Glistening male muscle, pulsing veins, the smell of sex. Glassy hands on her skin, under her skirt, those slender green thighs spread around the bastard’s hips.
Fucking her. Biting those lovely breasts. Making her squeal, first that light breathy cry Vincent knows so well, and then a deeper, more throaty sound that made him shiver and ache. Last time they were together, he almost told her he loved her.
His eyeballs burn, and swiftly he blinks so he won’t embarrass himself any more. Hell, for all he knows, she faked it all along.
“Oh, dear. Is that fresh-cut grass I smell?” Delilah saunters up, tossing crisp winedark curls over an elegant brown shoulder. Her slinky dress glitters in rainbow lights, showing off her curvaceous hips, the deep cleft between her breasts glistening like warm chocolate.
Joey’s demon princess. Beautiful, cunning, a royal pain in the ass. Vincent tilts his glass to finish his bourbon, ice stabbing cold on his teeth. The liquid aches as it goes down, and burns in his stomach like guilt. He throws her a sarcastic smile. “Never liked her that much anyway.”
Delilah purses sexy brown lips and strokes his hair, sultry. “Obviously. But you can hardly blame her, I suppose. He’s richer than you, right?”
He never knows if she’s teasing him or pulling moves. Her ashen scent angers him, and his hard-on isn’t helping. He adjusts himself, aching, trying not to stare at that stunning cleavage. “Wouldn’t know.”
“More powerful. Girls like power, d’you think?”
“I guess.” He clenches his fingers around the glass, itching to punch her annoying face. If he doesn’t react, she’ll get bored and walk away.
“Better looking?”
“If you say so.” His pulse aches. He doesn’t give a fuck what Delilah thinks of him. Her meaningless taunts shouldn’t hurt. But they do.
“Oh, I say so.” Delilah eyes him slyly, and leans in to whisper. “Doesn’t he make you want to touch? I mean, those sweet glassy muscles? That tight ass? Hell, he makes me wet just looking at him. Don’t those narrow hipbones just beg you to peel off those jeans and lick your way down? Ever wonder what that barely-there skin feels like? You can’t blame her, spreading her legs for a hottie like that, can you?”
Vincent flushes, hotter than the alcohol. He isn’t gay. Not really. Maybe he’s experimented, but a few—okay, more than a few, but who’s counting?—a few breathless blow jobs in the dark don’t count. And until the day he’s sober when he lets some gorgeous hard-muscled fae boy fuck him, that doesn’t count either.
He fingers sticky hair off his neck. Diamond’s probably straight anyway. Straight enough to bang Flora, that’s for sure.
Delilah laughs softly, her seductive breath warm on his cheek, and she flicks her tongue out to taste the jewel in his ear. “Mmm. Fae, as well, and glassfae at that. Kinky. Much more intriguing than a human. No doubt he’s a shit-hot screw, too. That big hot hard fairy cock probably fits pretty good up your girlfriend’s—”
Vincent slams the glass down on the bar, his fingers shaking. “Why don’t you go fuck him yourself, you nasty hellbitch? He’s obviously got a hard-on for low-down lying whores. You two’ll really hit it off.”
His stomach shivers, sick. She could chew his throat out if she wanted to. Right now, he doesn’t give a damn.
But Delilah just chuckles and slings a smooth brown arm around his shoulder. Up close, her perfume is dark and fleshy like a woman’s sex. “I like you, Vincent DiLuca. Your pathetic pondscum antics make me laugh.” She glides hot ashen lips across his cheek. “I saw you sniffing after Joey’s leavings tonight. Brave boy. If you ever get sick of wriggling through snakeshit, give me a call.”
Vincent’s bones jolt cold, but by the time he can react, ask her what the hell she means, she’s gone.
He slides his glass across the bar, disgust and embarrassment twitching his nerves in
Fucking her. Biting those lovely breasts. Making her squeal, first that light breathy cry Vincent knows so well, and then a deeper, more throaty sound that made him shiver and ache. Last time they were together, he almost told her he loved her.
His eyeballs burn, and swiftly he blinks so he won’t embarrass himself any more. Hell, for all he knows, she faked it all along.
“Oh, dear. Is that fresh-cut grass I smell?” Delilah saunters up, tossing crisp winedark curls over an elegant brown shoulder. Her slinky dress glitters in rainbow lights, showing off her curvaceous hips, the deep cleft between her breasts glistening like warm chocolate.
Joey’s demon princess. Beautiful, cunning, a royal pain in the ass. Vincent tilts his glass to finish his bourbon, ice stabbing cold on his teeth. The liquid aches as it goes down, and burns in his stomach like guilt. He throws her a sarcastic smile. “Never liked her that much anyway.”
Delilah purses sexy brown lips and strokes his hair, sultry. “Obviously. But you can hardly blame her, I suppose. He’s richer than you, right?”
He never knows if she’s teasing him or pulling moves. Her ashen scent angers him, and his hard-on isn’t helping. He adjusts himself, aching, trying not to stare at that stunning cleavage. “Wouldn’t know.”
“More powerful. Girls like power, d’you think?”
“I guess.” He clenches his fingers around the glass, itching to punch her annoying face. If he doesn’t react, she’ll get bored and walk away.
“Better looking?”
“If you say so.” His pulse aches. He doesn’t give a fuck what Delilah thinks of him. Her meaningless taunts shouldn’t hurt. But they do.
“Oh, I say so.” Delilah eyes him slyly, and leans in to whisper. “Doesn’t he make you want to touch? I mean, those sweet glassy muscles? That tight ass? Hell, he makes me wet just looking at him. Don’t those narrow hipbones just beg you to peel off those jeans and lick your way down? Ever wonder what that barely-there skin feels like? You can’t blame her, spreading her legs for a hottie like that, can you?”
Vincent flushes, hotter than the alcohol. He isn’t gay. Not really. Maybe he’s experimented, but a few—okay, more than a few, but who’s counting?—a few breathless blow jobs in the dark don’t count. And until the day he’s sober when he lets some gorgeous hard-muscled fae boy fuck him, that doesn’t count either.
He fingers sticky hair off his neck. Diamond’s probably straight anyway. Straight enough to bang Flora, that’s for sure.
Delilah laughs softly, her seductive breath warm on his cheek, and she flicks her tongue out to taste the jewel in his ear. “Mmm. Fae, as well, and glassfae at that. Kinky. Much more intriguing than a human. No doubt he’s a shit-hot screw, too. That big hot hard fairy cock probably fits pretty good up your girlfriend’s—”
Vincent slams the glass down on the bar, his fingers shaking. “Why don’t you go fuck him yourself, you nasty hellbitch? He’s obviously got a hard-on for low-down lying whores. You two’ll really hit it off.”
His stomach shivers, sick. She could chew his throat out if she wanted to. Right now, he doesn’t give a damn.
But Delilah just chuckles and slings a smooth brown arm around his shoulder. Up close, her perfume is dark and fleshy like a woman’s sex. “I like you, Vincent DiLuca. Your pathetic pondscum antics make me laugh.” She glides hot ashen lips across his cheek. “I saw you sniffing after Joey’s leavings tonight. Brave boy. If you ever get sick of wriggling through snakeshit, give me a call.”
Vincent’s bones jolt cold, but by the time he can react, ask her what the hell she means, she’s gone.
He slides his glass across the bar, disgust and embarrassment twitching his nerves in
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