Page 17 of The Satyr's Guilt
Denim leaned back in her chair, her armscrossed. When Ram stared at her breasts, she shifted positions,folding her hands around her beer bottle. “I’m a great shot.”
“Guns are illegal on Scath.”
“I’m good at Muay Thai.”
“The martial art. So, you like mat work? I’min favor of perfecting my skills on a mat.”
“Besides twisting my words, what are yougood at?”
“I’m good with my hands.” Scooting in closerand brushing her hair aside, Ram stroked her cheek.
Denim flinched when he touched her scar.“Don’t.”
“Does it bother you?”
“Yes.” She covered it again.
“It makes you more beautiful. The scars onthe inside are the ones you have to worry about. What if I touchyou here?”
What did he know about scars? He wasperfect. She didn’t bother to tell him because she was busyresponding to his caresses.
He traced Denim’s mouth, his knees brushingagainst hers.
She parted her lips and licked his finger.Crap. She’d not meant to do that. At least she stoppedbefore drawing it into her mouth and giving it a workout.
His eyes flashed green.
He continued to vex her by traveling downher chin and along her neck, leaving a trail of fire. He pausedabove the swell of her breasts, lowering his voice until it was araspy whisper. “I’d start here.”
Denim moaned and arched into his touch.Before he dipped into her shirt, she shook off his effect andgrabbed his hand. “Hold on, pretty boy.”
His thigh rubbed against hers. “Are yousure? I can make you feel great.”
Swallowing the dry lump in her throat, shehad no doubt. “Are you doing something to me? Somethingsatyr-like?”
“Nope, doll. Clouding a female’s mind is nobetter than rape in my book. I believe in consent. This is pureseduction. No breed tricks.”
Denim was tongue-tied. The thought ofgetting down and dirty with the satyr made rational words race outof her brain, stumbling all over themselves. She flipped a hand,indicating he should back away. “No more touching.”
To his credit, he obliged. The two sat forsome time in a painful silence, sipping on their beers.
“If I can’t stroke your delicious skin orlick you until you scream my name, it’s going to be a long night.You might as well tell me your story. Why choose a job where you’rein danger of being toe-tagged? Another beer?”
“Sure.” She could use something cold.
He held up two fingers for the waitress.
“I like to kill assholes.” She let her gazeslide up his muscled body. “Mostly men. Mostly men with egos likebig balloons full of hot air and gas just waiting to bepricked.”
He leaned back in his chair, spreading hisknees wide. “I do have a noticeably big ego. For a reason. Want toknow what else is big?”
Fast and without a brain in her head, Denimgrabbed his crotch, squeezing it until he moaned. She yanked herhand away and swallowed a quick drink. “I’ve felt bigger.”
When she giggled, she smacked her palm overher mouth.
“Gotta tell ya, doll, that’s not thereaction my cock usually gets.”
“Sorry. I was picturing you in a Speedo.Private joke.” Marta would understand it.
