Page 49 of The Devil's Pawn

Her eyes are streaked red, matching that drink. It shouldn’t make me this damn happy to know how excited she is to see me, but it does.

“Are you drunk?” My voice slithers with irritation.

“No?” she giggles, taking the glass to her lips and downing the contents before looking back at me. “Maybe a little?”

What is she thinking? Why the hell would she get drunk all alone without me? These might be my men, but they’re still strangers and she’s a gorgeous woman—a drunk-as-fuck gorgeous woman. A woman I practically fucked in front of some of them.

The thought steels my cock. I want to repeat that again, except right here this time. If she were sober, I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off of her.

She’s damn sexy dancing up there. I should’ve been watching the cameras tonight. I can’t expect the men to call me just because she decided to fucking drink and dance in tiny jean shorts and a tight-ass shirt.

“How many drinks did you have?” I grate out, my palm itching to teach her a lesson.

“More…a lot. A few.” She giggles again like this is somehow funny, her feet unsteady as she shuffles around.

“Get your ass down here, Raquel. You’re about to fall right through the goddamn table.”

“I’mmm having bun.” Her eyes widen with a curl of her lips. “I meant fun.” She laughs hysterically.

“I’m putting you to bed. You’re drunk. Get down, or I’ll make you. You don’t want that.”

She frowns. “Mmm. Why so serious, husband? Maybe you want a dance?”

“No.” I tame my wild heart, wanting more than anything to flip her over my shoulder and bring her upstairs.

But instead, I wait to see where she plans to take this.

“That’s too bad, ’cause I feel like dancing again,” she says, drenched in sensuality.

The song changes, and her eyes lands on mine with a sultry expression. She doesn’t move at first. Her chest swells with harsh breaths while her eyes slide to my lips, and then lower until they land on my dick.

Fuck.

My cock jerks, needing more than just her eyes. Needing all of her. Those lips wrapped around it. That body, mine for the taking.

I can’t tear my attention away from her. I’m compelled to look into those large, hypnotizing eyes.

And then her body moves.

She sways her hips side to side, her gaze still locked on mine as she dips lower, her hand slinking down in between her tits.

Where the hell did she learn to move that way?

The empty martini glass rests in her hand as she gyrates. The lyrics of the song are pure sin; the thoughts of what I want to do to her are probably illegal.

She rights herself, her body unable to let go of the beat, drowning in the music as she gives me her back. Her long, black hair is up high in a ponytail I’d very much like to wrap around my wrist while ramming inside her from behind.

My hard-on throbs while I watch her, not wanting to disturb the sight before me. It’s like my own private show.

Her hands fall to her hips, slowly lifting the thin fabric of her black tank top up a little bit at a time, until my eyes fill with her bare skin. She pulls it up higher, her bra strap visible now, right before she lets the shirt drift down to the floor. I suck in a breath, my heart pounding in the wake of my hunger, the music sounding louder…or maybe it’s my own damn pulse.

I can practically see the edge of her round ass peeking through those shorts. The desire to sink my hand under them, to thrust my fingers inside her like I did at the pool, is all I can think about.

She pivots toward me with the corner of her lower lip trapped within her teeth and her nipples hardened in the confines of the see-through bra she’s wearing, the one I bought her. She’s no longer dancing; the song has now switched to another.

“Did you like my dance?”

Her chest rocks with the tremble of her breaths. And my eyes try to stay glued to hers, but they wander to those perfect breasts instead. The ones I want to feel in my hands and taste on my tongue.

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