Page 27 of Lucky or Knot
The bed gave an almighty creak and jounce as Raven suddenly writhed, legs wrapping around me, pushing us up off the bed with shocking strength. We flipped and rolled, my headslamming down on the pillow and Raven straddling my hips, hands pinning my shoulders.
Well, not pinning, exactly. In a pinning position, more like, without enough force behind it to hold me.
If I’d had the slightest interest in fighting him off.
Sprawled out spread-eagled with Raven breathing hard above me, leaning down with wild eyes gazing at me, and his peach of an ass resting on my massively erect cock…no, I wouldn’t be resisting.
“Don’t move,” he said, and licked his lips in a way that riveted my attention and accomplished his goal of freezing me in place, paralyzed with lust. “You’re right, I should take care of my own clothes. You’re too clumsy, and I don’t trust you. You couldn’t even take off stripper pants without falling down.”
Apparently I’d be getting that private dance I’d teased myself by imagining the other night at the club.
My eyes nearly rolled back in my head.
“Are you going to show me how it’s done?” I asked breathlessly, in lieu of something more likely to make him change his mind, like defending myself or pointing out that he was going to dance for me after all. Smugness would make him dig in his heels. Arguing would derail his intention to strip. But a challenge. This was, after all, the guy who’d used to play fairy truth or dare. In other words, an easy mark, once you knew what buttons to press. “I’ve been stripping for years. That was a fluke. I doubt you can do better.”
His eyes narrowed. “You’re not very subtle,” he said. “But of course I can do better. And if you touch me, I’ll stop.”
Before I could ask for some clarification on the no touching, he let go of my shoulders and shifted his weight, pressing down on my cock.
He reached up and whipped the hair tie out of his ponytail, dropping it carelessly and tilting his head back andforth to shake out his shiny black mane. Crossing his arms over his front, he started tugging up the hem of his shirt, simultaneously gyrating his ass on my cock and continuing with more of those hair-tossing motions.
It should’ve been cheesy or ridiculous.
It so, so fucking wasn’t.
Raven didn’t need music or a beat, and he didn’t need colored spotlights, and he didn’t need body oil or glitter. His body rippled like water, his skin and hair gleamed rose and white and as glossy black as his namesake, and the mundane background of dim hotel room lamps and the rattle of the heater just made his otherworldly beauty stand out even more. My breath’s rhythm grew harsher and deeper, his lighter and faster, and the two wound around each other and made their own music, punctuated by the faint creak of the bed as Raven twisted, putting his weight on one knee and then the other.
Keeping my hands to myself didn’t take as much effort as I’d expected. Of course, my claws embedded five or six inches into the mattress helped. I’d need another high-interest loan to pay off the damages to the hotel room, but I didn’t care, couldn’t care about anything except the way Raven had pulled the shirt up enough to expose the dip of his waist, the line of his ribs, so that he could trace a circle around one pale-pink nipple with the tip of his finger.
And then across, trailing his hand over his chest and flicking the other nipple, raising it to a tiny, pebbled peak.
Even mostly clothed, with only his stomach and chest exposed, he was more erotic than any fully naked stripper I’d ever watched perform.
From my angle, the ridge in the front of my jeans looked like Mount Everest—and felt like it, my eyes starting to water from the discomfort of having my cock trapped for so long. Raven swayed, flexed, and finally,finallypulled the shirt all theway up, whipping it over his head after doing something quick and tricky to that collar, flinging it aside with a toss of his mass of black hair. It settled around his shoulders like a silk curtain.
I stared up at him, gaping like an idiot—and for the sake of my dignity, hopefully not actually drooling.
Raven smiled, eyes alight, and ran his hands down from his throat to the waistband of his pants.
“Well?” he asked. “What do you think of my skills?”
“Ungh,” I groaned, my tongue practically hanging out. “Fuck.”
With a saucy wink, he rolled off of me, flipping his legs around so quickly I couldn’t follow his motion. He landed next to the bed as lightly as a cat, fingers already busy with his button and zipper.
When he started to lean down to work on his boots, I rasped, “Turn around for that. Pro tip.”
Raven peeked up at me through his hair. “You won’t keep your hands off if I turn around. I told you, I don’t trust you.” His flashing grin took the sting out of the words. And a moment later he’d peeled off the pants and boots at least as quickly and gracefully as one of the Lucky or Knot guys with our specially designed easy-off outfits, and was climbing back onto the bed completely bare.
His cock stood fully erect, glistening at the tip, exactly as pretty and perfectly proportioned as I remembered.
Which did I want more, that in my mouth, or his mouth on my own cock? Both at once wouldn’t work well with our height difference. One at a time. Except that clearly wasn’t what he had in mind, because he settled himself over me again, knees wedged against my hips, his ass resting on my thighs. If I reached out and lifted up his balls, I could see that lovely tight hole. Or I could pinch his nipples, make him squirm…
“Fuck, can I—”
“No,” he said, cutting me off firmly and categorically. “No.”
When he reached for my cock, he had a bottle of lube in the other hand. As if he’d conjured it out of nowhere. Fairies, Christ. He probably had.
