He drifted his mouth lower, licking the length of my throat before kissing me. His tongue dueled with mine, pushing me higher and higher. I clutched at his arms, then hooked my leg around his waist, his erection finally hitting me where I needed it to be. Moaning, writhing, fucking riding him like he was the only thing anchoring me to this place, I came. I screamed his name, but Sawyer stole the air from my lungs, stole the words from my throat as he pumped against me.
I groaned when he picked me up, wrapped my other leg around his waist and walked me to the wall he mentioned fucking against. Holy shit. With my back plastered against the brickwork, all I could see was him. His normally gray eyes had darkened to a black, stormy tempest, and I could’ve sworn lightning flashed in their depths.
Slowly, he reached up and slid his fingers along my neck, anchoring his fingers at the base of my skull. His cock pressed against my belly, and he brushed his mouth to mine.
I cried out as another orgasm surfaced so quickly and so strongly that I was glad I wasn’t actually using my legs. I felt like I was lit up from the inside, chasing away the darkness of the club.
Sawyer pressed me against the wall, subjecting me to the feel of his arousal. Not that that was such a hardship. Twelve inches indeed. He kissed me again, plunging his tongue into my mouth over and over again. It was an all-out assault, and I needed more. Fisting his shirt, I unashamedly rubbed myself against him like a cat, and he chuckled. It was like satin and daggers—tempting yet so, so dangerous.
Sliding one of his hands up under the tank top, he teased my nipples, pinching and rolling them between his finger and thumb. I almost came again then, grinding hard against his cock. He rolled his hips into mine, rocking against me in a rhythm that made me squeeze my eyes shut. Then, I came again.
Panting, I looked at him, wondering why in the hell I hadn’t fucked an incubus before. Although, fucking was a stretch. We were both fully clothed. He was just getting me off and doing it spectacularly well.
“Sawyer,” I breathed, tucking my head between his neck and shoulder. I kissed him over his pulse-point, which was roaring against my mouth, then nipped him gently with my teeth. He hissed.
“Fuck!” The word sounded as if it had been wrenched from his throat, and he jerked away from me, dropping my legs. Stumbling back a step, he stared at me, the muscles in his neck cording with sudden tension.
“Sawyer?” I asked, staying where I was, because I was pretty sure the wall was holding me up right now. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. “What’s wrong?”
The black was chased from his eyes, clearing to that familiar cool gray. They darted down to my throat as he swallowed convulsively. “Your necklace…”
The darkness began to bleed back into his irises, and he squeezed his eyes shut. The muscles in his jaw jumped as he clamped it shut. When he opened his eyes again, they were gray, but not the cool, clear gray I was used to. This time, there were like steel.
“It’s glowing,” he spat out, the effort to speak evident by the lines branching out from the corners of his eyes and bracketing his mouth. At his sides, he balled his hands into fists, flexing them like he was spoiling for a fight…or to stop himself from reaching for me again.
I glanced down, blinking at the bright glow I hadn’t noticed until now. Given we were in a dark club, that should’ve been pretty fucking evident. How had I not noticed that? The skin around the stone was red and raw, my nerve endings finally firing and my brain registering the agony of the burn. Wrapping my fingers around the opal, I sucked in a hiss.
I looked at Sawyer, whose eyes had lightened to pale gray once more. Shutting his lids, he shook his head. He appeared to be as confused as I was…at least, I hoped it was confusion. If it was regret, well, I didn’t want to think about that.
As I gripped the opal, more and more of that sex haze lifted, and more and more of the heat bled from the stone. Frowning, I demanded, “What the hell just happened?”
“I don’t know. I swear, I don’t… Jesus, I’m sorry, Cat.”
Folding my arms protectively across my chest, I asked, “What happened?”
“I think…” He rubbed the back of his neck, peering up at me from under his thick lashes. “I think we were under the effect of a spell.”
“Say what now?”
“A spell meant just for us.”
“How was that…no, you know what? Don’t answer that.” Good God, I was wet. “You gave me three orgasms,” I told him, slightly affronted.
“Do you want me to apologize for that?” he all but growled, and because he was angry, I got angry too.
“I’m sorry if touching me is so repulsive.” As I stalked away to find the bathroom, I tried to focus on what he’d said. Someone had bespelled us—and only us—but why? To distract us? To tempt us into fucking each other? I couldn’t figure out the why, but I knew how I could.
Locking myself in the first bathroom stall, I shut the lid of the toilet and eased myself down onto it. The last threads of lust were still clinging onto me, and I hoped they disappeared soon. I felt used and somehow dirty. I’d been rubbing up against him like a freaking cat in heat. How was I supposed to look him in the face again? We hadn’t just crossed a line; we’d almost had public sex on it.
Pulling the shard of mirror from the pocket of my jacket, I stared at my reflection for a moment, an
