Page 4 of The Lawgiver's Firebrand
“Arrogant much? I might surprise you.”
“I doubt it.”
Ari stopped, drawing away to let her gaze crawl from the tips of his expensive shoes to his thousand-dollar haircut, luxurious, short, a hank tumbling across a brow. It had been snipped to look casually windswept, but the style was purposeful. “Because you’re wearing nice clothes, probably costing more than I make in a month…”
“Six months.”
“Really?”That was cause to pause. “Anyway, just because you overpaid for your pants because they come pre-padded with a humongous dick behind the zipper doesn’t mean I’m trash.” She tried to yank out of his grasp, but he held her tighter.
“We both know what’s poking you is all me. And you’re not trash. You’re…”
Ari lifted a single digit in warning. “Be careful what you say.”
She accepted what he settled on since it was likely true. “You’re simply not my type.”
Breaking free of his clutches, Ari offered him brilliant advice. “Then dance off and find your type. Something frosty with her nose in the air.” Ari swayed, not from the incubus but from too many brews.
Daire lifted his chin, staring down at her. “No.”
Shrugging, she returned to his arms. “In that case, show me your best moves.” A good offense was better than a poor defense. Firebrand 101.
When Daire danced them to a dark corner, he backed her against a wall. “I’m hungry.” His lips curled into a grin.
“Order a tapas tray.” She thought the retort was excellent for someone so tipsy.
Daire stroked a finger along her cheek. “I’d rather sample you.”
“You’re asking permission?”
“No. I’m warning you of my intentions.” He replaced his caressing fingers with light kisses.
Ari tilted her neck, exposing it to his intoxicating nibbles.
He slipped the button on her shorts, unzipping them, sliding a hand inside.
“Hmm.” She wiggled and ground against his palm. Though she should be embarrassed, Ari figured he was shooting incubus pheromones. Besides, Kristina Train’s “I’m Wanderin’” was playing. How could she resist him under these circumstances? Not her fault if she was worked up. “More.”
“You’re a hot, wet mess, witch.”
“I’ve heard that before. Don’t be prosaic.” She moaned when Daire sampled her lifeforce, his cock hardening against her like molten iron plunged into water. She panted.
He began to pleasure her, likely a reward for the feeding. He dragged a finger between her slick folds. Back and forth, stopping on her clit, her tiny swollen bud. “Prosaic?” the incubus lawgiver repeated.
“Hmm.” Her head thrashed from side to side as he pinched and teased. “Yeah. All us Firebrands use seven-letter words to impress.”
Leaving a thumb on her sensitive button, he drove a finger inside her core. “Consider me impressed. More?”
“If it wouldn’t be too much trouble.” Ari rocked forward to drive him on.
When he pulled out and returned with two fingers, he thrust faster and faster, deeper and deeper. “Come for me, witch.”
Before she could scream her release, he captured her lips with his, her cries going unheard in the noisy bar. She whimpered, slinking back against the wall, her knees caving.
Holding her up with his free hand, Daire extracted the other, wiping the moisture on her shorts. “You should zip up now.”
She shook her head as if clearing it. “Wham. Bam. What a guy.” As Ari righted her khakis, she considered how she felt about her lapse of judgment. Did she regret giving in to her slightly drunk lust? Did her lapse have to be with an egotistical incubus? She shrugged.Oh, well.She was celebrating becoming a full-fledged Firebrand.
Hoo-rah.
