CHAPTER SIXTEEN #2
She hesitates for only a beat—one filled by the ostentatious vocalists onstage and the provocative lilt of the accompanying piano—but then she shimmies toward me, gathers the fabric of her long dress, and straddles my legs.
My heart thrums against my sternum. She makes me feel like I’m a teenager, being seduced by the only girl I’ve ever noticed.
I curl my fingers around her neck, careful not to upset her wig, and sweep my thumb over her battering pulse point while my other hand travels up her thigh. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”
She hooks her arms around my shoulders, pressing her chest to mine and grinding her pussy ever so slightly against my hard dick. “You’ve got a thing for redheads, huh?”
“I’ve got a thing for you, Nightmare. Silver, red, brown, neon green—doesn’t matter.”
Even with the mask on, an expression of irritation plainly veils her face. I’m not sure what to make of it.
She rocks her hips, gauging my reaction and smiling victoriously when a groan slips out of me. “You owe me an orgasm, a mind-blowing one. But you also owe me the truth.”
This woman is trouble. She’s far too aware of the power she holds over me. That needs to be rectified.
“That’s why you didn’t answer my question this morning.
I knew it was only a matter of time before you requested the orgasm.
” I waggle my brows, which has hers furrowing as my hand wanders from her thigh, beneath her dress, to find her plump ass exposed beyond her thong.
“You can have both. You come for me here, in this booth, and I’ll answer your questions. ”
Her mouth pops open, but she’s more amused than appalled. “You’re going to fuck me in the cabaret club, make me forget this god-awful day with jazz music, your pierced cock, and the danger of getting caught lurking in the shadows?”
My dick jerks in my pants. She’s not opposed to that scenario. In another circumstance, maybe I’d jump on it, but the ease of that would never fully satisfy Tessa. She craves the challenge. And I yearn to make her work for it.
“Something like that, but no fucking. Yet.” Gliding my finger from her ass to the thin strip of silk covering her pussy, I tease her through the wet material, reveling in how her body is already responding to me.
“You’ll get to come. You’ll loosen up. You’ll forgive me and get your answers.
” My lips brush hers, my tongue peeking out with a taunt for her to chase me, but as she does, I draw back to finish my demand.
“And then you’ll spend the night in the penthouse with me. ”
She straightens with a sharp intake of air. “Mercy said you never take guests up there.”
A smirk that will no doubt annoy her plays on my lips. “You been asking my sister-in-law about me, baby girl?”
“No.” She bucks her hips forward, successfully disarming me with a brutal dry hump. “We discussed how it was working to raise Remy in the penthouse, and she told me none of you take women back there.”
“That’s true,” I admit, aware that anyone else would be pleased with that answer, but Tessa appears enraged.
“Then …”
She might not want me in her space, but I need her mark on mine.
I want my sheets to smell like the sea and my pillow to be decorated with silver strands.
Because I’ve officially gone mad over this girl.
But I don’t fucking care. Sanity is overrated.
With her in my arms like this, it feels right. I can’t confess that though.
Time to play dirty.
Bypassing that sopping strip of silk, I plunge two fingers inside her from behind, my thumb applying pressure to her other hole.
Her head falls back, her spine arching, forcing her tits to smash into me with a plea.
Who am I to deny? Cradling one in my hand, I knead it while sprinkling kisses down the column of her throat and eventually biting her pebbled nipple through her dress.
She’s pierced. I assumed she would be, but experiencing it is even more riveting than what I imagined.
“You’re perfect and so fucking wet, Tess. All it took was picturing my cock inside you in front of a room full of people.”
She purrs before she snaps upright to lock her eyes with mine. The shadows from the stage lights and the table lamp capering on her face tell a salacious tale, but she’s speechless or awaiting my explanation about the penthouse demand.
I kiss her jaw, drawing out more moans from her. “I’m overdue on those mind-blowing orgasms, so I intend to spend the next eighteen or nineteen hours showering you with them.”
She swallows, her throat working overtime on the simple act, her mind obviously hazy. “That’s not happening.”
“You don’t want to come?” I ask as my fingers thrust more vigorously, and she moves in a rhythm that will help her reach her peak.
“I’m not sleeping over … in the penthouse … as your guest.” She bites her lip, her lashes fluttering, body trembling. “It’s too much.”
“It’s private,” I argue, continuing my cadence and pushing on her lower back to add friction to her clit, giving her nearly everything she craves. Nearly. “No employees will spot us. My room is upstairs, so my family won’t be an issue. I’ll play music, and you can scream until you lose your voice.”
“Maddox, I …” The tone of her delivery is gravel and unquenched thirst.
I have just the thing.
“Take what you need, baby. You’re already making a damn mess all over my hand and pants.
” I remove my fingers from her, swiping her arousal across the seam of her lips, and her tongue darts out to lick them clean, like the naughty temptress she is, before I return them to her heat.
“There’s no sense in fighting this. You suggested La Lune Noire, and I’m not … ”
Understanding dawns on her. “You don’t have to make this anything special. I just want to forget.”
“You’ll forget. I promise.” Bending into her, I capture her lips, humming in intoxication from her sweet taste mingling with the remnants of the liquor.
She gives back every nip and kiss and lick I offer, moaning in response, until I ease the pace of my fingers and withdraw my mouth from hers.
“Don’t be angry because I want to remember every second of you falling apart for me. Every taste, smell, touch, and sound.”
“I’m not staying all night,” she pants.
“Okay.” I keep my eyes latched to hers and sink my teeth into her lower lip. “I’ll drive you home when we’re done.”
A heavy breath rushes out of her. She didn’t expect me to concede.
“And you’ll tell me everything?”
“Yes. After you come.” I pull my butterfly knife out of my pocket and flick it open with the telltale click-clack-rattle. “But, Tess?”
“Yeah?” she rasps, clocking the glint of the balisong before I sneak it around her back, beneath her dress.
“You can keep putting up those walls, but that won’t deter me. I’ll keep tearing through them.” Steering the blade up to the junction of the strings connecting her thong on her lower back, I slice the fabric—careful not to ruin her dress—flip the knife closed, and rip the panties off.
She gasps, those ardent blues prancing all over me, eager to see my next move.
“One barrier down,” I gloat, scrunching the pair and bringing them to my mouth to suck her juices off them. A growl rips from my lungs. “You taste divine. I’ve been dreaming about what ecstasy looks like on you. I need to see it.”
I tuck both the balisong and her panties in my pocket, exchanging them for my Karambit knife, nearly identical to the one I gave her.
When I raise the curved blade in front of her line of vision, I heed the second she sees where this is headed, and I memorize that voracious slant of her features.
Everything with Tessa is more thrilling than my mind could fathom.
Lifting her up with one arm, I stab the knife into the velvet booth between my legs, savoring the throaty wheeze that puffs out of her. I lower her until she’s braced with her knees outside of my thighs and the finger ring at the tip of the handle prods her wet opening.
My girl likes control, so I give her a choice.
“If you don’t want me to spread you out on this table and feast on your delectable cunt for anyone to see, start moving and show me what that recreational use you mentioned entails.”
She dithers, suspended above the handle with a decision to view it as either a weapon or a toy.
It’s an apt parallel to the girl in my arms and her inner battle, her strong will trying to claw through her desperate need to let go.
Ultimately, her lust triumphs. She drops down and swivels her hips.
A shuddering breath tumbles from her with a whimper, and she digs her nails into my shoulders as she moves.
Angling forward, she presses against me, bringing the knife with her. The curve of the handle is aimed at me, so it must be hitting right at her G-spot, and her clit is rubbing against my throbbing dick.
“That’s it, baby.” I plunge my finger inside her ass, matching her rhythm, and she eagerly takes it. “Fuck, Tess. You’re the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.”
My balls tighten, hunger snaking through my abs and spine. It’s going to require superhuman strength not to come right here with her grinding into me like this and her face already painted in unadulterated rapture.
Her eyes start to close, so I clutch her chin with my free hand.
“Eyes on me, Nightmare. This day, those sounds, that about-to-tip glow on your face—all mine.”
In the next second, I sense her escalating, climbing rapidly to the summit.
She sinks down further, her hushed purrs accelerating with her rapid breaths.
And the cabaret—with its eccentric singers and up-tempo piano, flickering candles and red stage lights, prestigious guests and Noire nostalgia—fades, becoming the backdrop for what I already know is the greatest moment of my life.
She picks up her pace, her mouth agape, her limbs shaking. “I’m gonna …”
“That’s my good girl.” I cup her face, sweeping my thumb across her cheekbone, just below her mask, and watch her unravel before my eyes. “I’ve got you, Tess. Fuck that knife, the same way you’ll be strangling my cock later.”
Her ass clenches, throttling my finger. Tremors rocket through her. And the most erotic whimper I’ve ever heard washes over me, far outshining the crescendo of the cabaret singers.
“Shh,” I warn, though no one else can hear her beyond the show. “You’re a fucking fantasy.” I palm the back of her head and crash my mouth into hers, devouring her sounds as she adopts a slower pace and floats down from her high.
She curls herself around me when she’s satiated, and I remove my finger from her ass to simply hold her.
She nestles her face against my neck as my arms engulf her like armor.
We stay that way for several minutes while her breathing evens out, her body relaxing into mine, my knife still buried to the hilt within her.
“Tell me,” she whispers.
Since that was the deal, I move my lips to her ear and rub my hand up and down her back. “You took out the wrong guy, baby. I’m not giving you names here. I promise I’ll fix it. I’ll keep you safe, but I can’t loosen the reins on you.”
“So, someone knows that I … what about my—”
“No.” I pull my chin back so she can see my face. “No one will ever know what really happened. I’m handling it. I need you to trust me.”
“That’s hard for me.” Something about the way she rasps that feels like she’s unveiling one of her deepest secrets.
“I know.” Hoisting her off the knife, I pluck it out of the booth before lowering her back to my lap and sucking the coated handle clean with a groan, never taking my eyes off her. “You came. I confessed. So, what now?”
I return the Karambit to its sheath, tucked inside my waistband, and await her response.
She straightens, but makes no move to get off my lap.
Still, her reservations are evident in her rigid posture.
“This was … amazing. I don’t know the last time I came like that.
” She peers around at the customers and staff, oblivious to us because they’re observing the show.
“Certainly not like … this or with … but we can’t be … ”
Ahh. She’s determined to keep me at arm’s length.
And if I’ve learned anything about Tessa, it’s that when someone pushes her, she pushes back.
So, I don’t tell her that I have a gut feeling we’re inevitable whether she gives me tonight or not.
Or that once I’m inside her, my dick will be the last one she ever comes on. All that will do is send her running.
Instead, I become the single-focused man she craves right now.
“I don’t need your promises or thoughts on the future.
I don’t even need your forgiveness. I want you in my bed, falling apart, like you just did.
All. Night. Long. I want your sweet Pixy-Stix-flavored cum coating my tongue and your sopping pussy stretched around my cock.
We can worry about everything else tomorrow, when the aching reminder of where I belong is haunting you. ”
She stares at me as the jazz music picks up around us and the dancers assemble themselves into a jubilant kickline. The hint of a crooked smile coasts up one of her cheeks. “I can’t resist a good haunting, Drac.”