Page 68 of Filthy Fae

As the song began to wind down, people tossed bills onto the smooth, polished wooden stage. My pulse picked up speed as the tempo of the music changed to a sensual rhythm.

My gaze lifted, finding aquamarine eyes. I pointed straight at Mack, making sure there would be no confusion as to who I was choosing. Hoots and hollers rose through the crowd as Mack grinned and made his way through the tables. My heart skipped at the familiar figure he cut. His tall, strong build drew the admiration of most of the women in the audience as well as some of the men. Before climbing up and joining me, Mack paused to meet my gaze, his hands on the gleaming edge of the stage. The expression in his eyes clearly asked if I was still okay with doing this.

Biting my lip, I nodded and crooked a finger, and he immediately did a pull up onto the stage.

Nervousness stirred in my belly as I ran my hands up and down his body. I turned and rubbed my ass against him. Mack’s hands grasped my hips, matching my rhythm. No one on earth could move like Mack. When he danced, his body was like warm oil, each motion smooth and graceful and yet pouring with sexual energy. Even fully dressed as he was now, he could draw the attention of a room full of people. His hands slid down my bare skin, leaving trails of heat in their wake. He turned me in his arms, cupped my ass, and squeezed me against him, a glow of warm hunger in his aquamarine gaze.

“Pink peppercorn,” he said, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

Breathing a nervous laugh, I slid my hands across his tight pectorals, toying with his buttons as I undid them. A shivery feeling worked its way into my belly, as if I’d never done this before. As if I were still that naïve girl under the bleachers with her best friend.

“Are you sure about this?” I asked, peeking up at him from under my lashes.

“Abso-fucking-lutely,” Mack said, his hands sliding up to my waist, caressing the sensitive skin just inside my hipbones with his thumbs.

I tugged his shirt from his pants and spread it open, revealing his lithe, muscular chest and chiseled abs and drawing an inhalation from both the crowd and me. They could only watch, though. This beautiful man was mine alone to touch. I leaned forward, stuck out my tongue as far as it would go, and dragged it over Mack’s rigid nipple.

He buried his hand in my hair, a groan vibrating against my lips from inside him. I reached for his pants, but he caught my hand and turned me to the music, letting the crowd admire my body from all angles again. When I was again facing the crowd, Mack slid an arm around me, stepping up close to my back. His hips grazed against my ass, teasing me with a light touch as his hand drew my arm over my head, around his neck. His fingers traced down the underside of my arm, sliding down my body to my breast. He squeezed my nipple, rolling it between his fingers. My clit throbbed in response, adding to the dance beat pulsing through me.

Mack inhaled deeply, burying his nose in my hair. As his hand trailed lower, skimming across my bare skin, a shiver of longing twisted through me, and wetness sprang to life between my thighs. The aroma of my arousal filled the air around us, and I caught a few shifters closest to the stage flaring their nostrils to inhale the scent of my bare sex. The thought felt too taboo, too naughty, but instead of making me shy, it increased the wetness pooling between my lips.

Mack’s hand slid lower, cupping my smooth mound and massaging it gently.

“You shaved,” he murmured in my ear.

“It seemed like something the audience would like,” I said, voice breathy as his fingertip teased my bare skin. When he didn’t answer, I pulled his head up, twisting to see his face. “Do you like it?”

“I like you every way, everywhere, every time,” he said, his fingers spreading my sex for the audience. I heard a collective intake of breath, and a surge of excitement charged my body.

“Thank you,” I whispered. “For doing this for me.”

“And miss a chance to have you all to myself?” he said, dipping a finger into my slit to wet it before circling my throbbing clit.

A pang of remorse went through me. Had I really made him share me with Aaron every time? Even this time, when it was just the two of us, he was sharing me with a room full of people. And he didn’t have to say that this wasn’t his kink. I knew he was doing it for me, and I knew that I was asking a lot of him, maybe even testing the limits of our friendship. He would be as exposed, as vulnerable as I would, and he might not get a thrill from it. But it went both ways. I would be one hundred percent on board to try anything he wanted, too.

Mack let my wetness coat his fingers before sinking them further into me, finding my entrance and burying them deep.

“Mack,” I gasped, reaching behind me to grab his shaft through his pants. Suddenly, I didn’t care about the crowd. I cared about having this man inside me, giving him my full attention for once.

When I squirmed against him, he pulled his fingers out and loosened his grip, allowing me to turn. I ran my hands down his body, reveling in the warmth of his smooth skin and the ridges of muscle in his torso. At last, I hooked my hand over the waistband of his pants. There was a murmur, and I glanced back. The audience leaned forward, craning to see more. They suddenly seemed much less interesting than the person in front of me.

“How do you get these off?” I asked, fumbling with Mack’s button, desperate to have all of him inside me.

“They tear away,” he said, reaching down and grabbing them in a firm hold. With one yank, the pants were gone, fluttering down on the far side of the stage to reveal a silky white thong that left little to the imagination. The crowd whistled as Mack turned us sideways, so they had a view of our profiles.

My eyes were on Mack alone. I could see the outline of his cock straining against the thin fabric, and I bit my lip, running my fingers down the ridge it made inside them.

“Why do you have tear-away pants?” I asked, a smile forming on my lips.

“That’s a question for another day,” Mack said, his hips still swiveling slowly. I let my wolf push forward and extended a claw again. The audience gasped as I ran it gently over Mack’s abs, trailing it down to the strap of his thong.

“Are you ready to do this?” I asked, hooking my claw through the fabric.

Mack arched a brow, his eyes flicking downward. “Do you really have to ask?”

I gave a tug, and my razor-sharp claw sliced through the fabric. The thong fell, and the audience whistled as I revealed Mack’s long, smooth cock. Instead of reveling in this the way she had preened with pride when the audience admired me, my wolf pushed forward with aggression. Whoa. I pushed her back, trying to calm her with half-hearted reassurances that I didn’t mind them looking at Mack. The truth was, I sort of did mind. Mack was mine, and I wanted to protect him from their leering gazes.

I looped my arms around his neck and jumped up onto him, wrapping my legs around his hips. The crowd was squirming and restless with anticipation, the scent of their arousal combining until it almost masked mine, even on the stage.