10- Devi
The question is more jarring than Selk’s wandering hands. A detached sort of groping over my stomach and hips makes me think he’s checking me over for weapons, but when he’s done, one of his cool fingers tips my chin toward him. Cool, sweet-smelling breath brushes against my lashes as he inspects the imbed. It’s…invasive. And unfortunately, well within his rights to touch my body.
Jack’s rules dictate I can’t refuse.
He inhales slowly, sucking all the air from between us and holding it. Selk’s brows pinch as he tips my chin higher. He’s waiting for an answer. His other palm rests on my hip, fingers pinching tight just at the curve of my ass. When I still don’t reply, he scoots me an extra bit further down his thigh, pressing me into his taut stomach. Up close like this, his features are blinding. A glossy streaked braid, a pointed, smooth jaw… I roam his face, fixating on his eyes, his nose, the minty cool lips just inches away. Someone has poured alcohol over my brain because all my inhibitions magically vanish. I’m not even trying to hide how low my eyes have gotten or how close I’m leaning toward Selk’s face. Will his lips be as cold as the rest of him? What about his tongue?
How long has it been since I’ve taken care of my needs? If the flush burning under my skin means anything, it’s been too long and I’m nearing another one of my crazes.
Exhaling just as slowly, he purrs, “Delicious, do humans typically ask questions they don’t expect an answer to…?” The roughness of his mod mismatches the curved smile on his face and the intense look in his eye. Like he wants to take a bite out of me.
“Erm, I just saved until I could afford it,” I say, my voice tightly. “It’s not impossible.”
“No, not impossible, no. Just deeply… deeply… improbable for a dancer in a club like this,” he says, no malice in his tone, only blunt honesty.
It pisses me right off and banishes the stupid lust clouding my mind. It makes me spitting mad to think of how hard I skrimped to afford this low-grade eye imbed when he could probably just wave a hand and get it made custom. Then it makes me even angrier to think just rubbing against his hard muscles has me willing to break Jack’s rule about sex with the clients. Just a filthy little slut for me, aren’t you? Desperate… The memory of Jack’s voice makes my stomach pitch. And I shove it into a box.
Selkin exhales just as slowly, a rumble barely audible. “How are you making enough money making drinks and dancing,” he teases, his interest taking on a cruel undertone. “Taking on extra duties?” He winks. Fucking winks at me like we’re sharing dirty little sex secrets.
“I make good tips,” I defend, realizing how much I hate this male, “and Jack—”
“Ah, so Jack Starlet bought it. Such a loving big brother, hm? What else does he spoil you with?” The slow perusal of my body makes me tilt my chest up like the nutcase I am even as I seethe. I don’t want him to like what he sees, but the vain, stupid bitch in heat in my head wants to see more of that glossy look in his eyes.
Of all the days for my hormones to go haywire.
If the douchebag would’ve let me finish, he’d have known Jack didn’t buy me a fucking thing. Said he “wasn’t running a charity,” adoptive sister or not. I fight an eye roll, choosing to cross my arms and glare instead. “How do you know it wasn’t just a gift from one of my Thur clients? Your kind is far more likely to waste money than mine.”
Barely a beat passes before he huffs out, “Because if it was, then the quality would be better. I know a hack job when I see one and—” he peers closely at the iris, tugging my lower lid with his thumb— “you look like you’re a year away from the worse rejection I’ve ever seen.”
I feel faint. Thur are always brash, and heartless to some degree because they never have to consider what it’s like to live being weak. And they aren’t human, so all those pesky little things called tact and empathy are nonexistent. Selk’s words sting. They slice through the flimsy material over my chest and score me down to the bone because my eye aches every day. It’s giving me rattling headaches that won’t subside on their own. God, the way my stomach knots thinking about how painful a mod rejection is… about how awful the scarring is.
I’ve seen the horror stories.
He studies my expression and then dismisses it. “Take Emer, for example—”
I don’t realize Emer’s been speaking, or even that he’s crowded just behind me until his heat presses into my back. For some reason, I arch further, brushing myself against his stomach like a cat. He doesn’t step back and the useless, sex-obsessed part of me can’t help but preen… somehow I’m the one rubbing over them like I want to stain their skin. Are you my little slut? All mine? Jack’s voice taunts and I flinch.
“Don’t, Selk,” he growls, a large—too large—hand wrapping around my waist and tugging. My legs tremble. Something cramps then loosens. Selk’s palm counters him, trapping me between them like the coziest, horniest… oh my god, stop it! I’m jerked in the opposite direction, but there isn’t enough room to move, so I’m being ground down on Selk’s lap, against his firm, cool chest. And the proud bar nestled between his thighs. I shake my head, but nothing clears. The size of Emer’s palm as it covers my whole stomach is impressive enough, but when he tugs me backward again, grinding me over Selk, my body melts. It takes all my focus not to whimper. How good could they make me feel?
I need that. Need it.
Somebody gasps. Is it warm? Or is it just me? How do they know exactly how to touch me to get me to fold? Is it some sort of Thur trick only the Settled know? How to ignite each and every sensitive spot. The wetness is impossible to ignore now, dripping down onto my thighs.
“What?” Selk asks as I stare at his eyes. He’s not looking at me, though, but over my shoulder. “I was just using you as an example for—” Emer’s giant hand wraps around Selk’s throat and clenches. Immediately, Selk grabs Emer’s forearm, and between the struggle, I’m sandwiched tightly. There’s no room to move and dammit all to hell my body is embarrassing me. I’m trying to tilt my pelvis away from Selkin so he doesn’t notice. We squeeze closer and my skin buzzes, tilting my wetness back down into Selk’s lap. I can’t tell which one groans. But sweetness wafts up between us.
“Why must I always remind you which of us is strongest, Selk?” Emer says, his voice so husky that my skin shivers. He tightens his grip on Selkin and my breasts are rubbed against a cool body while my ass warms against Emer’s stomach. It’s driving me crazy.
Selk flicks his eyes to me, pausing when he sees that I’m almost panting now. His glossy eyes dilate further until only the smoky gray rim remains. His hand on my hip tightens until it stings.
“Will there be service any time soon?” The cold voice snarls, shattering the moment so quickly I gasp. Selk stiffens, waiting for Emer to release his throat. One step back. Two. Emer takes all the heat with him and when he’s far enough away that my back is cold, Selk shoves me from his lap, an insane firmness brushing against me on my way. Another trickle of dampness follows even as I stumble.
There’s nothing graceful about it. My knees sting as I stumble to my feet. Emer watches me but doesn’t help. Then he glares at the male behind me, backing up slowly. Oh, but that look says more than anger… there’s heat under it, enough that my spine prickles with lust.
Without another word, I manage to make it to the far wall where our distribution chamber is. Service. Provide. Soothe. The words play through my head, mixing with my experience and training to help keep me focused and help me ignore the lust pounding through my head. As I punch in the code for a Lithe request, Emer asks for pepprin to be added to his karkut. I quickly type the codes and request the proper amount for four, then speed walk to the bar. I try to run back through the conversation we just had, but my head feels muddy.
And as if summoned, my eye throbs. My pussy throbs. My brain throbs.
“I’ll take calli weed in my leisan,” Selk says, and when I look up, he’s the only one with eyes on me. Emer is staring at the chamber, where I realize the production code is still blinking on the screen. I forgot to hit enter like an idiot. I take two quick steps and jam my finger against the correct key, then return to mixing the drinks. Only, I can’t help but feel like I’m missing something. When the door slides open, revealing a luxurious carafe with a matching dropper, I sigh.
Setting each drink onto the tray, I add the Lithe and head for the males. Recalibrate, entice, I tell myself. Except, I’m not sure I’m the one in charge tonight.