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Her moans filled his ears, and his head snapped up. Her fingers delved between those slick folds, her eyes moving between the two men before her, the sound of her desire increasing, breathy whimpers falling from her plump pink lips, while her other lips damn near drowned the sheets.
Watching her pleasure herself was a sight he’d not soon forget. Watching Roth stroking his large, thick cock as he watched them both find their own pleasure made his balls draw up, threatening to spill his load sooner than he wanted. His fingers circled the base, above his balls, and squeezed hard in an effort to delay what would soon be inevitable.
Her back arched off the bed, her breasts thrust upwards, hard, pert nipples begged to be licked and sucked. Like puppets, they were pulled forward until each male was beside her. Her mystical eyes flashed heated flames of lust at them, offering herself up to be devoured, an offering they gladly took advantage of.
Athon’s tongue flicked out, swirling around the sweet, pink nipple, a stark contrast to her soft, pale skin and their tanned, firm forms. Roth read his mind, and, as one, they licked and nibbled every inch of her bountiful chest, one hand stroking her hair. They caressed their free hands down over her slightly curved stomach and over her hips. Gliding down to her knees and back up behind her thighs, tracing the curve of what promised to be a killer ass. Lifting their heads they glanced at their seductress before locking eyes and twining their fingers together. Her whimpers became mewling prayers for more as Roth and Athon leaned in. Instead of returning to her beautiful body their lips came together in a kiss full of pent-up want and broken restraint as their joined hands descended on her sodden pussy. Two hands, two sets of fingers used as one, they danced over her clit and thrust deep inside her heated core, what would have been two fingers . . . Now four . . . With a shout of ecstasy, her tight heat convulsed around their fingers as their tongues dueled, her ecstasy becoming theirs as they came, long and hard, over her still shuddering torso.
Chapter 8
Holy shit! That was one heck of a wet dream and a half. The new guy, with the tatts, piercings, and a gorgeous rainbow mohawk, was a surprise, considering she’d been dreaming of the other one for eight years now, and no one else. But her original dream guy had totally seemed up to it. They both had. The kiss they’d shared, and the combination of their fingers plunging into her wet pussy, had her panties flooded, or would have if she’d been wearing any. Which she apparently wasn’t. Peeling her sweat slicked body away from the satin sheets Ballzy insisted on providing, she glanced about and found her clothes tossed willy-nilly on the floor around the bed.
Standing, she felt the cool glide of wetness trickle between her breasts and down her stomach, and she froze. Nope, just sweat from the extremely sexy dream. Absolutely, that had to be it. Despite the sweet scent of cum filling her nose that called her a liar. To believe otherwise just added a whole new level of utter batshit weird to her already fucked up situation.
A glance at the window to her cell revealed Balthazar’s lust filled gaze locked on her. One hand fisting his rigid length through his pants. Great, how long had he watched her this time while she’d tossed and turned on the bed dreaming of those two hotties? Glancing back at the completely ruined sheets, she caught a glimpse of her flushed body in the mirror . . .
Fuck! She was still naked! Glaring in his direction again she gave him the middle finger salute and made a dash for the bathroom. His low, rough chuckle followed her walk of shame, even if it was more of a run than a walk.
Closing the door and starting the shower she climbed straight in, allowing the cool water to sluice over her heated skin. Her face tilted up, wetting her from head to toe, her hair plastered to her back, the ends teasing over the rounded curves of her ass. Jezzie slid her hand down over her breasts and stomach. Her other hand froze halfway to the lily scented soap Ballzy gave her no choice but to use.
Shit! The telltale squeaky feel of cum and water on her skin left no doubt. Lifting her fingers, she inhaled the uniquely male scent, her tongue darted out without conscious thought and licked her palm. Just her freaking luck. Super hot dream guys with real life consequences.
Finishing up in the shower she made up her mind to ignore what had just happened and continue her plan for the day. Piss off Ballzy and do as much recon as she could. Over the years she’d gathered bits and pieces of information about the asshat’s operation, but there was something he was hiding, and Jezzie was determined to figure it out.
Thankfully her clothing was kept in a closet attached to the bathroom. By the time she was dressed, in the least revealing outfit she could find, thank you, Balthazar, she’d also donned her implacable ‘take no shit’ bitch face and was ready to face him. It was the best she could do when the need to conserve her shadow energy was paramount, otherwise she’d have walked out of there looking like a completely different person. Fortunately that little trick was something he didn’t know she was capable of . . . yet.
Striding out into the fray expectantly she came to a sudden halt as she realized he’d fucking left already. Instead of the defensive fight reflex fading away her anger spiked. She’d been ready to raise hell, and he just walked away? Screw that.
Her ‘cell’ was always left unlocked, not like she could go anywhere or anything. The demons didn’t live here, just worked in the place, so they didn’t have to worry about her gutting them in their sleep, no matter how many times she’d fantasized about it, and she wasn’t about to let slip her little power storing ability anytime soon either.
As she pushed through the door and took in the hallway, she had to admit the place wasn’t what she’d expected when she’d first arrived. The decor was very gothic, but in a beautiful, rich, and plush kind of way. Not that emo goth thing that modern day humans embraced, but the dark timbers and velvets, the finely crafted furnishings, and overall feel of luxury.
Balthazar had mentioned that he’d made all of the furniture by hand himself, apparently he was at least as old as the actual era judging from how he spoke about the comforts of a home he’d once had. It was a rare moment where his mask had slipped, the real Balthazar shone through, and she’d seen the sadness haunting his eyes. It’d been quickly replaced with his usual arrogance though, and she’d been left wondering who Balthazar really was. Until the next round of interrogation had started, that is. Then he’d been firmly entrenched in asshole status once again.
He was so determined to unravel the mystery of what she was. He seemed to think she posed a threat to something, or someone. She had no fucking idea what threat she could pose, really. From the rare occasions her mother had spoken of her father it had all revolved around how they met, why she needed to stay hidden, and who he was. She never really talked about his powers or how they would manifest in her, a hybrid. She felt more power simmering under her skin than what she could currently use, but as yet couldn’t access it. And it really was starting to piss her off that she felt so helpless here.
What pissed her off far more was that Ballzy seemed to think it was okay to get off while watching her sleep, and fuck ghostly dream men in said sleep. It wasn’t the first time she’d woken to find him observing her. As if he thought she’d spill her secrets while she slept. Like fucking hell she would. First thing her mother and aunt had taught her to do was shield that shit, plus the secret keeper spell the witches had placed on her, until her powers completely came out hadn’t hurt, and was still in place until her full manifestation was complete, whenever that would be.
The spell essentially put a mind block on her so no one could read her thoughts or force/coerce information out of her related to her parentage, powers, or species. It also meant she couldn’t reveal said info to those not already privy to it. As a child it had made sure she never accidentally slipped up, probably a very good thing too as she’d liked to talk . . . A lot. So, even if she wanted to tell him what he wanted to know, she couldn’t, not yet.
Well the fucker had a shock coming his way. She was done with his shit, and there was no way he and his little demons were using her as the star attraction in his little fucked up torture zoo anymore.
Making her way along the hallway to his office at the end, said demons scurried away when they saw her. One even retreated to the room they were leaving and slammed the door in fright. As she came to the solid walnut double doors and paused to collect her fiery temper, lest it get the best of her, she contemplated the best entrance strategy. Did she kick in the door? Shove it open, arms spread wide? Use a touch of power from her shadows? Or go stealthy? Deciding she was pissed off enough that she definitely needed to bring the drama, she lifted her booted foot and slammed it into the hard doors. The hard, locked doors. And promptly found herself flat on her generous ass, with a lovely view of the ceiling.
Looking back at the doors with a glare she found they had been opened, and the current reigning douche bag of her ire lazily leaned against the jamb, ankles crossed and hands in the pockets of his finely tailored trousers. Amusement ran rife over his features, even as he tried to hold it in.
“Next time you're in a snit, luv,” he drawled sarcastically, his eyes sparkling. “Try to remember the doors are solid hardwood.” He turned to go back to his desk but paused and looked back, nodding toward each of the two doors.
“Also, they open outwards. So kicking them in doesn’t do a fucking thing.” At the last part he used his powers to close said doors as his full on belly laugh reached her crimson stained ears. With anger, she told herself, never embarrassment, not around him. Never around him.
Jumping to her feet she pulled the doors open and walked in like she owned the place. Hmm, maybe one day she would. See how he liked it when she took everything away from him. Maybe she’d keep him in a gilded cage and make him her pet. Feed from his feelings and his soul, little by little, until there was nothing left but a dried out husk of what he currently was. But, did she really want to be like him? To go down that rabbit hole and possibly lose even more of herself?
He obviously hadn’t been expecting her to follow him in. Probably thought she’d tuck tail and run, licking her wounds before coming back for round two. And she would've, before, but something had changed within her in the last twenty-four hours. She was done taking all the shit that was being piled on her. She felt stronger. Not her powers, or her shadows, not even anything to do with feeding, well, maybe she’d dreamed of the feelings Mr tall, dark, and handsome, and his sexy mohawked friend had felt, but that didn’t count, right? Shaking her head she got back on track and out of her thoughts. Her inner strength felt more grounded, her walls fortified.
Ballzy was standing at a large bay window which overlooked the purple haze of the meadow outside, his eyes downcast and focussed on the photo frame cradled within his hands. It seemed too delicate and fragile to be in the hands of the monster she knew him to be. Her curiosity piqued, she crept forward on silent feet, thank fuck for plush carpet. She made it ten steps, catching a glimpse of honey blonde hair and baby blue eyes, before he slipped the frame face down onto the desk and turned to face her so fast she nearly landed on her ass again. His face was deliberately blank, no emotion at all, his mask firmly in place.
“Who’s that, Balthazar?” Using his name felt so weird, after all this time, but he wouldn’t have expected it. She knew she should leave it alone, but she was tired of being careful. She needed leverage to get out of here and away from him before he discovered who and what she was. It was too dangerous for him to have that information. He was a loose cannon who worked for the other side, as far as she could tell. Too many shady people passed through the doors of the club for it to be any other way. Still, he had secrets, and she vowed to herself she’d find out his, before he found out hers.
“No one, luv, not anymore. A long-lost dream best left in the past,” was his emotionless reply. Not even a raised brow at the use of his name. Odd, and yet he betrayed that lack of feeling by turning to lock the picture into his desk drawer.
