Burned (Devil's Blaze MC, #2)(12)

“Right here. Right now.” When her legs spread just a mere inch, I smile in victory and reward her by taking her mouth and kissing the hell out of her.





I thought I’ve been kissed before. I haven’t. That much is clear the minute his lips take mine. His tongue dives into my mouth without asking for permission. He seeks, plunders, and owns me with just the warring of his tongue against mine. I concede. I give him victory. There’s no way I could fight it. He dominates me and I can’t stop the whimper of unhappiness when he pulls away, taking his wicked tongue with him. I follow it, needing more, already addicted to the taste of him.

“Fuck,” he whispers.

Slowly, I open my eyes to look up at him. He’s so beautiful, he makes my * clench in need just from the look on his face right now. His hair is a cross between light brown and a hint of gold. It’s clipped short, but the top is long with the ends curly and lying lazily on his head. It invites a woman to run her fingers through it—a woman like me. His eyes are green, but not like mine. No, these are real, and they sparkle. I can see the color glisten even in this dark corner. They sparkle with a joy that says he doesn’t have a care in the world. I want to experience that for just one minute. I want that look. What would it feel like to not have worries? To not have people depending on you to keep them safe? To never worry about monsters lurking in the darkness? What would that feel like?

My sister is going to kill me, but I’m going to sample this long, tall drink of sin standing before me. Bethie wouldn’t understand, but then again… I’m not my sister. My life has never known a moment of certainty in it. She at least had that for a while. That’s just not in the cards for me. So, if I can find joy in the arms of a man, I will, and that’s exactly what I’m going to do tonight.

Bethie hasn’t said, but I’m pretty sure Skull is the only man that she has ever opened her legs for. The bad part of that is, I don’t think she will ever allow herself to be available to anyone else ever again. Guys flirt with her all the time and she doesn’t even notice. I got after her about it once, but she told me all she had time for was Gabby. The sadness in her eyes called her a liar, but I let it pass. I keep hoping that maybe someday she will heal.

I pull my attention back to the man in front of me. His fingers are gently brushing back and forth against the wet lips of my *. They don’t try to slip inside. No, instead, he just uses them to lightly pet my * in time with the music. It’s a small tease, forecasting what’s to come, and it sends delicious chills running through my body.

“What are you thinking about, sweetness?”

“You.”

“Now, I don’t want to call you a liar,” he says, “but your face went a million miles away. That’s okay. I know just what to do to bring you back to me.”

“Is that so?” I ask, trying to ignore how perceptive he is.

“Definitely.”

Then, I feel his fingers brush against my slick clit. My breath lodges in my chest and I can’t help but look around. People are dancing just a few feet away from us. I’m in a room with hundreds of people, and when I feel his fingers glide down my wet * into my opening, I don’t make one protest.

“You’re so f*cking wet. I could slam balls-deep into your * in one easy glide. Is that what you want, dirty girl? Do you want me to f*ck you right here with everyone around?” his dark voice asks against my ear. His breath, just another sensation to the hundreds that are already bombarding me when his fingers thrust deep inside.

It takes my breath away, the feel of him sliding inside of me, despite being in this room. I know only a moment of panic. I might try to enjoy sex when I can, but I’ve never been an exhibitionist. I suddenly feel like I am in over my head here.

“Give me your name, sweetness.”

“Why?” I gasp as he angles his fingers differently, hitting me in a way I’m not sure I’ve been touched before.

“I want to know it before you come all over my hand.”

Fuck. I want him to say my name too, but I can’t chance it. I may look nothing like Bethie anymore, but the resemblance is there. Giving him my name is just too much to gamble. I wet my lips and bite them to keep the moan of disappointment contained when he stops moving his fingers.

“Your name, sweetness,” he urges, bending into me and whispering into my ear.

I swallow, prepared to lie, but it’s hard. The truth is there and I want to scream it. I want to hear this beautiful man call my name all night. Being denied that is a physical pain.

“Holly,” I blurt out, grasping at the first name that comes to mind.

“Good girl. Here’s what we’re going to do, Holly.” His fingers begin petting me again, sliding in and out of my * so slowly he might be driving me insane. “Are you listening?”

“Yes?” It comes out as a question because I’m not listening, not really. I’m concentrating on the way his hand is manipulating my * and how his thumb is stroking my clit.

“Good girl. I’m going to take my hand away. I’m going to go tell my men I’m gone for the night. You’re going to wait right here for me. Then, to reward you for being such a good girl, I’m going to take you out back to the supply closet by the bathrooms I found earlier and f*ck you hard. When I’m done there, you and I are going to blow this joint and really party.”