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Not yet.
My dick begins hardening at the thought of her, an ache building in it because of this distance between us. I snort at that and pull Faith closer to me to ease the ache buried deep inside me. There’s nothing between her and I. Never will be. But her hip bone is useful at the moment, and her skin under the lace she’s wearing creates memory in my palm.
She giggles at my advance, low and sultry, as we keep turning through the throngs of other dances. “We could,” she murmurs.
“No, we couldn’t,” I snarl back, hunting a new direction across the floor. Never will we do that. “You’re just a useful rutting post. Grind harder.”
Another giggle, as her hip gives more leverage for me. “So callous, Gray. I like you more in this mood.”
Of course she does. I’m tuning into Malachi for the night.
Chapter 13
Hannah
The long trail of my dress drags behind me, heavy with black jewels and crystals, as I weave through the people in this room I’ve found. It’s dark here. Murky and shadowed against the lighter air outside on the main floor. And it smells of sin.
Slaps crack around the room, laughter and moans following them in a new pulse of their own making. I stand and close my eyes under this elaborate mask, smelling and listening to the continuous sound with no care for the position I’m in. It’s all so beautiful, like a desperate need fulfilled by hands and bodies and objects.
My eyes flutter open slowly at a scream close by, and I spin gently to watch as a man strings a woman up higher and higher into the air. Ropes embellish her skin, creating patterns and knots that seems to constrict and heave tighter on each next pull. I stare as she arches and swings above me, fascinated by the sense of bliss she seems to be under. The scream seems laced with fear, but her face seems anything but fearful. Serene, maybe.
Tranquil.
“He hasn’t found you yet,” Malachi’s voice says from somewhere.
I twirl again to look at him and find nothing amongst the dark shadows and corners but other people. Still, I smile at the thought of him nearby, remembering our time together, and run my fingers over the lace at my stomach’s bruises. This must be his type of fun. Dark, dangerous.
I look upward again, wondering if this woman would die if she fell now. Deadly? Maybe that’s Gray’s fun, too. My fingers twine the gold chain around themselves, looping it and gripping. I could do this for him if he asked. I could spin and fall, crash into his arms and hope for protection.
I giggle at that and look around, chasing more visions in this cacophony of dirt and sex. Grim visuals assault me, all of them deemed acceptable because of the joviality on the faces dealing with them. A bar tans a man’s behind in the corner, the thwacks of it loud and aggressive. And a knife slices skin on another woman, ejaculate mingling with the blood drawn. I briefly wonder if any of them are married like Malachi and Faith are, and then I dismiss the notion. No memories now. No thoughts backwards. Hannah is here.
No one else but the singular.
“Don’t turn around,” Malachi says. His body presses into mine, arms latching around my waist and fingers dragging on the bruises he caused. “Do they hurt?”
“No. Not especially.”
“I’ll have to hit you harder next time.”
My smile widens at the thought. Harder means better orgasms. I’d like some of those. “Why can’t I turn around?”
“Because you’ll fall in love, and Gray will be lost for the evening with no one to fuck.”
I feel the hard length of his cock press into my lower back, the weight of it pushed in hard as his fingers tighten on the welted areas. They burn from his touch, as if signalling a need lower down between my thighs. I purr at the feel of it all, my eyes still fixed on the sight of cum falling across the woman’s stomach, and I roll back into him through instinct alone.
“As he said, it’s only you he wants. Why is that?” he murmurs.
I don’t know. But it’s true of me, too. I ache for Gray now. Deep down. Low in my body, as if it’s lost without a missing part. No one has ever been there before him, never touched me in ways he does or handled me the way he can. I flinch at the thought, my body still undulating of its own accord, as I watch another slice of skin.
“Blood play,” eases out of Malachi’s lips. “You like?”
“Hmm.”
“You liked the blade on you, too.” Did I?
Cold, metal.
No other words are spoken for some time. We both just stand here, taking in the sights around us and listening to the distant grunts and moans. It’s almost quiet in my mind other than the sound of Malachi’s breathing above me. That’s all I can really hear, as he keeps rubbing his cock into me slowly and rests his chin on my head.
