Page 2 of Amethyst and Iron
I wasn’t exactly tapping into my darkest—or dirtiest—predilections. I couldn’t allow that without trust being built first. It wasn’t something suitable for a one-night stand like that which I was engaging in now.
But I was definitely blowing off steam.
And if Nathanial gnawed at my crown one more time as he took my cock like a very good boy as I slammed brutally down his throat, I was going to blow in a whole other way.
Ana’s thighs shook, right on the verge of coming, her cries melding with the bass-heavy music coming from just beyond the velvet curtain out on the main floor.
I sucked her clit into my mouth and she clawed at the chaise, shredding it as she came. An easy magical fix from the staff when they cleaned the room up before the next patrons slinked inside.
She tried to buck away from the oversensitivity, but I held her to me as I took her higher and higher until she collapsed on her front, her legs giving out.
I chuckled as I eased back and watched her twitching and gasping, gloriously satisfied.
I angled my fingers deep within Nathanial just as he scraped his teeth over my crown, the two of us basically shooting off at the same time, him coming on the fabric, and me filling his eager mouth until he choked with it.
As the two of them collapsed onto the chaise, I pushed off it, cleaning myself with a burst of my magic, then snatching my pants up off the floor and pulling them on.
I took in the space. All glittering maroon and gold walls, sleek sophistication but with a relaxed edge. There was a circular bed over in the corner, plush crimson with embroidered cushions, a bathroom over on the other side. The chaise we’d just been on—after also fucking around on the bedbeforehand for a couple of rounds. And then there were the white marble cabinets containing a whole lot of fun tools like whips, chains, gags, dildos, vibrators, that sort of thing.
“Where are you going?” Nathanial asked as he played with Ana’s purple spiky hair. His long, golden hair was fucking wild from me fisting it as he’d worked my cock like a deep throating champ.
“Thank you for a good time. Enjoy the rest of your night,” I told them both.
With a flick of my magic, I finished dressing, putting on my black shirt, buttoned halfway, along with my hooded leather trench coat.
And then I swept out of there, pushing the velvet curtain aside, and heading back into the heart of things, making a beeline for the bar.
Golden chandeliers hung from the ceilings, along with cages housing erotic dancers in shimmering outfits performing a blend of sensual moves and impressive acrobatics. Balconies draped in velvet wrapped around the second level which contained viewing boxes. Beings chilled in plush booths playing voyeurs to the grinding and sexual activity taking place on the dance floor below while they sipped from their drinks. The dance floor was packed as it had been all night, a slow bump and grind happening now as I made my way along the edge of it to the long marble-topped bar in the distance. The tables, chairs, and booths beyond were a deep violent and crimson, tufted and dripping with luxury.
I found a spare stool right at the far end of the bar and settled myself as one of the suited bartenders took my order.
Not seconds later and my glass of enchanted Scotch that gave an extra kick to supernatural beings was slid across the top toward me.
I caught it in my hand and gave the vampire a chin lift, before he went to serve many more patrons gathered around. Thank goodness for vampiric stamina—and speed.
My drink went down warm and welcome, the perfect chaser to some fucking.
I was just a few sips deep when I felt a shift in the air.
“Enjoying your night, necromancer?”
A shadow fell over me in the very next moment, and I turned my head to see an unknown figure eyeing me with an intensity that I didn’t care for.
He wanted something from me.
And not the only thing I’d come here to give.
Duty calls, motherfucker.
He just continued staring at me, albeit giving me time to do the same and take in his ill-fitting beige suit—the collar spread over the lapels, the whole thing clearly out of the seventies. Yet he was also wearing a top-of-the-line, very modern Rolex. A contradiction indeed. As he flipped his long black hair, I read his magical signature. Sorcerer.
“State your name and your intent, or leave my vicinity.”
“Don’t take kindly to loiterers, huh?”
“I don’t take kindly to unknowns in my space. Not to mention, it’s my night off.”
“Believe me, you’re going to want to raincheck that leisure and debauchery.”
