Page 7 of Stroke of Shadows

“Wait?” Sythe gripped himself harder, his face twisting with pain.

Harper reached for her phone, her pussy touching the tip of his cock. Sythe groaned, his body as solid as a statue beneath her.

“Oh, no!” She scrambled back, quickly pulling her dress back down to below her knees. She ignored the fact she was bare, her underwear nowhere to be seen. “Sorry, I’ve got to go.”

Sythe remained where he was, jaw slack with his hand wrapped around his painfully hard member. “Fuck, are you serious right now?”

Harper pulled him forward for a kiss, nipping at his bottom lip. “Thank you,” she whispered against him before she reached for the latch, squeezing herself through a tiny gap and all but running back towards the bar.

Chapter 2

Sythe

Sythe was very rarely surprised. More than surprised, actually, absolutely fucking flabbergasted. Mysterious girl was one of the hottest things he’d ever seen, uncomfortably standing at the bar with her shoulders so tight he’d thought she’d snap. She looked so innocent, nothing like the women he usually picked up at the bar. Corruptible.

He’d devoured her curves with his eyes, her body soft and oh so fucking biteable, before she’d turned and met his gaze.

Fuck.

His beast had had a damn near heart attack. Full on cardiac arrest. Clearly, he had good taste too, because the urge to fuck her tripled to the point he had to stop himself from storming over there like a barbarian and throwing her over his shoulder.

There was a second of panic, a flash of recognition, quickly purged by the sheer force with which he wanted her. He wasn’t sure what happened with his reaction, having never met mystery girl before, he was sure of it. His beast would’ve known, fascinated with the unique white strips in the brunette of her hair. He couldn’t help himself, watching her skin blush at his words, his confidence and charm something that never failed him.

He had a one hundred percent success rate, except clearly tonight.

What the actual fuck.

The entire situation soured his mood, the taste of his whiskey bland when he sat back down in the private section of the club, roped off with a few round tables and leather armchairs. They’d hired the space alone, but three women had joined his brothers while he’d been busy, all surrounding Lucifer who was sucking in the attention before he turned to Sythe.

“Don’t say it,” Sythe groaned, already knowing exactly what the Daemon was thinking.

“What happened, Sy?” Lucifer chuckled, lounging back as one of the girls, with eyes a little too glassy, sat on his knee, kissing along his jaw. “Couldn’t get it up?” The other two stood behind him, happy to just stroke over his broad shoulders and chest, fingers sinking beneath the rips in his t-shirt.

Xander grumbled a laugh, arms crossed as he warily watched the dancers at the edge of the rope. “Wasn’t it you who couldn’t get it up, Luce?”

Lucifer’s smile dropped. “That was one fucking time, Xee. And she used teeth!”

A couple of feminine giggles, Lucifer returning his attention to the women while flipping Xander the finger.

Sythe sank lower in his chair, resting his head back and closing his eyes. Mysterious girl had fucked with his ritual. He always went out to get drunk with his brothers, find a woman, and fuck her before he went dark. It didn’t matter whether he fucked them alone, in a dingy bathroom, or if he shared with Jax when the bastard was in the mood. He had to fuck someone like some weird bloody superstition, because he wasn’t sure when he’d next get the chance.

It was his final farewell to himself before he went undercover and became someone else.

And she’d ruined it.

“You want to find someone else?” Jax asked, reading the situation like Sythe had a neon sign above his head stating ‘blue balls.’ “Or do you want to ditch early for poker with the others?”

No. He wanted his mystery girl. A woman who’d melted beneath him, her stiffness fading as she whimpered and clenched around his fingers. His name on her lips had been fucking euphoric, and for once he didn’t even care that her nails had dug into his right arm. The pain was there, as it always was when anything touched his bare skin, but he didn’t care, lost in the moment. Lost in her.

Sythe opened his eyes to slits, frustration making him feel heavy. “I think—”

A hand touched his knee, stroking up before he caught it. He held the woman far gentler than he should for someone touching him without permission. She was pretty, blonde rather than brunette like his mystery girl, with lips made to be fucked. And yet, his dick didn’t even twitch.

Fuck the Fates.

“No touching,” he said, releasing her.

Lucifer moved his leg, forcing the woman who sat on him to stand. “Thank you for the company, ladies, but I think it’s time for you to go back to the party.” He gestured towards the rope.

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