Page 18 of Virgil's Demons

"Barythaya," I rasped, my throat dry. I couldn't tear my gaze away from her. "I… I need you to ink me."

She raised an eyebrow, standing up and walking around the counter with slow, deliberate steps. The way her body moved, the way her hips swayed, the sight of her perfect round ass inthose tight black leggings made my pulse hammer in my chest. She was temptation personified, and I was powerless against it.

"You have something in mind?" she asked, her voice low, seductive. She stood so close now, her breath ghosting over the bare skin of my chest.

I shook my head, unable to speak for a moment, my mind too wrapped up in the scent of her, the feel of her presence against mine. "No," I finally managed. "Anything you want. Put whatever you want on me."

Her eyes darkened, a flash of something dangerous and alluring in their depths. Without another word, she gestured toward the chair, and I moved without hesitation. My body felt like it was humming with need, every nerve ending alive, sensitive to her nearness. I sat down, feeling the cool leather against my skin, my pulse thundering in my ears.

She approached me slowly, her fingers trailing over my arm, sending jolts of electricity through me. I clenched my jaw, trying to keep my composure, but the way she touched me—light, teasing—made it impossible.

Barythaya didn't speak. She didn't need to. This wasn't about words. This was a dance, a silent, sensual exchange of energy. I watched her as she prepared the needle, her movements precise and controlled, but there was something in her eyes, a flicker of desire that mirrored my own.

She found a spot at the top of my arm and when she pressed the needle to my skin, the pain was immediate, sharp, but it was nothing compared to the fire that spread through me. Her touch was intoxicating, each stroke of the needle pulling me deeper into the heat between us. My cock became rigid, obvious to her eyes. My breathing became ragged, my body tense with a need that was quickly spiraling out of control.

"Relax," she murmured, her breath warm against my neck. Her voice sent a shiver down my spine, and I closed my eyes, trying to focus on the pain, to use it as an anchor.

But all I could think about was her. The way her fingers grazed my skin, the way her body leaned so close to mine that I could feel the warmth radiating off her. Her plump breasts were pressed against my forearm, and I longed to taste them. My hand twitched at my side, aching to reach out, to pull her into me, to taste her.

I opened my eyes and found her staring at me, her lips parted slightly, her eyes locked on mine. There was something primal in the way we looked at each other, a hunger neither of us could ignore.

She was a magnet, and I was drawn to her, powerless to resist.

"What are you doing to me?" I whispered, my voice rough, filled with need.

"I could ask you the same?" She whispered, her mouth, just a few inches away from mine.

I swallowed hard, my heart pounding in my chest. Whatever game we were playing, I didn't care anymore. I just needed her. Now.

Without thinking, I reached out, grabbing her wrist, pulling her closer. She didn't resist, her body pressing against mine, her breath hot against my lips. The moment our skin touched, it was like a fire ignited between us.

She also felt the sharp, electric jolt of our connection, her head falling back as I pulled her over me. Every nerve in my body was alive, aching for more. I held her wrist tightly, feeling her pulse quicken under my grip, and I pulled her even closer until her breath was mingling with mine, our lips so close they could almost touch.

"Barythaya," I rasped, my voice hoarse with the strain of holding myself back. I wanted to devour her. The heat between us was unbearable. She didn't flinch, didn't pull away. Instead, she looked at me with those dark, dangerous eyes that promised everything I craved but knew I shouldn't take.

"You want something from me?" she whispered, her voice low, almost teasing as her lips grazed the edge of my jaw. My breath hitched, my hand tightening around her wrist, feeling the pulse of her blood beneath my fingers.

Her scent was warm and sweet, slightly intoxicating. It filled my senses, clouding my thoughts. I was past the point of reason. She knew it too. The way she leaned into me, the curve of her body fitting against mine as if she had been crafted just for me. She was my temptation, better than sin, better than any sweet I’ve ever craved, and I wasn’t about to resist her.

"You don't know what you're doing," I muttered, but even as I said it, I knew it was a lie. She knew exactly what she was doing.

Her lips curled into a wicked smile. "Oh, I think I do."

Before I could respond, she shifted, her hands sliding up my chest, her nails grazing my skin through the fabric of my shirt. I sucked in a sharp breath, heat pooling in my core, and her hips shifted, straddling me and sliding her core against my rigid cock. I wasn't hiding it anymore, and she knew it as she leaned in, pressing her lips to the side of my neck. My body tensed, my muscles coiling tight, ready to explode.

Her lips were soft but firm, each kiss sending waves of desire crashing over me. I groaned low in my throat, my grip on her wrist loosening just enough for her to pull away slightly.

"Careful, beautiful. This game we're playing won't end well."

Her body pressed firmly against mine, and I could feel every curve, every inch of her heat radiating through the thin layers of our clothes.

She met my eyes, her gaze intense, challenging. There was a hunger there, dark and sensual, like she was daring me to take control, to give in to the need that was consuming me. And I wanted to. God, how I wanted to.

But there was something else lurking beneath the surface. Something darker, more dangerous.

"Please play with me," she moaned.

I shifted beneath her, my hands sliding to her hips, gripping her tightly. "This is not playing, Barythaya. If I take you, I'll fucking own you."

---