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Hunter touches Ari’s face, gently running his fingers along her jaw, then uses his fingertips to push her lips open. He pushes one inside and she sucks on it.

“That’s right,” I tell her. “Get him good and wet.”

When he pulls it out, he lowers it between her legs, lining up with my fingers. He moves in a quick motion, sliding in with me and I feel her stretch around the two of us. I hold Hunter’s eye, noticing the tight set of his jaw, and control the pace.

“How’s that?” I ask her.

“Full,” she whispers, licking those thick lips.

“Kiss her,” I tell him. “Let her taste you.”

“Now?” His eyes are on her mouth.

“Jesus Christ.”

He leans forward, finger still working in tandem with mine. He licks his bottom lip and then brushes his over hers. Ari surges up, hand wrapping around his neck, not letting him go.

I watch them, her teeth tugging at his bottom lip, his breath mingling with hers. They’re so close to me, and fuck, it’s so hot. I close my eyes, trying to keep from coming in my pants.

“I’m close,” Ari says, pussy quivering.

Yeah, not yet.

I remove my fingers, dragging Hunter’s out with mine, and bring my fingers to my mouth and lick them clean, savoring her taste.

“You’re not coming on my fingers tonight,” I tell her, eyes flicking to Hunt. “You’re going to come on his cock.”

Arianette turns her head, eyes wide and glassy with need. She looks at Hunter, voice breaking with desperation. “Please don’t say no.”

Hunter stares at her for a long second, chest rising and falling heavily. Then he swallows the rest of his champagne in one go, sets the glass down, and stands. He adjusts the obvious bulge in his jeans, jaw clenched tight with restraint.

Arianette’s voice is breathy, almost frantic. “Where are you going?”

Hunter’s eyes flick between the two of us, dark with hunger but still guarded. “I’ll fuck you,” he says, voice rough. “But not out here. Not like this in the middle of the room.” He looks at her, then at me. “It’s going to be us. Just us.”

Without another word, he turns and starts walking toward the private rooms in the back of the club.

21

Arianette

We walk down the long, dimly lit hallway of Noir Sanctum, the heavy bass of the club music fading into muffled thuds behind us. My gait is funny because I’m still sticky between my legs from Damon’s teasing fingers, and my nipples are tight and aching against the thin fabric of my cardigan. I should be upset at him for edging me in front of all those people and then stopping, but I’m not. I know exactly what he’s doing. And I want it just as badly as he does.

“You think I pushed him too hard?” Damon asks, his large hand warm and steady on my lower back.

We pass several closed doors, soft moans and sharp cries drifting from behind them. I’ve been turned on since we stepped into this club.

“I think he needs to be pushed,” I reply, stopping at the door Hunter disappeared into. “But gently.”

Damon’s lips curve and he leans down and kisses me, slow and deep. His tongue slides against mine, claiming, tasting like champagne and dark promises. For a moment, I lose myself in him–in the way his hand ghosts over my ribs, thumb circling my nipple. Fucking me is easy for Damon. It’s part of how he communicates.

His fingers push under my skirt, brushing over the piercing he put there to claim me. “I’ll do my best to make sure it’s good for you. If it goes too far you let me know. Give me a signal.”

My hips guide into him, chasing those finger tips, but he pulls away, both of us breathing hard. Composing ourselves, we cross the threshold.

Hunter is already inside, standing near the center of the luxurious private room. Low red lighting, a large bed with black silk sheets, a leather chair in the corner, and mirrored panels on one wall. He turns when we enter, eyes burning with frustrated heat.

Damon steps in behind me and shuts the door with a quiet click, sealing us inside.