Chapter 37
Chapter
Thirty-Seven
Lizette
I don’t recognize myself when I catch a glimpse in the dark sex club’s mirrored walls. It’s over the top sensuality in the body of a sexy, wanton stranger, and I hate the three alphas.
Just like I want more of what Dante and Reaper did in the back of the car.
Dante pulls me to him, a hand wrapping around my thigh, as Reaper orders drinks. Dante glances lazily around and then kisses me as his fingers roam up, under my skirt.
I’m quivering, on the brink of coming in front of all these people. Just from the thought of what he might do, and the way I’m at his mercy to be degraded and exalted, to be the pleasure bringer. The receiver, whether I say I want it or not.
And then he actually touches me, a finger that slides along the crease where my inner thigh stops near my pussy lips.
My heart thumps and he pulls back and smiles a dirty, sleazy smile, like he can feel that thump, and I know he can feel the new layer of wetness, of need. I shift, meaning to move away because I know I should, but instead I go to him, anxious for more.
“Angel, you’re such a fucking filthy girl under the innocence, aren’t you?” He strokes that spot, leans in. “Admit it, you got hot with two alphas fighting over your little cunt.”
“No.”
“Yes.” The gloat’s almost too much and anger surges, loathing too, mixing with the lust. And he laughs. “Hate me, Angel, but you want me to fuck you here and now, don’t you?”
I want to say no again, I do, but it refuses to come.
He nudges the hair from the wig away from my ear and presses his magic mouth against it. “You want it, I know. But, Liz, when you sing, tell me, do you want those men who pant and watch your every move, all with hard and aching dicks in their pants to touch you? Have you? Taste you?”
I turn my head, and our lips are almost touching, and I’m infused with him. His smell, his presence, his heat. “And if I do?”
“You don’t.”
“I fantasize about them all.”
His growl runs through my veins, and I shiver with desire, wanting to rub up against him. We might be alone in here except for Reaper, because no one else exists. Not one person other than them.
“Thank fuck your honest streak appeals because lying isn’t your forte. There are exactly three men you want and two of them are in this room. And you want me no matter how often you wish you didn’t.”
Then he kisses me again.
I expect the onslaught but this time it’s light, slow, the kind of kiss designed to slay with stealth. When he lifts his head, his hand’s moving again.
Dante goes slow, parting my folds, running his fingers along my inner lips down to my ass and then up to my clit.
There’s a part of me that’s screaming, wanting to know if everyone can see, and another part that doesn’t care, that likes this wild exhibitionism.
And as he slowly begins to tease by pushing his finger in and out, deeper and deeper each time, and he looks past me, right as Reaper presses against me and his mouth finds mine.
It’s heaven.
Hell.
Wild.
Perfection.
I’m already melting, and I lose form completely under the administrations of Reaper’s magic tongue. I’m falling apart, coming together, falling apart, and each time it’s different, like when I rebuild, another piece of me is exposed for their pleasure.
Reaper thumbs my mouth open and strokes in with his tongue and every part of me wants to stretch in opposite directions all at once. I want to reach up and meld with him, and also sink down on Dante’s hand, rocking until I come.
“Liz,” Reaper says, breaking the kiss, “I have to make some rounds. Stay with Dante.”
And with that, he’s gone and I’m bereft.
Then Dante pulls me down, on his hand and on his lap. He’s thrumming my clit, pounding his fingers into me, and I roll back into him. “Don’t come, Angel. Don’t. Fight it. I’m going to take you to the edge and then I’m stopping. I’ll do it a few times.”
“And then I can come?” I’m panting.
He keeps the rhythm and I’m melting into pools of hot desire, of need, my body aching for the thing he’s telling me to deny myself.
“I don’t know,” he murmurs, picking up his drink and feeding some to me. “Can you?”
It’s getting hard to focus. And I’m trying to remember this is for show. But I keep losing track of that, the battle to not come is taking over fast .
Dante puts down his drink and skims a hand down over me, and cool air touches my upper thighs, and around my open pussy.
Oh hell, he’s lifted my skirt and everyone can see what he’s doing and I almost come. His fingers keep up that rhythm in me.
I need to come. It’s not a want anymore, it’s a need. I’m tingling, aching, so hot and liquid that I can feel the fever pitch rise higher, unspooling my thoughts until I’m just sensations.
“Liz? Angel? Focus, look around. Anyone you see?”
I’m breathing fast, heavy. “I…I can’t.”
He stops. I look down; the top of his hand keeps moving, but he’s pulled his fingers out, and I nearly scream in frustration. “Angel, do it.”
I blink, trying to focus and pretend he’s still got me on that brink. I’m there, but it’s the side of horrible frustration, the one that tells me I’m not coming, and I hide that response as I loll my head and see a man, glaring. He’s half focused on my pussy, the rest is on Dante. And it’s hate I see.
I know who it is.
He recognizes me, too.
Somehow, I shimmy down my skirt, pull free of Dante, and turn. I flip the script and kiss him hard. And then hands on his face as his grips my ass, I say, “In the far corner, past the stage with the dancer, the corner near the bathrooms. Jake.”
He goes stiff, and I’m holding him down. Not that I’m that strong, but the pressure I can exude is enough to stop him storming off and spilling blood.
I’m relieved when familiar hands catch my hips.
“That asshole is here.” Reapers fingers bite into me. “We can’t kill him, Dante.”
“Fuck,” Dante says.
The asshole starts our way. He could cause trouble and before anyone can do anything, I whisper, “I can fix this. ”
“Nothing to fix. We ignore him,” Dante says in a way that says ignore him while he lays bleeding on the ground.
Reaper cuts him a look. “Lizette?”
One of the topless waitresses walks by and I grab her and ask the one thing I never have before.
“Hi,” I say, “Can we speak to the manager? I want to know if I can sing.”
The lights are too bright and I’m glad but also frightened because they’re slightly lower at Pandora’s.
The crowd murmurs, restless, annoyed, probably because they aren’t getting to see the girl get naked and writhe up here. And I’m not taking anything off.
But the name Unholy Trinity, the names Dante and Reaper, have clout. And…I did my job because the immediate crowd of important management around us has effectively cut Jake off from coming near.
And me up here? He can’t touch me.
They have a small band that plays when the girls strip and dance and tease with their burlesque.
I feel so big and exposed, so tiny and weak at the same time. They know the song I want to sing. It’s an old sexy song, slowed, all about fever. One dad used to play on his phone when he wanted to liven the place, so I know it.
More importantly, it fits here.
I clutch the microphone. “H-hi. I’m Persephone, on loan from Pandora’s. I’m going to sing.”
“Take it all off!” someone yells.
But I turn, nod at the band, and it starts. It would be about now at the club that I’d take off small pieces, and it’s always, always awkward.
This is awkward, just standing like a lump. But then the magic happens. The music seeps into every part of me. The notes of the double bass are the beats of my heart. When the words come, I am the song.
The words of love and sex and longing fill me, the room, and all I can pick up is Reaper and Dante’s scents. I imagine Knight’s aroma there, too.
I move with the words and rhythm, slinking down, off the stage, the spotlight moving with me, to slip along the front of the first tables, avoiding them until I reach my quarry.
Dante.
I sing, writhing down him and then I shift to my next, Reaper. I slip my arm up his chest to stroke his face, along the scars, then I release him, going back to the stage, Dante close, helping me up. There I sing until the song swells in the entire room and steals breath for itself.
When it’s done the music stops and there’s utter silence.
Not even a chair shifts. Not a whisper.
I lower the microphone and look out, my eyes used to the light a little more. Through the haloes of glare, I see Reaper and Dante, and all the men in the audience with their attention pinned to me, mine to use.
The room explodes into applause and Dante picks me up, taking me down and handing me to Reaper.
I can hear Dante’s low voice talking in the microphone. Then feedback hits and I look. The damned man literally dropped the mic.
Of course, another round of applause bursts free and I see Jake try to get across to us, but too many people are in the way as the girl comes back on to dance.
There are people, though, men, who are surrounding us. Wanting to meet me. Reaper stands, an arm around my front.
He’s enough to make them keep a distance.
Dante glares. “Fuck, Liz.”
“You can’t kill someone in here,” I say. “What was I meant to do? ”
“Let me kill the prick.”
“As I said,” Reaper says, “you can’t fucking kill him. Lizette was smart by singing, got us attention, but he can’t do a thing so don’t kill him.”
“Watch me.”
“Not going to help things,” Reaper mutters.
I clutch at Dante. “Please don’t…”
“Listen to your Angel. Besides, our room is ready.” Reaper downs the drink he’s still holding.
I look at them. “Room?”
“We can’t come here without going to a private room,” Dante says. “Lead the way, Reap.”
It’s a room of brass and dark reds. Velvets and cushions and a vast bed. I look around, insanely curious. Plus, it gives my body a moment or two to cool down.
There’s a couch and a table and some kind of weird bench. And a wall that’s got chains, leather straps, and ropes.
I stop, swallowing, moving closer to touch as I take in another wall with shelves. In it are whips and small cages, and feathers. More ropes. There are masks and balls with straps, claw things with straps, and paddles and?—
“If I’d know you really wanted in on this shit, Angel, I’d have taken you to the house. Or one of my play rooms I keep.” Dante unbuttons his vest and strips his coat.
“W-What?” I look at Reaper, then at him.
Dante grins. “Those things you’re currently touching are dildos and vibrators. New, for the room, if you’re wondering. We pay premium. The rest of those are…well, you get the paddles and whips. That’s a cock cage, and that…it’s a spider gag, to keep your pretty mouth open while we fuck it. The one next to it, it’s a ball gag so we can stop you scre aming if we decide to double team your ass or shove a giant dildo up you.”
I snatch my hand back.
Oh. God. I’m getting turned on.
He picks up something that looks like rubber pants in hot pink. “Piss pants? Your color, don’t you think, Angel?”
I almost scream and slam back into the toys, leaping away.
“You want the dildos, then?” He closes in. “Eager…”
“Leave her be, Dante,” Reaper says. “If you want to play with her, that’s not the way to do it. And this isn’t the time.”
“We’re using the room,” he says, turning from me, leaving me breathing hard and weak kneed. “We can’t go without using it, but just waiting it out won’t do the trick. There’s a look to just being fucked, and there are alphas out there who smell her. She has to be soaked in us.”
Reaper looks past Dante and comes up to me. He breathes me in and my heart goes haywire. “He’s right.”
He takes my shoulders and drops a kiss on my mouth. Then he lets me go and leads me to the bed, sitting me down. He stands as Dante strips down to his trousers.
My mouth goes dry. Last time I saw him shirtless, we were fucking and I registered the ink, but now…
I go to him, tracing the four horsemen tattoo that covers his broad shoulder and arm, spilling up from his back and onto his chest.
It’s intricate, as beautiful as the art on Reaper, but less violent and more exalted. He sits, motioning to Reaper. “Well?”
“I want to know why Ghost’s back,” Reaper says.
“We’ll ask when we find him.”
Reaper shoots him a hard look. “The trap to catch ghosts takes time.”
“Ghost.” Dante says. I just listen to them. “He’s not going to be here, is he?”
“I’m not sure why, but I know he’s been behind some of the threats and fires I’ve been putting out, and dealing with.” Reaper takes a breath. “I’m sure some of this has been done on behalf of the Council.”
Dante frowns. “Why? He’s got no love of the Council.”
“He’s got some kind of skin in the game.” Reaper pauses. “He’s been paying some, threatening pack members, and with the betas, their families.”
“He’s got backing.” Dante considers Reaper. “And he’s been here?”
“Often.”
“Anything?” Dante asks.
Reaper doesn’t say anything, but I feel the cogs in him turn. Finally he says, “Talk. Nothing more.”
“You know, Reap, I get it,” says Dante. “Tonight was about making noise and seeing what comes of it over the next few days. And killing that wannabe rapist is still a goal, I think. And Angel? Singing was a good idea. You control men with that voice.”
A smile brushes Dante’s mouth as he motions me to him, then like a god, he gestures for me to kneel. I know, in the back of my mind, I don’t have to, but I do it anyway, sitting between his thighs.
“Sing again,” he tells me.
“I don’t want to.”
“Too fucking bad. Turn on that magic for us. A private show.”
Reaper takes us in and moves closer.
I don’t know where it comes from but the song flows, sex and lust and need and love. That’s in there, too, hidden deep beneath the seeming purity of the words. As I sing, Dante takes my hands, puts one on Reaper’s cock, the other on his. I let their dicks fill my hands, the cloth nothing, their flesh so vital and warm, getting bigger and harder with each note.
When I’m done, Dante guides me in and kisses me. Reaper sinks to his knees. He peels off my hand and kisses it, and then he pulls me from Dante and his mouth claims mine in a wordless song as full as mine was.
When he’s done, he hands me to Dante, who watches me. He doesn’t speak.
He doesn’t have to.
I know exactly what he wants.
I know.
It’s like I’m mesmerized. He doesn’t need to say a thing to me. But I make him wait a few beats, humming a little to stop myself devouring both of them, and finally I can’t help it. Reaper stands back. Watching.
I rub my hand on Dante’s hard on, over his underwear, and I kiss along his hard length, trapped in the material.
It’s dirty. Erotic. Perfect.
I lean into Dante, pushing my top down, liking the pleased male light in his eyes, and then I unzip him, sucking his cock into my mouth.
“Oh, fuck, yes…” He hisses. I’m peering up, and he glances at Reaper. “How many people did you fucking kill?”
“None. Money, not violence. Ghost, spies, the Council, they’ll all know we were here with a mystery guest, one we use to pull in punters. We’ll hear something soon.” He pauses. “But fuck that. This is way more interesting. Go on, Liz. You look amazing like that. A new pagan goddess. Both of hell and heaven.”
“Fuck, you’re talkative when you’re horny, Reap.” Dante groans as I go deep on him, needing the taste of him in the back of my throat, and though the wig’s hot, I can feel the stroke of Reaper’s fingers, and I pull off Dante with a pop and take out Reaper’s tattooed cock.
Dante takes advantage, turning me so I’m in his lap, legs spread, and he dips into me, and he paints my ass with my slick juices.
I suck Reaper down so he’s in the back of my throat, mouth stretched about him as Dante eases inside me. He starts fucking me, the pull and push something I know now, and I bounce down on him, trying to get him deeper as I urge Reaper to fuck my face.
“Oh, fuck, is she tight. Get in there, Reap, take her cunt.” He pulls me off Reaper, and draws me back on him, holding me, my legs wide and back, his mouth at my ear. “We’re going to fuck you up the way you like. You’re a dirty, filthy girl, Angel. My kind of cunt. Perfect, pretty, willing.”
I’m shaking, back up to the explosion point, all nerve ends wild and insane and ready to soak themselves in pleasure.
Reaper’s still, his cock huge, erect, heavy, his gaze intent on me. My face, tits and then pussy.
Finally, he strokes his fingers through my wetness, lines up, and pushes in.
I scream, clinging to him. I’ve never been so full in my life, so perfectly violated and all I need to complete this is Knight. In my mouth.
I come. I can’t help it. I come and come, my body going haywire, bouncing on its own on them, squeezing them.
They start to move.
Dante rises so they can use me as their fuck toy, slamming me up and down on them in hard, violent strokes that set me off all over again. My brain’s melted, utter goo and I’m just a vessel for pleasure, theirs and mine.
Suddenly, I’m swept with another wild orgasm and as I fly, they do too, and we all come together.
Reaper isn’t done when they pull out and Dante sits.
He puts me on the bed and spreads my legs, eating me out, pushing me to another orgasm. I try to push him away. I’m done. I’m too sensitive, but he’s relentless and it turns from me writhing to get free to me pushing into him.
And someone, somewhere, is talking.
Dante.
“That’s it, Angel, let him make you fly, you pretty whore. Let him show you what you are. Perfect, filthy, mine to give. His to take. We’ll get others in. Knight. Roomfuls of men, all of who can fuck you senseless, help us ruin that perfect fucking pussy. And then I’ll kill every last motherfucker, let the room run red with their blood and the three of us? We’ll fuck you in it, anoint you…”
I come, shaking, my body undulating and wild with the soaring pleasure.
When we’re done, I’m gone.
I don’t know anything. Where I am, who I am.
I’m just a mass of satiated desire, shot full of electricity, and left twitching. Boneless.
Someone dresses me, soothes me and then I’m carried out, through darkness pulsating with light and sound and smells, and then there’s the bump and hum of the car and two sets of gentle hands on me.
When I come to my senses, I’m in Dante’s space. He’s got me wrapped in a blanket, feeding me water.
“You’re back, Angel. Too much?”
The wig’s gone, I note as I touch my head. And I’m in a big shirt. I look around, but it’s just me and Dante and…Knight?
“Where’s…Reaper?” My voice is thick, my tongue too big, and I’m sore and still needing.
They’re a drug.
“He had to chase some shit down for us. Go with Knight,” Dante says. “I don’t need you here.”
His words slap me, and I try to snap back, but by the time I sit up, he’s gone.
I stare at Knight, who scoops me up, kissing me. “He’s an ass.”
I cling to him, needing his sweet, soft solace—the velvet-lined domination.
He takes me to my room, and when he puts me down on my bed, I’m still weak, still fevered, and it takes me a moment to know why.
“Knight? ”
“Yeah?”
“I-Is Griffin your name? Your real name?”
He sits next to me on the bed and cups my cheek. “Yeah. But I’m more Knight now. I was going to tell you. It’s not really a secret, I just don’t use it. You can call me whatever you like.” He pauses. “If you stay.”
“You mean if he doesn’t kick me out?”
He comes in close, arms either side of me. “No, Liz, I mean you. Don’t think I don’t know you’ve been planning to run for a while. But the world can be us, for you.”
“How did you know?”
“I’ve been you, Liz.” He brushes his lips with mine. “Go to sleep.”
“No. I’m not…I’m restless, I’m not fulfilled.”
Knight goes still. “You’re not?”
“I had them, but I belong to you all. And tonight…I want to belong to all three. If you’ll have me.”
He grins. “Daddy says you bet your sweet little ass.”
Knight strips off and dives under the covers, so un-Daddy like it makes me giggle. He’s not being the Dom he is. He’s just being him and when he pushes into me, my legs up on his shoulders, he kisses me.
“Oh, fuck, Baby Doll, you’re fucking perfect.” He starts to thrust, and he kisses me, hard, and soon, I’m lost in him, in the magic he weaves, and I never, ever want to leave.
Ever.