Page 62 of Grotesque
A guttural groan left his throat. “Please, Sorcha.” He rolled his thumb harder against my clit.
The way he said my name in time with his touch nearly undid me there and then. If I didn’t stop him now there would be no telling him to quit. “We have to stop.” I took a half step back that was cut off by the iron press of his grip on my thigh. I glared down at him, trying desperately not to roll against his touch again. “Corban.”
His tongue slid between his lips. “I love the way you say my name when you’re panting.”
And I was panting. He was driving me closer to the edge. My nerves were on fire. From his touch, from the thrill that someone might see us. It felt like I would fall out of my skin any second. His fingers worked between the sore sensitive flesh to the point I could hear my own wetness between one song dying and another starting.
His eyes narrowed as mine widened.
“Keep dancing,” he commanded. I shook my head even though I moved my hips to this side and that. I didn’t want to obey and yet I was afraid of what would happen if I didn’t. “Dance until you come. I want my hand glistening, Sorcha.”
“Fuck,” I gasped.
“That’s it.” His fingers worked furiously, stroking hard and fast against the upper ridge of my pussy.
I rolled my hips and moved my arms to the side. I knew the song playing but the only tune I focused on was the bass of our breaths as they deepened and the slick slapping his palm made against my flesh, against my clit, sending in shockwaves through my entire body.
I stiffened and fell forward, my hand slapping down on his shoulder. I dug my nails into his shirt, trying to find purchase on his skin beneath as I came. My hair fell around my face, mercifully concealing it as I let out a silent sound, my mouth gaping in sheer ecstasy.
Corban’s grin was corrupt. He pulled his fingers free and slid them into my mouth. “Taste how ready you are for me.”
I was thankful for the curtain of my hair because I don’t think I could have stopped myself from sucking his fingers clean. I ran my tongue between them until he pulled back and pushed them against the middle of my chest, easing me back. He gave my body an appraising look, starting with my heeled feet all the way to the mess of my hair.
“Let me clean up and let’s go home,” I said before anything else that might damn us both could pass between those beautiful lips, which were parted, no doubt ready to issue another filthy command. “I’ll do whatever you want, let’s just get home first.”
Corban’s brow arched. “Whatever I want?”
I’d probably regret saying that, but I nodded. “Yes. Anything.”
At the lift of his chin I turned and made a beeline for the bathroom. With every step, I could feel the eyes of the bar following me.
The cool touch of the mirror against my forehead grounded me as I leaned over the sink in the single stall bathroom. It stank of piss and cheap perfume. Of spilt beer and fried cheeseballs. None of those things sobered me up enough to dampen the heat that still coursed through my body.
Corban had made me come in a bar full of people. And I had let him.
I took a deep breath as I leaned back to look at myself. My skin was flushed, sweat dotted my hairline and my lips were red and full from where I must have been biting them.
“I’m going to Hell,” I muttered. Or Underland rather, if Corban had his way.
I ran a hand through my hair. I needed to get a hold of myself. Corban had far too much power over me and had set us both ona collision course. We needed to get out of here, I needed to get him to Under, and then Glamis would be all mine.
The final thought sent a nervous tingle through my chest. Did I want Glamis without him?
Two raps on the door broke me out of my thoughts. “Just a minute!” I called. I brushed my hands through my hair again and down my dress as if I could wipe away the freshly fucked look that still glazed my eyes.
I opened the door and stopped dead. Quint threw a quick look over his shoulder before pushing me inside, forcing me back.
“What the fuck are you doing?” I tried to dart around him but he was faster and slammed the door shut, throwing his back against it.
“Sorcha, I need you to listen to me.” He grabbed hold of my shoulders.
“Ow! Quint, that hurts. Let go of me.” I tried to raise my arms to push him away but couldn’t from this angle.
He gave me another hard squeeze that made me wince before letting me go. He threw up his palm. “Just. Listen. Ok?”
I crossed my arms over my chest. “Yeah, outside. Now!”
His eyes snapped to mine. They had a wild look to them that reminded me of an animal caught in a snare. An animal that would bite just to save itself. “I don’t think you’re crazy. I never thought you were. That story I told you about seeing a monster with your grandmother was real.”
