Page 32 of The Satyr's Guilt
A fist popped to Denim’s hip. “I’ll takecare of myself. As always. Thanks for the concern, though.”
****
After the morgue visit, Denimdrew the short straw, teaming up with Ram. They walked their portalassignments in the French Quarter, covering the first three whilethe satyr groused about her being on the mission. He complainedhe’d be spending more time protecting her than doing his job.
“Is there anything you do like about me orhumans?” She reached behind her to tighten her ponytail, bristlingfrom his comments. “Better yet, is there anything you like?”
Ram didn’t even pause to think. “Fighting.Sex with a female. Sex with more than one female. Sex with my hand.Sex while I’m fighting.”
Denim shook her head. “Figures.”
He started spouting shit about how humanswere weak, human females still weaker. He closed off with “Factsare facts.”
Denim gave him the silent treatment for thenext two portals.
As they detoured toward Rampart to catch thenewest Krewe, they dodged a lot of people wearing swag. Since theenthusiasm of the Mardi Pardi was infectious, Denim got intoit.
Caught up in the energy, she paused to waveat passengers on a float. She couldn’t stay angry at the satyr evenif he was a bastard. Galena claimed it was his breed. She said heprobably controlled only ten percent of his assholishness.
When a mini-skirted tramp riding a decoratedflatbed saw Ram, her mouth dropped open. She rotated around, bentforward, and wiggled her ass.
Denim rolled her eyes as the satyr Firebrandshrugged, handily catching beads the besotted, brazen woman tossedat him after she straightened, faced him, and did a littleshimmy.
Tart.
“What’s a satyr to do? She wants me.”
Behind the float was another. The maskedkrewe aboard had strapped dildos to their hips, each covered with ajock warmer. One fur, one velvet, one knit, and another in NewOrleans Saints’ colors. When the vehicle stopped in front of Denim,the guy with the fur accessory waggled his added appendage in herdirection.
Denim popped a fist to Ram’s arm, laughingat the antics. “He’s hung.” She regretted the words immediately,prepared for a barrage of lewd comments.
Ram grinned on cue. He threw a beefy armacross her shoulder. “Doll, you have no idea what hung is. Let’srun a comparison test?” He reached for his zipper.
“Don’t be crude. Keep it in your pants.” Sheslapped at his hand.
“You can’t handle the truth.” He chuckled asif his movie quip was original. And hysterical. “No, that’s wrong.I’ll let you handle it. Stroke it. Lick it. Suck it.”
She wiggled out from under his weighty arm.“Disgusting.”
Ram followed her when she headed toward theportal near Jackson Square.
He caught up and walked alongside, pushingMardi Gras partiers out of his path. “You’re right. I shouldn’thave told you how big I am. My size will just ruin other males foryou. But let’s not forget, you’ve already copped a feel. So youknow.”
Denim couldn’t help it. She dropped her gazeto Ram’s crotch.
He caught her. “Made you look.”
Her cheeks warmed. “I wasn’t looking.”
“Liar.” He pulled her into a doorway awayfrom the crowded street and blocked her in with a forearm on eachside of her head. She was caged between two steel bars.
Denim planted her fists on Ram’s chest andpushed, but he didn’t budge. Her lashes flipped up as she lockedonto his beautiful eyes. She parted her lips, grabbing a fistful ofT-shirt and yanking him toward her. When he dipped his chin,drawing closer, she pressed her mouth to his, tentatively. Heresponded. His tongue swept inside with little effort, plunging inand out as he aligned himself so his arousal pressed into herstomach. Her fingers tangled in his silky, loose hair.
Ram was big. And firm. No lie there.
She melted into the kiss, his hair caressingher hand. His hips ground into her as she moaned.
Before she completely collapsed againstRam’s hot length and succumbed to his numerous charms, she regainedsome control and pulled back. She whispered, “Stop. Please,stop.”
