, pinning my arms behind my back. He pulls me backward, my cheeks slapping against his lower belly as he continues to hammer me dead. He snakes one arm around my neck, my wrists secured in his grasp.
My head rests on his shoulder, his lips feathering my ear lobe as he growls, “You like being watched, don’t you?
” No words. Only whimpers. Only moans. Only primal breaths of damnation escape me.
“Answer me!” He tightens his grip around my throat, creating more euphoric pleasure.
“You like being a little slut, don’t you?
You like being fucked like a dirty whore? ”
“Y-yes…yes!” I manage, my entire fucking body reacting to him. To the strain in his voice, to the roughness of his actions, to his fucking everything.
He expels a devilishly dark chuckle, his chest vibrating against my spine. “And whose little slut are you, mami? Huh?” His voice drops low. Menacing. “Whose?!”
“Yours,” I whimper, my insides pulsing and shaking and ready to explode. “Yours!”
“And don’t you forget that,” he grunts, slamming into me with one final thrust that shoots me over the edge. He spills inside me, groaning. “Fuck…”
I take a deep breath, unable to see, unable to move.
Damon pulls back for a second, and I swing a leg over the couch. He stops me. “Where do you think you’re going?” I crane my neck over my shoulder, and he grins at me. “We’re not anywhere near done.” He nods to the table. “Lay down.”
“But—”
He lifts a stern brow, waiting for me to say the word that stops it all. My lips stayed glued shut. He wants me to snap. He wants me to bend. And I get it. An even playing ground. The jokes on him, though. He doesn’t have nearly enough cum in those balls to make me break.
“Yes, sir,” I purr, my calves hitting the edge of the table as I stumble over, wobbly and uncoordinated.
Damon strokes his cock as I lower myself down and spread my thighs open. A part of me is surprised he’s still hard. Another part isn’t shocked at all. Damon’s heady gaze flicks down to my pussy, to his cum leaking out of me. He grins, admiring his dripping mark.
I tilt my head, snaking a hand down to my sex, my fingers mixing his juices with my own. A feral groan rumbles out of him as I bring my index finger to my lips and lick.
“Mmm.”
That’s all it takes. Like a carnivorous beast, he pounces on me, his cock slipping inside me with effortless ease, and then he fucks me. All of me. Every inch of my skin is covered by his touch, by his licks, by his pinches and slaps, and beautifully cruel kisses.
He smothers me with sin, with heaven, with all the wicked levels of hell until he wins. Until the entire room disappears and all I can see is him. His touch hypnotizes me as he moans my name, as he fucking sings it, like a goddamn hymn.
When the song ends, he collapses on top of me, our breaths dancing in the aftermath of an earth-shattering natural disaster.
It has to be a disaster. Nothing that feels this fucking good is ever a blessing.
But as he sits up, features tame and soft, he looks down at me like I’m an angel, something holy.
And for a fleeting second, I almost want to believe him.
“Would you like some water?” he murmurs, stroking damp pieces of hair out of my face. I manage a nod, parched and tired. He slips out of me, and I wince. He notices. “I’ll clean you off when I get back. Don’t move.”
“Couldn’t even if I wanted to,” I mutter back, closing my eyes.
I feel his lips against my forehead, and then he leaves.
My heart, unable to slow down, continues to beat rapidly.
I place a hand over my chest and force a deep, steadying breath.
A few seconds pass, and I feel a warm hand cupping my cheek, tilting my head to the side.
My eyelids flutter open. “That was fas—”
Quinton's cloudy gaze flits across my sedated features. “I couldn’t take my eyes off of you, darling.”
My pulse quickens again, his touch burning a mark on my skin. A touch I shouldn’t be feeling. Not physically. Definitely not emotionally.
“If he sees you doing this,” I breathe, “he might actually kill you.” My gaze sweeps across his bruised face. “You should go.”
His thumb caresses my hairline, the pressure so fucking tender, almost painfully intimate as he leans over, whispering in my ear. “I’ll take my chances, darling. What’s life without a little death?”
I shiver, banishing this foreign feeling that's gnawing at my insides. “Go. You need to go.”
And he does.
For the next three minutes after his departure, I’m left craving his company.
And Damon’s.
Both of them.
Together.
Like thunder and lightning.
A perfect storm.