“Then up your game, Dragneel,” I challenge as I walk toward the door. It automatically opens before I look back at him over my bare shoulder. “This card mage twists fates. Consider your bank account’s fate in my hands this evening. The ball ends in six hours. So does my offer.”
Chapter Four
Game On
Dragneel
Tonight just turned into my worst fucking nightmare. Or maybe it’s my wettest dream. I knew the mage was hiding the dagger. I also knew she wouldn’t give it up quickly. What I didn’t realize was how smart she would be. Eternal magic weapons pull in a shitload of cash on the black market. Enough that I’d never have to take another job. Fuck the card mage and her childish games.
I growl in frustration as I watch the sexy-as-fuck woman stride out of the room like the cube is her own personal runway. Damn, she is too small for this big world. Too beautiful. Too dangerous. Katya’s outer shell is as hard as hell. And, if we’re honest, under that short dress, she probably has bigger balls than I do. But someone forgot to warn her who she’s dealing with.
There is one thing that irks me more than anything: I don’t like to be played with.
And this little stunt that she is pulling, well, it doesn’t fucking sit well with me.
I push to my feet and follow her out of the cube without ever taking my eyes off of her. She walks toward the railing of the loft and places both ring-covered hands on top, looking down.
Briefly, my focus shifts to an all-American guy wearing a suit and tie and a girl with bright green eyes and dark brown hair. They eye the glowing chairs before deciding against sitting in them and continue their walk up toward the stairs that lead to the stage area where the band is.
Composing myself, I return my attention back to Katya, taking her in, inch by inch, until I get the effect I want out of her. Her back stiffens, knowing I’m watching her. She shifts her weight from one hip to the other, swinging her long hair over her shoulder. I study her with a predatory glare. The way she’s fidgeting, I can tell I make her nervous, but not because she is scared of me. I cock my head to the side. She doesn’t fear me. I can’t recall the last time that happened.
Her red nails tap on the railing, her attraction and unease coming off her in waves.
She wants me to find the card.
All right. I will.
Little does she know her attraction to me is about to help me beat her at her own game.
Katya turns back to face me, and we lock eyes. A raw, agonizing burn fills her gaze. It triggers an unspoken connection in me brought on by the darkness that I fucking love so much. I smile at her, arching an eyebrow as I slowly take a calculated step in her direction, unsure what I am trying to accomplish, just knowing that her attraction to me is the key to me finding the card.
For a moment, she looks around like she is trying to escape the situation she is in.
I realize I make her feel vulnerable and out of control.
She hates it.
I fucking love it.
Katya doesn’t strike me as someone who follows directions. So dominating her is out of the question. But making her feel unsettled? That I can do in my fucking sleep. Not faltering, I take a step into her personal space, my six-foot-four stance looming over her petite frame—even in heels. A sudden flush presents itself on her cheeks. It’s subtle. No one would notice, but I do.
The mage doesn’t cower. If anything, she stands taller in challenge. I reach for a piece of her dark hair, twirling the strand around my finger. Red streaks shine through the silky black pieces. Her breath hitches, and her eyes dilate when I release the section of hair and instead brush my knuckles along her pink-hued cheek, enjoying the feeling of her soft skin against my own.
“I thought the dagger was your endgame tonight. Not me,” she whispers.
“You became my endgame as soon as you tempted and challenged me.”
Her eyes dart around us, but no one is paying any attention to what we’re doing.
I lean down, capturing her eyes again. “I think I make you wet. Should I check?”
Her lips part as she tells me yes with her eyes and body language. “Cocky much?”
The words are barely out of her mouth when I press into her, pushing her against the railing, pinning her with my hips as my mouth comes down hard against hers. In surprise at my sudden assault, her plum-flavored lips open, and I take advantage of the motion, slipping my tongue into her mouth. This kiss isn’t gentle. It isn’t meant to be. It’s fierce. Frantic. Frenzied. Hard.
In a split second, it becomes all-consuming. I know I’m fucked, because when I release her mouth, my body becomes cold again, empty and alone. That dark, desperate thought grips me.
She grabs the back of my neck, as she presses herself against me, needing more. My hands glide up the back of her bare thighs, inching toward her ass, which is barely fucking covered by her tiny black dress. One of my hands skims around the front of her body, sliding between us, resting on her bare thigh where the hem of her dress rests. I feel her skin pebble under my touch, causing me to get hard. I want her. Right here and now. And fuck, I don’t care who might be watching or who might come along while I am buried deep inside of her. I let my hand move up her leg, taking her dress up with the slow motion. When I get to the top of her thigh, I realize just how uninhibited she is.
There is no material.
No seam of pretty panties.
Just bare, soft skin.
“So fucking sexy,” I rasp out.
“We should go somewhere more private,” she whimpers.
“Not a fucking chance.” I slide my mouth across her cheek, kissing it softly before whispering in her ear, “Right here with the sound of the bass vibrating through us works for me.”
The thrill of doing something usually done behind closed doors out here in the open adds to the rush of anticipation. Shifting my head, I meet her eyes and search for a sign of hesitation or protest. There is none. Not even when I nudge her knees apart so I can get my hand between her legs. Katya is up for the challenge, which makes her my kind of playmate.
She shifts and bites down on her lower lip to stifle a gasp as my fingers find her damp center. Her body is slick and hot, her wet folds ready to welcome my anxious fingers. I slip them inside of her and flick them back and forth as her body quivers under my touch. She tilts her hips forward, toward me a little, muttering something under her breath. I lean down and sink my teeth into the bare flesh of her exposed shoulder, which causes her to drop her head back with a moan.
After teasing and torturing her, I pull my wet fingers out of her dripping folds and suck them. Her gaze quickly becomes heavy-lidded and filled with desire. Knowing she’s close, I reach under her dress again and circle her clit with measured strokes, quickly placing my mouth over hers to swallow her cries of pleasure. She grinds against me as I toy with her clit, her body heating and pulsing around me. Her thighs shake, and I hum in approval. The laughter and music around us fall away; all I focus on is how close she is to coming and how hard my cock is.
I give her clit one last slow circular rub followed by a quick flick, and she comes, hard. After a few moments, she composes herself, blinking out of her orgasmic daze. With a wicked smirk, I remove my hand, and like a gentleman, I readjust the hem of her dress. Once she’s steady, I take a step back. Panting, she watches me, part confused and part still turned on, wondering why I stopped. I push my shoulders back, jerking away from her, hoping like fuck she doesn’t suddenly get any unrealistic expectations about us, or what this was, in her head. Mages and wizards are possessive motherfuckers when it comes to mating. My fate won’t be sealed that way. Ever.