Page 28 of Magpie
He continues to run his hands through my hair, working out more of the tangles from our night together. “You look better without it,” he answers, his voice just as husky as I remember.
I stare at him for a long time as he continues meticulously brushing my hair with his fingers. Those roaming tattoos shift over him, the skeletal frame gracing his skin with each shift of light. I push away from him, moving to sit up, but his arm stays around my middle, not letting me get far.
“Alister—” I begin to say, but he cuts me off.
“Is most likely still busy with the others.” Both of his arms curl around me, tugging me back to bed, drawing me back to his chest.
“What about Horns?” I ask as he continues his grooming of my hair. He pauses, and then lets out a bright burst of laughter.
“Do you mean Tabitha? If I know her, she is still playing.” He chuckles, his breath hot against the back of my neck. “Horns,” he snorts, his chest rumbling with laughter. I twist again, turning so I can look at him, and he finally stops brushing my hair. Curling an arm under his head, he studies me with those deep red eyes.
“Who are you?” I ask. I should be horrified to think of the events of last night—what I did, and how I did it with two complete strangers. Yet I’m not. It didn’t feel wrong. It felt like being involved in something powerful, something binding.
“I’m Sean,” he answers, pulling me closer, and I feel his cock throbbing, growing hard as our bodies touch. His eyes light up as he grins at me. “What name did you give me?”
“What?” I ask, finding it hard to concentrate with the firm length of him pressed against me.
“You called Tabitha ‘Horns,’ so what did you call me?”
I scowl, blood rushing to my cheeks in embarrassment at his teasing, before snapping my mouth firmly shut and glaring athim. He grins at my defiance, but tugs me closer and presses his hips firmly against mine, nearly pulling a moan from my stubbornly closed lips. “There’s still plenty of night left, pretty bird. Care to dance with me again?”
“I should go,” I mutter, pushing suddenly away from him and scrambling to the edge of the bed. Whatever confidence I felt last night is waning, and I’m desperate to be away from him and his all-too-enticing touch.
I dart my eyes around the room and see the ruined and ripped slashes of my dress. I grimace, wondering if I can somehow wrap it around me enough to let me get back to my room.
“Here, allow me,” Sean says, the bed dipping as he stands. He walks in front of me, his naked body on full display, and I feel myself throbbing at the sight of him.
He leans down, scoops his discarded dress shirt off the ground, and walks back to me. I reach out to take it. It’ll be massive on me—he’s exceedingly tall—but it will be better than scurrying to my room naked.
He grins, holding the shirt back and crooking a finger at me. “Come here.”
Fuck me. The sound of his voice is like listening to puresin. I swallow hard and stand on shaky legs. I can’t help but notice the soreness in my core, and one look at the cock between his legs has my eyes widening. How did I fit that in me?
I must have my thoughts clearly written across my face, because he lets out another gruff chuckle, the sound doing nothing to help my growing need. “Arms up, pretty bird,” he croons, and I do as he instructs. He growls when he sees my breasts swelling with the movement, and I notice his cock twitch before he pulls the shirt over my head, cutting off the sight. I was right: the shirt is far too big for me, trailing well down my thighs, the sleeves falling limply over my hands.
“Thank you,” I say, my voice breathy, before I turn and rush to the door. I don’t look back, knowing that if I do, I will probably tumble back into that bed with him.
I pad across the cold stone floor, noticing the endless bass beat has quieted. In the absence of the music, I can hear loud moans coming from behind several of the doors. Leaving the circular room and its many doors behind, I make my way silently through the halls of the twisted dungeon. A few sleeping bodies are spread across the various couches and chairs, and several are huddled together in quiet conversation. I move past them all, pushing the maroon door open and stepping into the stairwell.
I make it up the first few stairs before I feel a presence. Stopping, I whip around and find him a few stairs behind me.
“Are you following me?” I ask, incredulous. A look down shows at least he has pants on.
“You’re the one who wanted to change locations,” he says, taking several more steps until he is standing on the same stair as me. I have to tilt my head back to hold his gaze.
“I’m going back to my room. I didn’t say you could follow.” I try to sound forceful, but my voice comes out far more sultry than I intended.
“Oh, pretty bird, it doesn’t work that way. You chose to spend the ritual with me. We’re not done untilheis.”
He takes a step toward me. I’m instantly pressed against the wall behind me. I fumble for the railing, grabbing it and hoisting myself up several more steps before I whip around to watch him. His arms are behind his back, and he is climbing the stairs one at a time.
“What about Horn—Tabitha?” I lob back. “I don’t see her following after me like a lost puppy.”
“I prefer to think of myself as a hellhound,” he says, flashing that crooked smile at me as I continue to retreat, and hecontinues to eat up the space between us. “She’s busy at the moment, I’m sure.”
“I’m not interested in whatever this ritual is. Last night was fun, but—”
“Fun?” He chuckles, stopping his advance as I come to the landing of the stairs. “Pretty bird, last night was a goddamn revelation and you know it. Now, as I said, the ritual isn’t done, and neither are we.”
