Page 23 of The Devil In Disguise

All I can do is glare at him. It sounds so simple when he says it.

I didn’t notice that the dancer hopped off the stage until she was kneeling right between my spread legs, gazing up at me with big, honey-brown eyes full of lust and a hint of annoyance. She didn’t like being ignored.

My eyes rove over her pin-straight, black hair and heavy eye makeup, down to her full, red-tinted lips that matched the color of the lace set she is wearing. Something about her mahogany eyes pull me in and I smirk at her.

Turning to Luci, he beats me to the punch. “I’ll leave you to it.” With a final shot, he stands and straightens his jacket, leaving me with the little temptress.

“Someone’s eager, aren’t we?” I say to her in a low, taunting voice.

Her eyes light up. “Yes, sir. I just want a taste.”

“Remove my belt.” I tilt my head down to motion.

Immediately, she complies, tugging my belt loose and pulling my zipper down. I reach down to pull my gun out of the way, eliciting a low gasp below me. Her eyes dart to mine, full of fear before she washes it away. When she manages to free me from my suffocating jeans, her gasp is much more audible.

Cocking an eyebrow, I challenge, “Is there a problem?”

“No, not at all. I just wasn’t expecting the piercings, but it’s kinda hot.” She bites on her lower lip.

Two years ago, Dario and I spent a weekend in Vegas. As we were drunkenly walking to our hotel in the middle of the night, we saw a tattoo parlor that was still open. There were three workers inside, otherwise it was vacant, so we sat for tattoos and they gave us more shots. We all talked nonsense for what felt like hours. Rarely do we get these moments of freedom and anonymity, it was nice.

Before I knew it, Dario and I were both going into a piercing room and I chose the magic cross piercing. I have no idea what Dario ended up getting, but the next morning I felt it there before I could remember anything that happened the night before.

Not that I regret it. I’ve never had a problem reaching that sweet spot inside a woman, but with the piercing, it heightens both their pleasure and mine. The sweet sounds they make when they cry out for me are a bonus in itself.

With one hand on my gun to the side and the other with her hair wrapped around my fist, I guide her mouth up and down my shaft. I thrust all the way in and she moans, sending the vibrations up my core.

“That’s it, you can take more.”

I groan loudly and speed up my thrusts, not breaking eye contact with her watery brown eyes. She bobs her head faster, meeting my increasing pace and I feel my release coiling up tightly at the base of my spine. Sensing my impending climax, she licks and sucks me harder, throwing me over the edge.

And there’s only one face I see when I explode.

“Fuck, Amaris,” I moan.

As soon as I come down from the short high, the realization of what I said drops on me like a bucket of ice.

Her name left my lips.

I stand abruptly, nearly knocking the girl over. Can I have anything to myself without her ruining it? She doesn’t even have to be around me and she still messes with my head.

“Sorry, I can’t do this.” I tuck my dick and gun back inside my pants in record time. Pulling out my wallet, I take out a roll of bills and hand it to her, leaving her standing there fuming.

Luci is right, I’m too stressed for my own good. Now, Amaris is taking over my every thought, but I won’t let her.

Chapter 11

Kylo took me on a drive through Brooklyn Heights this morning, sitting in silence mostly and eating the breakfast he bought for us. It was less awkward than it was peaceful, surprisingly. We arrived at the mall so I can finally get clothes that fit me and are more my style. Somehow, the hospital found my wallet and gave it to Kylo, who pulled it out of his pocket when I first got in the car. The conversation is strained, but when he mentions something about ‘the soldiers’, I perk up.

“Soldiers? Are you talking about los pendejos that train like they are going to be drafted for war at any moment?”

“They do need to be prepared for war. They aren’t weak.”

“I didn’t call them weak, I called them assholes. Makes sense that they work for you.” That has him stopping completely. I don’t notice until I’m a few steps ahead so I turn around and walk back. “Why did you stop?”

“Why do you think my men are assholes?” he asks in a low, menacing voice that has the hairs on the back of my neck rising.

“No reason, I just don’t think they like me very much.” Suddenly feeling silly for what I said, my cheeks heat up and my eyes focus on the very interesting floor tiles. Avoiding eye contact, I rush out, “Well, there’s no time like the present to go shopping. We should go this way.”

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