Chapter 82 - Danica
Danica
Islip into the front seat of the Bentley Continental GT, the luxurious leather cradling my body like a lover's embrace. Rhyland, looking like a goddamn snack in his tuxedo, saunters over to the driver's side and slides in, the picture of masculine grace.
As he fires up the car, the engine purring to life like a satisfied jungle cat, I shift in my seat, acutely aware of the foreign object nestled between my thighs.
Oh, I know damn well what he's inserted inside me—another vibrator—silicone, egg-shaped, and currently pressing against all the right spots.
It's not uncomfortable, per se, but it's... different. A constant reminder of the delicious torture Rhyland has in store for me tonight.
As we pull away from the mansion, the city lights blurring past the windows, Rhyland glances over at me, his face barely illuminated by the soft glow of the dash lights. Even in the dim light, I can see the hunger in his eyes, the raw desire that simmers just beneath the surface.
"You look gorgeous, baby," his voice like velvet over gravel.
I preen under his praise, a flush of heat spreading across my skin. It's not just the words, but the way he says them—like I'm the most beautiful thing he's ever seen—like he can't quite believe I'm real.
And let's be honest, who can blame him? I'm a fucking vision in this dress, the fabric clinging to my curves like a lover's caress, the neckline plunging dangerously low, offering a tantalizing glimpse of the goods.
But it's more than just the dress. It's the way I feel in it—powerful, sexy, untouchable. I could walk into any room, own it, and bring kings to their knees with a smile.
"Thank you. You have good taste," I say with a smirk, trying to play it cool even as my heart races at the sight of him.
Rhyland nods, grabbing his phone from his pocket and pulling up an app, but then he gives me this look—you know, the one that promises all sorts of delicious trouble.
It's the naughty look he gets when he's about to play, and sure as shit, that little toy inside me starts softly buzzing, making me jerk in my seat like I've been electrocuted.
"How's that feel?" he asks, his voice all low and growly, like a predator stalking its prey.
Holy shit.
I can't let him do this to me before our damn date! I'll be a wet fucking mess before we even sit down for dinner at this rate. "Rhyland... S-stop," I plead, even as the vibrator works its magic on my inner walls, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through my body.
But does he listen? Of course not. He just ignores me, his eyes glued to his phone like he's checking his fucking email or something.
And then, because he's a sadistic bastard, the vibrations change.
It starts slow and steady, an irresistible rhythm that has me biting my lip to keep from moaning.
But just as I get used to it, the buzzing shifts into rapid-fire mode, quick and relentless, before easing back into that annoying, steady pulse.
I can't help it—I grab his arm, my nails digging into his skin as I let out an involuntary moan. It's too much, too good, and I'm already teetering on the edge of something dangerous and delicious.
"You're playing with fire, Norseman," I manage to gasp out, my voice breathy and strained. "Keep this up; I might just combust before we even reach the restaurant."
Rhyland chuckles, the sound dark and full of promise. "Nope. I won't let that happen. I know you, Dani—I know when you're at your fucking peak. This game has only started, baby."
And then, because he's a goddamn tease, he shuts off the vibrator, leaving me limp in my seat, frustration building until I'm ready to scream. I let out a growl, glaring at him with all the fury of a woman denied her orgasm. This edging shit is for the fucking birds—
"Are you kidding me with this edging bullshit, Rhyland?" I snap, my voice tight with pent-up need. "It's not cute, it's torture." Delicious, mind-blowing torture, but still. "You're going to kill me before this night is over, you sadistic ass."
Rhyland laughs, the sound rich and deep and infuriatingly sexy. "What have I told you about that bratty mouth, huh? Keep it up, and I might just have to put it to better use."
I clench my thighs together, my body throbbing with want at the promise in his words. Goddamnit, this man knows exactly how to push my buttons and wind me up until I'm ready to explode.
But two can play at this game.
Even if it kills me, I'm going to make this man work for every moan, every desperate plea that falls from my lips.
He wants to play? Fine. But he better be ready for the fight of his life.
After an hour of pure, unadulterated torture, we finally pull up to the restaurant. The entire ride, Rhyland's been flicking that fucking vibrator on and off like it's his toy, leaving me a writhing, cursing, moaning mess in the passenger seat.
So much for not making a sound—dammit!
I bitched, I begged, I threatened to cut his balls off if he didn't let me come, but did he listen? Hell no. He just sat there with that infuriating smirk on his face, looking sexy as hell—wanting to smack his face and kiss him at the same time.
This fucking vibrator is coming out, even if I have to perform a goddamn exorcism to get it done.
I should've taken it out before we even left the house, but no, I had to be a masochistic bitch and let him have his fun. Well, the joke's on me because now I'm stuck waddling around like a penguin with a sex toy shoved up my snatch.
Rhyland and his kinky shenanigans are going to be the death of me. Does he expect me to sit through an entire meal playing "How Many Ways Can I Make Dani Squirm?" Because let me tell you, at this rate, I'm about two appetizers away from bursting into flames right here in this swanky establishment.
I can just see the headlines now: "Local Woman Spontaneously Combusts in Five-Star Restaurant —Authorities Suspect Vampire Foul Play." Nope. Not happening. I refuse to become a cautionary tale about the dangers of supernatural foreplay in public places.
But even as I'm cursing his name, I can't help the thrill of excitement that runs through me. Because as much as I hate to admit it, I love it when he gets like this—All dominant and controlling, pushing me to the brink of insanity with his teasing touches and wicked words.
It's a dangerous game we play, but damn if it isn't the most fun I've ever had.
"I'll be right back," I tell Rhyland as we settle into our seats at the table, my voice too high-pitched to be casual.
He smiles at me, that sexy, panty-dropping smile of his, catching a glimpse of fang. The sight of it sends a jolt to my clit, and I have to fight the urge to climb into his lap and ride him right here in the middle of the restaurant.
I flag down a passing waiter and ask where the ladies' room is, trying to keep my voice steady even as my legs tremble with each step. As soon as I'm inside, I make a beeline for the nearest stall, locking the door behind me with shaking hands.
I yank up my dress, ready to perform an emergency eviction on this silicone squatter, but my lady parts have apparently formed their own security detail. They're locked down tighter than a Tupperware container at a potluck, and this vibrator just got VIP status.
It seems my vajayjay has grown quite attached to its new silicone BFF. I'm talking a level of clenching that would make even the most seasoned Kegel enthusiast weep with envy.
Fantastic. Just freaking great. I'm stuck in a fancy restaurant bathroom, playing tug-of-war with my own vagina. This is not how I pictured my evening going.
I try to channel my inner zen master. "Breathe, Dani. Relax. It's just a sex toy, not the sword in the stone. You've got this." My pep talk is about as effective as a chocolate teapot.
Of course, that's when Rhyland decides to invade my head like an unwanted telemarketer. "Problems?" I can hear the smirk in his mental voice.
"Nope," I fire back, shooing him out of my brain. His dark chuckle echoes in my mind before he vanishes, leaving me alone with my uncooperative clam-clenching cooch.
I let out a breath, close my eyes, and relax; I gently pull until the vibrator slides out of me with a wet pop. I can't help the little moan that escapes me at the sensation, my body clenching around the sudden emptiness.
I'm half tempted to throw myself a little one-woman party right here and now—a quick DIY orgasm and a big 'screw you' to Rhyland. But just as I embark on my solo adventure, the bathroom door swings open.
Great timing, random stranger. I roll my eyes and yank open the stall door, ready to make my grand exit.
I head for the sink, washing off the toy quickly and efficiently before tucking it away in my purse. I duck back into the stall to clean myself up as best I can, cursing under my breath at the wet mess Rhyland's left me in.
I adjust my dress, ensuring everything is in place before returning to face the music. Rhyland's waiting for me at the table, looking like sin incarnate in his tailored suit and devilish smile.
"Everything okay, baby?" his voice all innocent concern even as his eyes sparkle with mischief.
"Just peachy," I reply, my smile sharp enough to cut glass.
Rhyland chuckles, a dark, dangerous sound that makes me shiver. "For disobeying me and doing exactly what I told you not to do, there will be consequences, Angel."
I swallow hard, my mouth suddenly dry. He can't be serious, can he? What consequences could he possibly give me that he hasn't already at this point—
One look at Rhyland's face tells me he's not fucking around. His blue eyes are blazing with a fierce intensity, the kind that says he means business. And I know from experience that when it comes to these games, Rhyland takes this shit as seriously as a heart attack.