Page 148 of Blood & Throttle
She climbs slowly, thighs flexing, glitter catching the low light with every sultry shift of muscle. That tiny pink top—barely more than a glint of fabric and studs—slides up as she arches against the pole, teasing the swell of her breasts. One quick tug and it’s off, tossed to the sticky floor like it never mattered. The straps of her thong cut high across herhips, hugging every curve like they were stitched onto sin itself. She spins, heels catching grip, grinding down the pole in a lazy spiral until she lands on her knees legs spread, ass high, hips rolling slow enough to be a fucking weapon. The shimmer across her skin isn’t just glitter—it’s war paint.
My cock fucking throbs.
She bends forward, dragging her hands slow up the backs of her thighs. Glitter and sweat shimmer against her skin, the straps of that pink thong hugging her hips like sin made flesh. Her ass lifts high, and that tiny scrap of fabric vanishes into the curve like it was stitched for torture. I kiss my teeth again. “You want me feral, don’t you?”
She doesn’t answer, just smirks over her shoulder like the wicked little demon she is.
Sin grips the pole again, bare chest heaving, nipples hard under the flickering blacklight. She arches deep, grinding against the metal like it owes her something. One hand slips between her thighs, pressing that sparkly pink scrap tight to the slick heat already soaking through and fuck if my restraint doesn’t snap a little more.
She moans, soft and filthy.
I growl, low and lethal.
But this time? I’m fucking done. I don’t just watch. I fucking move.
I grab her hard and drag her to the edge of the table, her bare thighs skimming the wood, legs spreading without hesitation. I step between them, fists anchoring on her hips as I drink her in.
She’s still in nothing but that glittering thong, heels strapped on, hair wild around her shoulders. Every inch of her dares me to lose control.
My mouth crashes into hers.
All heat, tongue, and fucking chaos.
She moans, nails biting into my shoulders, lips parting like she wants to swallow me whole.
I kiss her harder, deeper, hand sliding up her back, the other curling around her throat just enough to make her breath hitch.
“You get off on pushing me, stray?” I rasp against her mouth.
She grins, breathlessly. “Little bit.”
I chuckle low, biting her lip before dragging it between my teeth. “That thong’s not surviving the next five minutes.”
“Didn’t plan on keeping it anyway,” she purrs.
I lean in, voice dark and filthy. “Tell me how wet you are.”
“Dripping,” she whispers, hips rolling slow against the hard line of my cock. “Want proof?”
I growl, grinding into her. “I’ll find out myself.”
Her lashes flutter, and she smirks. “Of course you will.”
I kiss her again, harder this time while my hands slide under her thighs, spreading her wider, claiming what’s mine.
I hungrily kiss my way down her body, burning every inch into my memory. Her skin’s still hot from the dance, a sheen of sweat catching the leftover neon like goddamn warpaint. I drop to my knees between her thighs, eyes locked on that little scrap of glitter and lace she calls a thong.
"My turn to make you beg," I mutter, voice rough with hunger. "Hold still."
I hook my fingers into either side of the thong, then rip in one brutal motion, tearing it down the middle like it insulted me. The pieces hit the floor without a sound.
She gasps, thighs twitching, and hips lifting instinctively. Her pussy glistens in the low light, wet and flushed, slickalready dripping down her thighs like she’s been aching for this since the second she walked in.
I lean in, burying myself between her legs with no fucking mercy. I don’t just taste her—I fucking consume her. I run my tongue through her folds, slow and firm, then seal my mouth over her clit and suck until her hips buck off the edge of the table.
She tastes like salt and sex. Adrenaline and chaos. Like the fucking aftermath of a war I’d gladly start again just to win her.
Her thighs clamp around my head, heels digging into the booth cushion behind me, but I don’t let up. One arm hooks under her leg to hold her open, the other slides behind her, fingers digging into her ass, anchoring her to my mouth.
