The Unlikeable Demon Hunter (Nava Katz #1)(9)
“Stick around till I get off?” He nodded at my backpack, stuffed on the seat beside me, which was ringing for the umpteenth time. “Or do you have plans?”
“Nope.” I pulled out my phone and turned it off. But not before glancing at the screen. Seventeen messages all from my home number. My parents, not Ari. With a sigh, I shoved it into my hoodie pocket and threw him a coy look from under my lashes. “I’m all yours.”
“I’m counting on it,” he replied with a wicked grin.
Ladytown flooded like it was time to start collecting two of every animal. Whoa, baby. Praying that Josh was my golden O ticket, I found myself back at his place hours later, half-drunk, partially naked, and totally giving him the hand job of his life. Doing it for him, in hopes that he’d be able to do it for me. Honestly though, my thoughts pre-occupied me more than his cock. That I could work on autopilot.
“Maybe they chose me because of my attitude issues.” I lay on my side facing Josh, my head propped in my free hand. “Though technically, the choosing happened when I was born so they didn’t have any way of knowing how I’d turn out.” I kept the details vague since there was no knowing if Demon Club would kill Josh for hearing top secret intel.
“Mmmm, yeah,” Josh moaned, kicking his jeans off. His movement made the thin mattress bounce. His sculpted abs jiggled not at all.
“But what if that’s why I’m such a dick? Such an epic failure. Because I was destined for something amazing and denied it.” You talking dance or demon hunting, Nava? “You think I could sue them for existential pain and suffering?”
“Full-on.” Josh thrust his hips in a rhythmic motion.
I rolled onto my back, my hand still working away. I’d always been a good multitasker. “I didn’t ask for it. It’s not fair for my brother to be so pissed off.”
“Uh, babe?” Josh poked me in my side. “Discussions of brothers while your hand’s on my junk? Kinda killing the buzz.”
“Sorry.”
He leaned over me, his eyes glazed with lust. “Think you could…?” He motioned for me to go down on him.
“Yeah, sure.” My hand was getting tired anyway. I slid down his body. “Thing is,” I began. With my mouth full, the words came out garbled and I guess I caught some skin because Josh flinched.
“Go back to the hand job,” he sighed.
Geez, make up your mind. I shimmied back to my starting position. “I don’t even want this. It isn’t some lady-doth-protest-too-much shit either. The pressure would be insane. Everyone would be watching me, waiting for me to screw up. Plus the possible death of it all. I’m not big on that either.”
A niggle of guilt prodded at me for dumping my problems on Josh, so I gave him a flirty smile. He shot me a heated look in response. Lust tumbled hot and furious down from my now-dry throat to much, much lower. I crossed my legs, squirming, as I stole another glance at him.
His face seemed to… flicker? for a second. The line of his jaw blurring, his skin suddenly much furrier than his five o’clock shadow warranted.
I blinked and the room snapped into a sharp clarity. Just me and a gorgeous guy. But his serious sex appeal had me so lightheaded that all the color in the room bleached out briefly. In fact, I felt like I’d bleached out briefly.
“As I was saying… ouch!” My hand seized up. I shook it out and switched to my right.
My fingertips tingled. I amped up the speed, hoping he’d finish already. More than ready for my turn. I’d give up a kidney for an orgasm after the day I’d had.
Josh’s eyes were closed, his breathing ragged. All positive signs for his happy ending.
Thank God, because my hand hurt. Had I pinched a nerve? I grit my teeth. Cramp or no cramp, I wasn’t about to break my personal record of every man left satisfied. A girl had to have some skill she could be proud of, even if she couldn’t put it on a résumé.
Josh let out a guttural moan.
Being well-versed in the nuances of guttural, I translated this one as “gold star, Nava.” But my smugness fell away at the tugging pull starting low in my gut. Not a virulent food poisoning, all-out cramping, but more like my soul was being manhandled. I slowed down my strokes, rubbing my belly with my free hand.
Josh’s eyes sparked like he was getting off more on my discomfort than on my expert dexterity. A prickle of unease danced across the back of my neck.
“Let yourself go, baby,” he growled.
Please. He was hot but coming by osmosis wasn’t a thing. I was overreacting. Josh wasn’t a threat, just a douche.
Sweat trickled down my scalp and a sharp pressure rose through the fingers of my right hand, now cramped tight around his knob. I hadn’t been jerking him off long enough to be this tired. Pain pulsed outward from the middle of my palm as if my synapses had starting shooting electric bullets.
“Almost there,” he mumbled. His hips were practically levitating they were lifting off the bed so high.
My belly twisted and I drew my knees into my chest for some relief, yet I couldn’t stop touching Josh. The more I tugged, the more he moaned lustily, and the more I grit my teeth. My abdomen felt like it was a leaking tire, but I wasn’t injured. More like with each stroke I was losing something essential, growing wearier, and I wasn’t able to explain why.