Page 47 of Her Devils

I attempt to pull away, but my back is pressed against the railing, and I have nowhere to go. “I’m right here, but I should probably go get cleaned up. You made a little mess, and my panties are absolutely soaked.”

The corners of his lips lift in one of those cocky smiles that would look annoying on anyone else but are sexy as fuck on Jameson. “No, you aren’t.”

“Excuse me? I’m so messy that if I’m not careful, I might embarrass myself if your cum starts leaking out of me in the middle of the party.”

His smile widens. “Then make sure my cum doesn’t leak out of you. Keep me inside you, princess. Go back out there, drink, dance, and mingle, and keep that tight little pussy clenched. Every time you squeeze your thighs together, think about how I’m going to sneak into your room later on to put even more cum inside you.”

My heart is beating so hard that I’m worried it might burst out of my chest as he holds me captive with his silver gaze. “You—you’re coming to my room later?”

His hand lifts the hem of my dress like he did earlier, and his fingers press against the soaked lace of my panties, teasing my already throbbing clit. “What do you think tonight’s lesson was about?” He doesn’t wait for an answer. “When I fuck you, you’re mine. Even if Peyton and Channing are right there, waiting for their turns or taking you at the same time as me, the second I come inside you, you’re mine.”

Fuck.

I’m glad the railing is still pressed against my back, because my knees are so weak that I doubt they’d support my weight. “Do you make every woman you fuck walk around with your cum still inside her?”

He lowers his head to whisper into my ear, his lips touching my sensitive skin. “I’ve never come inside anyone else, princess. I’m not crazy. Before our deal, I always used condoms, but our deal is on until we’re crowned world champions, and until then? You belong to me.”

***

Lenley

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IGET BACK TO THE PARTY, still a little unsteady on my legs.

Jameson definitely honors his namesake, and every time I’m with him, his words and kisses go straight to my head.

And they linger.

Just like his hot release, reminding me of his presence inside my body.

You belong to me.

I need a drink. Earlier, the guys ordered cocktails and shots for everyone, and the passing waiters didn’t card me when I grabbed a flute of champagne from a tray, but I feel like I need something stronger to keep my mind from overanalyzing what Jameson just said to me.

He kept mentioning our deal, and that’s what I have to remember. If I drink enough, I’ll stop dwelling on the look in his eyes and how possessive his tone was. I’ll stop trying to make this into more than what it is and just enjoy the hot moments in the Cove Devils’ arms.

Mom and Ken are standing by the outdoor bar, deep in conversation with a guy I recognize from the party Wild Horse threw at our house.

I know Mom doesn’t mind me having a drink as long as I don’t do anything stupid, like drive, and Ken has seen me drink at every party he attended with us and hasn’t said anything indicating he disapproves, but I decide to try my luck at the bar inside. I don’t want to stand next to them while I’m still buzzing from my encounter with Jameson.

And there’s the cum too, I think with a weird mixture of embarrassment and arousal.

As I weave my way back inside the building, my skin prickles with awareness. I feel eyes on me, but I know it’s just the effect of my overstimulated senses—the Jameson effect.

The indoor bar is busy with long lines of partygoers waiting to be served.

I end up standing at the very end, right by one of the stations where the bartenders have all their garnishes.

There’s a man sitting on the last stool with his broad shoulders slightly hunched over his drink. “Len.”

I’m surprised when he turns around.

“Darrius.” I meet his red eyes, then my gaze takes in the displeased line of his lips, his strong neck, and the way the muscles in his chest stretch his button-down shirt.

The corded muscles in his forearms, left exposed by the folded sleeves of his shirt, ripple as he clutches his glass with white-knuckle force.

“What are you doing here?”

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