The sensation escalated, making my legs tremble. I couldn’t control the involuntary arching of my spine as another wave thrust into me. My body was at war with control—and surrendering had never felt sweeter.
One hand curled around my thigh, nails biting in, as he opened me even wider. His mouth pressing into me harder—hungrily, possessively.
My eyes pinched closed. The moan that left my lips was raw, full of aching need. His wicked licks were going to throw me over the cliff to free fall . . . and I wanted them to.
But something touched my face, a phantom of a kiss. The sensation had me opening my eyes a crack to see a small delicate tendril of a shadow, retreating.
I gasped, lungs heaving, still nearing that edge, but I held enough focus to follow that wisp of a shadow. That’s when I saw him?—
Pogue.Standing at the edge of the bar closest to us, alone. Watching. Waiting.
He didn’t look disgusted or horrified. No—it was entirely something else. A look of cold, possessive wrath.
The drink in his hand was untouched as white knuckles dared it to shatter. With a free hand, his fingers meticulously tapped on the bar.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
As if waiting—calculating.
Another swipe of Finley’s tongue and plunge of his fingers had me moaning, dragging in a ragged breath. But I didn’t look away,couldn’tlook away.
Pogue knew exactly what he was doing—challenging me. And a dark part of me challenged right back, not breaking his stare.
My temperature spiked, my muscles clenched around Finley’s fingers.
I was about to completely explode, right when Pogue grew a slow, malicious grin. Those eyes shackled me in place, unyielding and inescapable.
And then I climaxed, to the view of Pogue’s ruthless, exquisite face. A face that would destroy me—and savor every second of it.
Slowly, he raised his glass at me, a silent victory.
33
CARWYNN
I was going to hurl.
Finley was right. After he shattered me into oblivion, the aching, lust-thirsty craze had ebbed away. But in its place was now every single drop of alcohol brewing in the pit of my stomach, immediately sending my brain and body into a drunken, sloppy mess.
Finley joined me back on the seat and pulled me into his arms. His final kiss was adoring, our lips meeting, allowing me a taste of both of us.
But my mouth watered at the sudden anxious nausea.
Was it the drinks finally catching up, or the fact that Pogue just eye-fucked me from across the bar as I climaxed.
Finley must’ve read my sickly face.
“Let’s get you some water.”
He guided me to the bar with a strong, steadying arm confidently locked around my waist.
I froze as the cheers and whistles crescendoed, nearly driving me to cover my ears.
There, on top the bar, was the Si Dancing Queen. Breenaclicked her heels, swaying to the beat as she walked, kicking glasses aside. When the heavy bass of the song dropped, so did Breena, low. Then, ever so slowly, she snaked her way back up, curving her backside.
