Page 71 of Liberated By Sin
Not a single drop.
I lifted her ass off the bar, splitting her open as she spilled onto my tongue.
Amara’s nails scraped against my scalp when she attempted to free herself from my grasp. There was a moment I hesitated, afraid to make her feel confined or trapped if she didn’t desire to be, but when I saw the sated expression on her face, it spurred me on, and I indulged until she was pounding on the counter and crying out my name.
“Next time I leave, I want you with me,” I said, alternating kisses between her shaky thighs. For the past two days, my thoughts centered on Amara. The way she felt in my arms. Her voice. My name on her lips. And how good her pussy swallowed my cock. Fuck, I had it bad.
“What if…I have work?” she asked between pants.
Work? I’d be damned if she ever set foot on that stage again. But that was a conversation for another day. My pants had converted into an ancient torture device. Lifting her off the bar, I cradled her body, her back against my chest, and nuzzled her hair.
“All of that can wait. I need you.”
“Take me,” she whispered as she ran her nails along my nape. The fire of her touch moved through me like a fuse.
Gently bending her over the counter, I usedone hand to smooth over her ass and the other to free my cock. The red gleam of a lamp above us highlighted her glowing skin, drawing my eyes to the faint linear scars on her cheeks and along her back. The horrors my girl had been subjected to had kept me up at night, pacing my room, hands buzzing for revenge. Even if I were unfamiliar with a world where death was currency, I’d still understand her taste for blood.
When I hoisted her higher against the bar, I got a clear view of her swollen pussy, and I was suddenly ravenous all over again. But nothing compared to the feeling of making her mine. Maybe I was obsessed, infatuated, fucking mad—whatever agony I’d felt at her absence, only quelled when I slid inside her.
30
Lost.
I was lost in my own reflection, staring at the woman in the mirror in awe. There were many nights before my turn on stage when I’d sit and question my life and the events that had brought me to this club. But tonight was different. I wasn’t sure I remembered what hope felt like, but maybe this feeling of weightlessness was just that. Or the flutters in my belly.
I didn’t recognize her.
The woman with light in her eyes.
And a smile carved on her face.
I used to know her.
Soft knocks at my dressing room door pulled my gaze from the stranger in the mirror. But my smile only widened when Santino walked through. He said nothing and lifted me out of the chair, only to sit and reposition me over his lap.
“I’m not ready yet. And I have to perform in twenty minutes.”
“No,” he said, shaking his head and leaning in for a kiss. “You have the night off.”
“Santi, you can’t just re-block. We’re still down a dancer. Two, actually, because Star didn’t show.”
He shifted the hair on my shoulders and kissed behind my ear, causing me to squirm and giggle. I immediately regretted the noise the moment it left my body. But Santino wasn’t fazed and held me tighter.
“I don’t care about any of that. I owe you a date, remember?”
“I’m off tomorrow night.”
“I know. You’re also off tonight.” He pushed to his feet. “Come on. I want to take you somewhere. Down to the beach and the pier.”
Santino carried me out the door and through the shadowy corridor toward the back exit.
“Wait, my shoes.”
“You won’t need them,” he said with a cunning grin.
“Okay, but you’re going to have to put me down. What will people think?”
“That I’m the luckiest bastard.”