Chapter 5
Diversion
Rakan
The Obsidian Lounge has been my haunt for longer than I can remember. Night after night, I come here, a ritual Sigurd and I forged from a shared whim.
Never in all these years has a song moved me. Never has a dance threatened to crack my composure.
But when I pull Iris’s small body against mine, everything changes. “You smell so good,” I whisper, burying my nose in her hair.
She doesn’t reply, but I don’t need her to. As the song shifts into something more sensual, she curls her body closer to mine. It feels like the most natural thing in the world. As natural as wishing is to humans.
We Djinn don’t make wishes. Not for ourselves, and not often. But if we did, I’d probably wish to stay in this moment forever.
I slide my hand lower, down over the slit at her hip. “Tell me to stop, Iris,” I murmur, pausing just over the edge of the dress. “Because if you don’t… I’ll make my own guesses.”
She doesn’t say a word. Instead, she lets out a small gasp, an answer that needs no language. I slide my hand beneath the silk and along the inside of her thigh.
Three thousand years of granting wishes have taught me to recognize want in all its forms. I’ve heard it pleaded, whispered, screamed, demanded.
I’ve heard it reduced to begging and escalated into fury.
Iris’s want is different. Silent, in some ways.
She isn’t asking at all. Instead, she is letting me find out.
And what I find is that she is drenched. Underneath her dress, her panties are soaked in her juices. The realization goes straight to my groin, an aching throb I would prefer not to examine on a crowded dance floor.
“How long, Iris?” I ask, and the question comes out harsher than I’d like. “How long have you been wanting this?”
The smoke around us thickens on its own, and I let it happen. I need a moment to focus before I have to look at her again.
“Don’t ask me that here, Rakan,” she replies, her voice low and unsteady. “Take me somewhere I can answer you properly.”
I don’t need to be told twice. I hold her even closer and wrap the smoke around us both.
A sudden, breathless vacuum swallows the neon haze of the club. The pounding bass vanishes, replaced by the heavy silence of the VIP booths above the club. Everywhere we look, there is only black leather, strong incense, and extravagant gold.
Iris stumbles as the displacement hits her. I catch her waist before her knees buckle, keeping her from falling over. It’s not unusual for this method of transportation to leave mortals confused. But in a minute, it won’t matter.
She just stares up at me, her chest heaving. “Rakan… I need you to—”
Whatever she was about to say is obliterated when my mouth crashes down on hers. I can’t wait any longer. Not for words, not for anything except her taste.
Iris groans, her mouth opening wide to take the sweep of my tongue. She kisses like she’s starving, the same way I am. Her teeth click against mine in a frantic, uncoordinated rhythm that strips away the last of my patience.
Her hands slide up my chest, gripping the lapels of my jacket. The bite of her fingernails digs right through the bespoke wool. They are short and blunt. Trimmed flat for pulling espresso shots and wiping down counters. It shouldn’t be as sexy as it is.
Every woman who has touched me in the last five centuries has had finely manicured fingernails or polished claws. Yet, the desperate grip of these practical hands feels like the most devastating thing to ever lay claim to me.
My fingers find the thin straps of her plum dress. The silk slides off her shoulders, pooling uselessly around her waist to leave her bare. The chilled air of the room hits her skin, and a shiver runs through her small frame.
“Cold?” I ask. My thumb traces the fragile slope of her collarbone.
“Not when you’re this close,” she murmurs against my lips.
She isn’t wearing a bra, and I feel myself lose my mind a little.
Her breasts are pale and full, scattered with an irregular dusting of faint freckles.
Human socialites spend fortunes and endure endless spells trying to erase these mundane little imperfections.
To me, they look like a map. A flawless constellation I suddenly want to spend the next century memorizing.
Lowering my head, I capture her mouth for another wet kiss. My lips trail down her jaw, lingering over the frantic pulse beating at her throat. When my mouth finally closes over one hard, freckled peak, a sharp gasp echoes off the walls.
My teeth scrape lightly over the swollen bud. Her hands immediately abandon my lapels, tangling tight in my hair. It shouldn’t be possible, but I feel the touch all the way into my horns.
“Rakan,” she whimpers, arching her spine to press herself deeper into my mouth.
“Tell me what you want,” I rumble against her wet skin, my hands spanning the soft flare of her waist.
“Everything.” Her fingers tighten painfully against my scalp. “Stop dragging this out.”
She isn’t asking for a wish. She expects me to deliver, and my cock strains against my zipper, responding to her demand.
She’s wearing only scraps of black lace now, the panties that shattered my composure on the dance floor. But even those feel like an insult.
I guide her to the nearby settee and set her down. “You are used to rushing through your days, Iris,” I murmur, dropping to my knees in front of her. “But I intend to take my time.”
I don’t bother taking her panties off like a mortal. The lace simply disappears between my fingertips, utterly obliterated. Iris jerks but doesn’t protest.
I gently press her knees apart, exposing her delicious pussy to my greedy gaze.
Her glistening folds make my mouth water, and the trembling skin of her inner thighs feels softer than the silk I discarded on the floor.
Has any mortal ever looked this perfect under the lights of a club lounge? Or anywhere, for that matter?
“Rakan,” she whimpers. “Don’t look at me like that.”
“Like what?” I ask, unable to keep the growl from my voice. “Like you are the only thing in this world that matters?”
Before she can answer, I lean down and press my mouth to her core. Her taste explodes on my tongue, rich and intoxicating, more potent than any drug. I growl against her pussy, and a jagged scream tears through the room.
It’s a simple, carnal sound, but it tugs at me on a visceral level. I’m trapped in her pleasure, in her desire, and I don’t want to escape.
I sweep my tongue over her folds and then capture the hard, swollen bud of her clit.
Her hips jerk upward, chasing the friction of my mouth.
I lock my hands around her hips to anchor her against the settee.
When I suck the sensitive pearl between my lips, the amber fire beneath my skin flares out of control.
“Please,” she begs, her short fingernails scraping frantically against the curve of my horns. “Please, it’s too much.”
It’s not. Not nearly enough, not for her. But I refuse to pull my mouth away long enough to tell her that.
I slide two thick fingers deep inside her tight, stretching heat. She clamps around them instantly, a frantic vise that draws a feral groan from my throat. I feed on her juices like a starving animal, my thumb circling her clit as I drive them deeper.
She rides my hand, writhing against the leather, her entire body demanding more.
I let my smoke curl over her, and the final thread of her control snaps.
Her entire body goes rigid, a violent spasm rocking through her.
As she cries out, her internal walls tighten around my soaked fingers.
I drink down all of her juices with greed as she falls apart against my mouth.
When the final aftershocks fade, I stand to my full height and tear at the fastenings of my trousers.
My cock springs free, massive and rigid.
I’ve been as hard as a rock since I saw her walk into the club.
If I don’t bury my dick inside her within the next minute, I’m liable to lose control entirely.
My dick throbs erratically, leaking scorching drops of precum that make the air between us visibly shimmer.
Iris blinks, her dazed eyes raking over my torso, down to my groin.
Her breath catches, but she doesn’t back down.
“You realize that thing is a logistical nightmare. There’s no way it’ll fit. ”
A rough laugh tears out of my throat. Even now, undone and shivering on a couch, she’s still the defiant woman who has me under her spell. “I assure you, Iris,” I murmur, “the logistics are entirely my problem. And it’ll fit, because you were made for me.”
I climb next to her on the couch and spread her legs wider, pushing them as high as they go. Iris drops her head hard against the leather, staring up at the ceiling like a woman in a dream.
I guide the blunt head of my cock to her slick entrance and push. Her dripping heat yields to me so easily, her body stretching to accommodate me. Iris cries out and arches back against me, trying to impale herself on my shaft.
But for all my certainty, I don’t want to risk harming her. I brace my hands firmly against her hips, holding her in place. “Easy, Iris. I’ll give you what you need.”
“Promises, promises,” she hisses under her breath. “You—”
I thrust forward, burying my entire length deep inside her in one devastating glide. Iris’s words die in her throat. Instinctively, her pussy tightens around my dick, and the almost brutal sensation threatens to snap my composure right then and there. I let out a feral snarl and increase the pace.
By now, the friction has become a living, breathing thing. My thrusts grow shorter, harder, more desperate. Iris is a storm of thrashing limbs, her pale legs locking around my waist to pull me deeper.
I slam into her with almost bruising force, my magic a raging storm beneath my skin. Something terrifying is building between us, and I pursue it, a slave to the sensation.
I reach down between her legs and find the point of our union. There’s something so sinful about feeling the way her pussy stretches around my dick like this. It’s not dirty—it never could be—but it feels like a secret. Like something only she and I could ever share.
She feels it too, because how could she not? As I rub my thumb over her clit, her body tightens around my shaft. “Rakan!” she screams, her spine going rigid.
A series of crushing waves ripples over me as she finds her peak, impaled on my dick.
Lost in her pleasure, she drags me along with her.
I spill myself deep inside her tight core, shaking as I pump every drop of my release into her.
The sheer force of the orgasm hollows me out.
Slowly, the raging amber fire beneath my skin begins to bleed down into a low thrum.
I don’t remember feeling exhausted any time this century, but the sensation strikes me now. I collapse on top of her but catch my weight at the last minute. “Am I crushing you?” I ask.
For a long minute, she doesn’t answer. The only sound echoing in the room is our ragged panting. I stay buried inside her, resting my weight against the settee.
“You’re not crushing me,” she says at last. “But I’m pretty sure that whatever we did just now could have crushed this building.”
“That’s fine,” I mumble against her throat. “I’ll buy it. Or maybe rebuild it.”
“If you actually do that,” Iris whispers, her chest heaving against mine, “I’m making you change these decorations. They’re utterly garish.”
I can’t argue with that. In fact, at that moment, I don’t think I can argue with anything she says.
I pull out of her slowly, the wet friction drawing a soft gasp from her lips. She’s stunning, the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met. And to think, I could have spent tonight schmoozing with other obscenely rich monsters or chatting with Sigurd over drinks I can’t even taste anymore.
I needed this more than I knew.
“That was certainly a more productive use of our time than discussing books across a counter,” I say, shooting her a quick smile. “I must remember to thank Camille for meddling. It made for a highly enjoyable diversion.”
Iris doesn’t smile back. Instead, her entire body tenses, going completely rigid against me. The dazed look in her eyes vanishes instantly, replaced by a cold sharpness. She pushes me away and stumbles off the couch, out of my reach. “Iris?” I ask. “What’s wrong?”
Iris reaches for her dress and quickly pulls it on. She lets out a bitter bark of laughter. “Nothing’s wrong. In fact, everything is perfectly fine. It all makes sense now. That’s what you really think of me, Mr. al-Rashid. That I’m a diversion.”
I stare at her in shock. Until now, I didn’t realize how one thoughtless word could hurt a person. Maybe it’s because I haven’t said many of them. My words are always effortlessly smooth and suave. Except with Iris, apparently, where I’ve managed to put my foot in my mouth.
Surely, there must be a way to fix this, to explain. “Iris, I—”
“Don’t even bother.” She cuts me off. “You know, I wish I had a dark roast right now. Or maybe one of your crumpled bills. That’s the only thing you’re fucking worth.”
She grabs the door handle. She doesn’t hesitate, nor does she look back. The wood groans as she pushes through it, and she’s instantly swallowed by the deafening bass of the club.
I stand alone in the VIP lounge, still tasting her sweet juices on my lips and smelling her sweat on my skin. My body hums with the aftermath of the most carnal high of my existence.
And I know I’ve made the biggest mistake of my life.