I take a deep, daring gulp. The liquor is scorching, but it instantly sends a delicious warmth through my veins, sharpening my focus, stripping away my last inhibitions. I smile back at him, sharp and wild.
I’m dancing, my body moving with a raw, feral abandon I didn't know I possessed. My hips roll, deliberately brushing the erection straining beneath his pants. I let the other demons look, letting them crave what they cannot have.
He leans close, his breath hot against my ear, the bass vibrating his words into my core. “That dress is driving themmad. Show me more, little witch.”
My hips answer him, pushing my pussy hard against his length, a silent, demanding promise. “Iamshowing you,” I breathe back, a thrilling arrogance flooding me.
I feel his grip tighten on my wrist. He pulls me sharply through the crowd, past twisting, writhing bodies, toward a dark corner near the back. Slade shoves an unmarked iron door open, dragging me inside.
The room is tiny, black, and silent compared to the club, lined with rough, padded leather. The only light is the crimson glow seeping from beneath the door. He slams the door shut, spinning me around, throwing me back against the cool, dark leather. His mouth crashes onto mine, a violent, desperate claim that steals my breath and my thoughts. He spins me around, slamming my chest against the wall.
His hands are on the back of my dress, instantly finding the zipper. He rips it down with a vicious snap, shoving the silk aside. My panties are already wet, hot, and soaked.
He growls, pulling me tight against him so I feel the solid, desperate heat of his erection. “You are going to take every inch of me, right here, right now.”
I lift my hips, desperate, shoving my knees apart for him. I feel his hands grip my waist, pushing me forward against the leather.
He is kneeling on the floor, pushing the dress up, finding my burning, dripping core.
I scratch at the leather as his mouth closes over my pussy. The noise outside is a muffled rhythm, but the sound of his hungry sucking is deafening in the tiny space. His tongue is a weapon, driving deep into my wet folds, consuming me, giving me absolutely no quarter.
I cry out, a silent, desperate scream caught in my throat, my head thrown back as I push my pussyagainst his mouth. My body is writhing, my hips bucking wildly against his face.
“Tell me how much you need it, little witch,” he demands, his voice a dark rasp against my skin. “Tell me I am the only one who tastes you.”
“Yours!” I gasp, the word tearing from me. “I’m yours! Don’t stop!”
I’m shattering, my body seizing. The climax is a deep, shaking explosion that leaves me trembling and slick against the cold leather. I scream his name into the silent room. He pulls back, rising above me, his length sprung free, hard and demanding. He pulls me up, spinning me to face him, and I guide him, my hands gripping his erection. Slade wraps my legs around him, and plunges into me, one deep, violent thrust that buries him completely.
I meet his aggression, my hands locking around his neck. He pins me to the wall, and the fierce rhythm begins—fast, hard, primal, powered by the feral energy of the club outside.
I ride the edge of control, my eyes locked on his, my own voice lost in the rhythmic, guttural sounds he tears from his chest. This is pure, unadulterated pleasure and power.
He leans into my ear for one final declaration. “This isyourrealm, you hear me? Andyouare…mine.”
The climax is sharp, violent, and complete, locking our bodies together in a shaking, gasping union. I cling to him, my body heavy and satiated. He pulls us back together, slowly zipping the dress, fixing the chaos we unleashed. He kisses my forehead, his touch reverent, protective.
“Now,” he whispers, steadying me. “The night is young. Let’s show them the Lady Athalar is still hungry.”
I nod, the raw power still burning in my eyes. I take his hand, and we step back out into the light of the Ninth Realm, ready to conquer the rest of the night.
I’m standing beside him, the loud, aggressive music of the Harrow washing over my senses. The fresh, delicious throb of being completely sated is a steady pulse that has me clenching my thighs tighter while we walk. I’m still riding the high of the tight, dark space, knowing exactly what we just did andwherewe did it.
“Night life, you say?” I whisper, my voice rough with residual need, my gaze challenging him. “You haven't shown me the real secrets yet, Slade.”
He’s looking down at me, his eyes gleaming with dark amusement, acknowledging my desire for more chaos. “My Lady isinsatiable,” he murmurs, his hand tightening on mine. “Very well. There are places even the Harrow avoids. They’re not pretty, but they’re honest.”
He’s leading me out of the crushing throng of the main street, pulling me toward a narrow alleyway choked with steam and shadows. The air here is cooler, thicker, and carries a distinct smell of burnt metal and ancient incense.
We're moving deeper into the basalt canyon. The clubs are giving way to cramped, unmarked doors and windows covered with thick, oily grime. The creatures here are different—more angular, their glowing eyes fixed, their movements slow and heavy with something ancient.
I’m feeling the power emanating from Slade intensify. Here, in the true underbelly, he’s not just the Lord of the Ninth. He’s the Apex Predator.
We stop before a door that is nothing more than a sheet of rust-pocked metal. It bears no sign, only a single, slow-flashing blue light above it.
“The Velvet Pit,” he announces, his voice low and devoid of warmth. “It’s where deals are made, secrets are traded, and the rules of the surface realm don't apply.”
I feel a dangerous thrill shiver down my spine. “It’s perfect.”
