Chapter 21
Leeva
A mix of wild anticipation, lust, and panic fills me. The anticipation and lust are obvious; the panic is because, for him to do what he said, he’ll need to remove his mask.
Do I want to see his face? Know who he is?
What if he wants me to remove mine?
“Lie back, siren.” His voice is deep and sexy as hell, but suddenly, I feel like it’s masked somehow, just like his face.
Oh God, I’m losing it with my panic.
It’s like he’s innately in tune with me, and he goes still after getting on his knees in front of the low sofa. “What’s wrong?”
“Your mask.”
His hands trail up my thighs, exposed by how my dress is sitting. “I’ll only lift it enough to expose my mouth.”
“Can I see your mouth?” I ask without thinking. But now that the question is out there, it’s all I can think about.
Are his lips thin or full? Is he clean-shaven or bearded?
He considers my request for what feels like an eternity, then nods. Slowly, he pushes the mask up, though it still covers everything except his neck and lower face.
His neck is corded and tattooed, and my core clenches. His jaw is strong and covered in scruff. Next, I stare at his mouth. His lips aren’t thin or full, but somewhere in between.
And all I can think about is having those lips on my skin.
“You ran the other night after seeing the tattoo on my back, didn’t you?” he asks in a deep, quiet voice.
One of the tattoos on his neck is a smaller version of the Havoc Guardians logo, and now I understand why his mask covers his throat.
“Yes,” I admit.
“You don’t have to be afraid, siren,” he says low and gruff. “I’ll never hurt you.”
It sounds like he quietly says, “Never again,” but before I can question if I heard him right, he drags his knuckle down the lace of my thong and presses into me.
“So fucking wet,” he growls, lower and deeper than I’ve heard before. Slowly, he pulls my panties off and down my legs, then spreads my legs wider to accommodate his broad shoulders. “And all mine.”
My mouth falls open as his mouth finds my pussy.
Oh, sweet thundering hell.
My hips instinctively rise, pushing into his face.
“That’s it, siren,” he praises. “Fuck, you taste like sin.”
Then he devours me like the wolf, like the predator, he is.
All I can do is take it and writhe and moan. I’m not even watching the scene in the other room. Whenever I open my eyes, it’s to look down at him between my thighs. And seeing his tongue and wet, glistening lips when he raises his head is nearly my undoing.
But he isn’t letting me come. Each time I get close, he eases off, pulling me from the edge.
Sounds of my frustration fill the room after he once again pulls me back from the brink of heaven.
His chuckle is deep. “Watch the couple in the other room.”
His voice sounds different, my lust-drunk brain finally registers, but he yanks on my thighs, so I’m no longer reclined against the back of the sofa, but lying along it.
“Watch them,” he orders again and repositions himself between my legs.
The couple in the room have…progressed. She’s still restrained, but she’s now facing the cross structure instead of having her back to it.
The top portion of the cross is slightly bent backward, causing the woman to bend over slightly, with her ass pushed out.
The man is on his knees with his face buried.
“What are they doing?” my wolf asks me as he begins to eat me again.
My cheeks heat from lust but also from shocked embarrassment as I realize what the man is doing when he spreads the woman’s ass cheeks apart and then buries his face again.
“Answer me, or I stop,” my wolf warns, deep, low, and dangerous.
“He’s…” Oh god, he bites my clit, and I nearly come. “Please,” I whimper and beg while grinding against his face.
“Tell me,” he growls.
“He’s… He’s licking her…” God, I can’t even say it out loud.
My wolf chuckles and pushes my knees to my chest. “He’s eating her ass? Just like this?”
My eyes pop wide, and I choke, “Fuck.”
I’ve never done anything anal-related in the past. He’s the first.
My legs shake as he pins them in place, keeping my hips rolled up, giving him full access to explore and defile me in this taboo spot.
And I love it.
Sweat dots my brow under my mask, and I want to rip it off. I want to rip his off, too; he must be dripping with sweat under that thick leather that encases his whole head.
He dips a finger into my pussy, and I clench around it; my body instinctively wanting and needing something of him to clutch. He pulls it out way too soon, but then he’s lubing up the tight ring of my back hole.
“Relax, siren.” My body listens, and I melt, and he pushes in gently. “I fucking love that no one has claimed you here.”
I moan as he pushes in a bit more, stretching me. It’s tight and not lubricated like my pussy, and I feel him withdraw, then feel a cool, liquid sensation coat the area and run down my skin.
Lube. Where the hell did he get lube? From inside his suit pocket? Or maybe there’s a goodie-trove under the sofa?
My questions never get asked because in the next breath, he’s gently working his finger back in, sliding in more easily with the lubrication. I’m astounded at how shockingly good it feels. My toes curl, my entire body tingles, and my back arches. He’s playing me like a finely tuned instrument.
And he’s going to make me sing.
While fingering my tight hole, he begins working my pussy again with his mouth. It doesn’t take long before I’m teetering on the edge again. Only this time, he lets me fall over.
I scream as my orgasm hits—maybe made more intense because he’s been denying me, or maybe it’s because of the anal stimulation.
Whatever the reason, I’m a starburst of pleasure and ecstasy.
And he’s ravenous. Unrelenting until he makes me come for a second time, and then I’m sobbing and squirming, trying in vain to get away from the overwhelming pleasure shocking through me.
I’m a dazed, orgasm-impaired mess, and he flips me over and pulls my dress up, balling it at my waist to expose me. Then he pulls up my hips, and my knees follow.
I push up onto my hands and turn to look over my shoulder. His wolf mask is back in place, covering his face and neck, and his big dick is out of his pants, ready to impale me.
“Condom,” I choke out in panic.
His head snaps up from looking at where he was just about to slam inside me.
“Condom,” I repeat. “Or I safe word.”
His blue eyes are fire. But he finally nods, reaches into his pocket, and removes a package. He rolls the condom down his thick, long length, then grips my hips.
“Watch the couple in the other room while I fuck you, siren.” His voice sounds different with the mask on compared to when his mouth was exposed, and I chalk it up to the thick leather. “While I own you.”
A feeling of contentment and rightness settles over me at his strange words. And I obey, turning to face the couple in the next room, where he’s fucking her from behind as she writhes and cries in pleasure.
My wolf takes me then.
He doesn’t push in slowly, allowing me to adjust to his size; no, he slams into me. Violently. Possessively.
His fingers dig into my hips as he thrusts, again and again.
I try to watch the other couple, but my vision is hazy, and the only thing I can concentrate on is how unbelievably good it feels to have my wolf filling me.
Like earlier, where he denied me my orgasm, he does so repeatedly for us both. I’m sweating and begging and finally realize that the couple in the other room is now gone.
“Please,” I beg over and over, like a chant. It’s not for him to put me out of misery; it’s for him to let me fly, unrestrained and free.
He lets go of my hips, and one hand comes around to my front. He pushes two fingers inside me along with his thick length, and his thumb presses and rubs on my clit. He works his other hand between our bodies, somehow not missing a beat with his mad thrusts, and pushes a finger into my ass.
I instantly seize. I can’t breathe. I can’t see. I can’t move.
Then I’m a fireball come to life, and all I am is the pleasure he’s unleashed.
I feel him thicken and jerk within me. Then the sounds of his grunts and groans of ecstasy almost make me come again.
I collapse, boneless, onto the sofa, making him pull out of me in the process. His hand is warm and gentle on my ass as he caresses it. Then I hear him stand, remove the condom, and go dispose of it.
Reality crashes back in as my lust and pleasure subside. My cheeks heat at what we just did: I got railed while watching others have sex.
When I sit up and pull my dress down to cover my bottom half, he’s there, kneeling in front of me. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” I go to stand, but he refuses to move. “I need to go.”
“So, running after sex is a common thing for you?”
“It’s not like you’re going to hold and cuddle me, now, is it?” There’s a bite to my tone. Like, I’m hurt that he won’t be doing that.
He goes to say something, but cuts himself off quickly. Then he starts again. “Aftercare is important. Let me take care of you and what you need.”
“I don’t need anything from you.” Tears try to fill my eyes, but I resist them. “This was just sex. And now I need to go. This can’t happen again.” I’m rambling, spouting quick words that I hadn’t consciously thought of saying.
But there’s something about the way he’s looking at me, like he sees me and what the mask hides, and I need to get out of here.
I need to run.
I push to my feet, regardless of him not getting the hint and being a gentleman to move out of the way. But why would I expect him to be a gentleman? I came here looking for the opposite. And he’s here, too, so it means he’s a frequenter of establishments like this.
Suddenly, I feel ill, thinking of the lovers he’s had. He’s an animal in bed. Powerful, all-consuming. Dangerous.
The need to get out of here and run is screaming within me.
I step toward the door, but he grips my arm. “Siren, let’s talk—”
“Lotus,” I blurt the safe word he gave me our first night together, and he jerks. “Lotus.” I pull my arm free and step back.
His big hands close into fists. “You don’t get to safe word because you don’t want to talk.”
My chin lifts in defiance. “I can safe word whenever the hell I want.”
Pushing past him, I almost make it to the door. Almost.
He pins me to the wall with his large, strong body. When I look up, I expect to see angry eyes glaring at me. Instead, I see understanding.
He cups my chin, keeping my face tilted up so I’m looking at him. “You’re scared. My tattoos…and them revealing who I am,” he guesses.
I swallow and slowly nod. “I don’t want to be touched by that world.”
Something passes through his eyes before it vanishes. “You have experience with that world? Have connections to someone in it?”
“It’s in my past.” I glance away from his searing eyes that see too much. He tightens his hold on me, silently ordering me to look at him. Which, of course, I do.
He steps closer, and my eyes widen at the feel of his hard length pressing into my stomach. “I’m your future.”
A whole-body shiver runs through me. “We don’t have a future.” But that feels like the world’s biggest lie. “This is just sex.”
He presses harder into me, and my pussy thrums back to life. “You’re a little liar, siren. Your body is betraying you.”
“It’s just sex,” I protest again, weaker.
“And what wondrous sex it is.”
He steps back from me, and I nearly fall into him, chasing after his touch, before I catch myself. “You’ll have no other partner than me.”
“What?”
My brain is struggling to catch up. How the hell had we gotten to the “exclusive” clause of our relationship? But this isn’t a relationship; it is just sex.
Mind-blowing sex.
Primal, carnal, dirty sex.
However, the thought of anyone else touching me—in this club or outside its walls—is all kinds of wrong. But I’m not telling him that, because that would only fuel his possessive and smug ego.
“There will be no other man or woman who touches, licks, sucks, or fucks you,” he orders. “None that you touch, lick, suck, or fuck either. And no one gets to see you.”
Well, I guess he’s possessive and thorough.
I wish I could see his face right now, mainly so I could slap off the smug smirk that I know is on it.
But I see an out—not that I want one, but still. If I’m unmasked, he won’t know it’s me if I’m breaking his rules.
He tilts his head. “I’ll know it’s you, siren, even without your mask.”
So he’s a mind reader now, too.
“I’ll always know it’s you.” His eyes rake over my body. My dress is back to hiding all my lady bits, but I feel naked and exposed. “And I’ll know if you have anyone at your hotel.”
Alarm jolts through me.
How does he know I’m staying at a hotel? Did he follow me the other night when I ran from here?
His hands close, like he’s unhappy that he revealed that little tidbit of information. But he presses on. “And I want to fuck you bare.”
“No.” My answer is immediate and firm.
“I’ll provide you with test results showing that I’m clean.”
“It’s still a hard pass.”
“Why?”
“You don’t get to ask that.” My voice trembles slightly.
I need to get out of this room and away from him. Not because I’m afraid of him, even though I should be after he revealed he knows I’m staying at a hotel, but because I’m deeply unnerved.
Deeply unnerved by my body’s response to him, how I want to submit still and let him do whatever he wants, and because it continues to feel like he sees right through my mask and knows who I am.
Because if he did follow me to my hotel, then he might actually know who I am. Although, on the hotel reservation, I’m Kathryn Wentzell, and she has no ties to Leeva Malone.
His tall, strong body relaxes, and he gently cups my chin. “I’ll see you here tomorrow night.”
“Tomorrow night doesn’t work for me.”
“Don’t lie to me, siren. Now, be a good girl and go home to rest up. Because tomorrow night, you ride the Sybian Saddle.”
Oh, sweet lord.
“I need…” I swallow the lust that washes over me. “I need my panties.”
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out my lace thong.
However, instead of handing them over, he lifts them to his masked face and holds them under the wolf’s nose and inhales deeply.
Then he re-pockets them. “Go, siren, before I change my mind about letting you rest, and instead fuck your ass like the dirty girl you are.”
That’s all I need to bolt out of the room. Although my body and pussy are most definitely protesting, demanding that I stay.