She would let him. Gods, she would let him if she had the chance, and she didn’t care if everyone in here watched as he laid her back on this table and fucked her with his tongue.
“Try me, Darien Cassel,” she urged. He slid his hand lower as she pressed herself into his touch, and he cupped her, the heat from his body and hers fusing until they were one and the same. “See if I can handle it.”
She wasn’t prepared for his answer. Not prepared at all.
“I want to get down between your beautiful legs and wrap my mouth around your pussy,” he began, every word rough and low, “so I can find out if you taste as sweet as you look. And when I’m finished eating my way to your heart, I want to fuck you, hard and deep. And then I want to fuck your pretty little mouth the same way.”Hard and deep.
Oh, sweet Caligo. She knew he felt her body’s response to his declaration, and he answered its request by working her again, harder this time, rolling that sweet, electric spot between his fingers until her legs were not her own—until her body was not her own.
“Think you can handle that?”
“Yes,” she said, her stomach muscles fluttering. A whimper escaped her lips, and her words were wild gasps as she said, “I can, and I want to.” More than anything, she wanted him to fuck her mouth until she was crying, until there was nothing that existed except the taste of him on her tongue. She wanted it more than she wanted to breathe—wantedhimmore than she’d wanted anything ever. Her need for him would be the death of her.
But Darien suddenly stopped, his hand stilling just as she was about to reach that brink of pleasure. The stars sprinkling her vision faded away, and she was left gasping, her body aching with the crippling need for him.
“Why did you stop?” Her voice was practically a whine.
“Because when I make you come, I want you all to myself. I’m not sharing you with anyone—least of all them.” He inclined his head toward the crowded club—the people she’d forgotten all about. The people who were still watching them with sidelong glances that told her exactly how heated their performance had become. Darien’s voice was a low growl as he went on to say, “When I make you come, you will be all mine. And no one, except me, will have the pleasure of hearing those little sounds you make.”
Even though he was no longer stroking her, his words were enough to nearly push her to her climax.
Loren lifted her chin. “So, you’re going to make me wait, are you?” She writhed in his lap, causing him to fist a hand in her hair. “Are you sure that’s what you want?”
Darien made to either say something or lean in to kiss her, but he abruptly stopped, turning his head sharply to the left to look at someone. “Can I fucking help you?” he snapped.
Loren followed his line of sight, blinking the fog of lust from her vision to see a copper-haired warlock standing near their table with a drink in his hand, full-on gawking—
Ather, she realized. He was gawking ather. The others at their table had halted their own affairs and were now at full attention. Something tugged at the edge of her mind, where it was buried deep beneath emotion and time. She wasn’t sure what it was—
But Loren didn’t care—cared about nothing except Darien—as she writhed along his length again, loving how hard he was for her. Far too invested in the Devil to care about anything else, she barely noticed when the warlock dipped his head and scampered away.
Darien gave a dark laugh. “Easy,” he mumbled against Loren’s neck. He pressed his mouth against her skin, his tongue sweeping out to taste her. “If you keep rubbing up against my cock, I might have to lay you back on this table and give all these people the performance of a lifetime.”
“Please do,” Loren said, breathless.
But something caused her to look toward where the warlock had vanished, the puzzle pieces in her mind clicking together into recognition.
“Wait a minute…” Her mind sharpened into crystal clarity as her memory brought her back to that awful night when Sabrine had gone missing. “I know that guy. That’s the warlock that was with the Darkslayer the night Sabrine was taken.”
Darien’s head snapped up, and he scanned the club, the area where the warlock had vanished to. The other Devils at the table became abruptly aware of the shift in atmosphere as they once again halted their conversations, their drinking, and—in Dallas and Max’s case, as well as Jack and Ivy’s—their making-out.
It was to Tanner and Travis that Darien said, “That warlock who was just standing by the table was one of the men who took Sabrine.”
Sabrine, who was slumped against Logan’s side and more than a little tipsy, looked surprised by Darien’s statement. She sat up straighter, her bleary eyes finding Loren’s. Loren could see that she was grappling for recognition, for the memories that had eluded her, and was coming up empty.
Darien added, “Do not let him leave this club.”
Logan and Travis immediately stood and made their way for wherever the warlock had vanished to, the people on the colorful dancefloor stepping aside for them as they moved.
Darien settled back into the booth, his hand slipping under Loren’s skirt again. She twisted, urging that hand back to where she wanted it, but Darien stilled when someone kicked him sharply under the table.
He jolted, drawing a sharp hiss in through his teeth. The pain seemed to snap him out of his reverie, and he shot a hard look at Jack, who was laughing loudly with Ivy, though his amusement was abruptly cut off by Darien’s question. “What the hell was that for, you cocksucker?”
Jack’s smile faded as he glanced around, utterly confused. “It wasn’t me—”
“I’m about to jump across this table and beat you senseless—”
“It was me,” Tanner cut in. The sight of the tablet that was now resting upon his knees alerted Darien to how much time had passed. “I’m sorry but— Buddy’s about to leave.” He jerked his head in the direction of Baylor’s table.
