Chapter Ten
Chapter
Ten
ASHER
Malachi guides Sage into the shadowed corner of the ballroom, his hand possessively settled at the small of her back, fingers gripping her waist with an ownership that tightens my jaw.
I don't let my irritation show—not outwardly.
I'm too practiced for that. But beneath my carefully maintained veneer of casual amusement, anger simmers quietly.
I feel it sharpen every time Malachi leans closer to her, whispering secrets I can't hear but can easily imagine.
He touches her like he already owns her, fingers disappearing beneath the silk of her emerald gown, and even from this distance, I can read the shift in her posture, the subtle arch, the way her head tilts ever so slightly backward.
Jealousy coils tight in my gut, sour and foreign.
I should look away. I have my own entertainment to focus on, after all.
The two women I claimed earlier are kneeling at my feet, alternating their attention as their soft lips slide along the length of my cock. Normally, this would be enough. More than enough.
Tonight, though, it's not.
I stare down, watching their mouths moving along me, tongues tracing paths that should ignite fire in my blood. It feels good—of course it does—but somehow, the sensation is muted. Hollow.
My gaze flickers upward again, inevitably drawn back to Sage. Malachi's clearly skilled; the way she clings to him, lost in sensation, tells me he's playing her body expertly. The spike of irritation grows in my chest.
I hate losing.
And three million dollars? For a librarian who blushes at the slightest attention? It's absurd. Excessive. Revealing.
Malachi never loses control. Never shows his hand. Yet tonight, he did both.
Enough of this. Enough watching from afar. I grip one woman's waist and firmly roll her onto her stomach, pulling her hips upward until she's positioned exactly how I want her. She moans in anticipation, arching back toward me, eager for more.
I thrust into her swiftly, her body instantly tightening around me, pulling me deeper. She gasps, gripping the marble floor as her cries blend into the decadent chorus of pleasure surrounding us.
"Come here," I murmur roughly, tugging the other woman up by her arm until she's positioned above me. I lean back, pulling her down onto my mouth, feeling her thighs tense as my tongue immediately moves against her.
She cries out sharply, her fingers twisting into my hair, hips rocking in desperate rhythm. The woman beneath me whimpers, urging me deeper, her body trembling beneath my hands.
Yet, I find myself detached, going through motions I've perfected over countless nights. I pleasure them both skillfully, driving them closer to their peaks, knowing exactly how to bring them there quickly.
But it's mechanical. Empty.
I glance again toward Malachi and Sage, bitterness tightening in my chest as I watch her cling to him, pleasure evident in every line of her body. Through the dim light, I can see her blue-grey eyes half-closed, lips parted, completely lost in whatever he's doing to her.
He won. He took her from me.
And that thought overshadows everything else.
I redouble my efforts, determined to finish this. My grip tightens as I bring both women swiftly to climax, their pleasure washing through me in a rush of energy as their souls briefly intertwine with mine. It's powerful, intoxicating—exactly what I should want.
But as I claim their essence, I realize bitterly that it's meaningless tonight.
Because as long as Malachi has Sage, nothing else matters.