Coty turns to me and puts a finger in front of my face. “You see what happens when you fucking test me?” he growls. “People suffer.”
“Mm-hmm.” My eyes track sideways toward Chaz. Coty grips my face and reroutes my attention, but not before I catch Chaz’s manic grin and the movement of his lips as he mouths the words, “Worth it,” and throws me one of his iconic winks. Baylor helps Chaz up, both men stifling laughter.
I angle my head to the side and nip at one of Coty’s fingers. He lets me capture the pad between my teeth and proceeds to slip its length to the back of my tongue before slowly pulling it out.
He then takes my hand and returns it to his jeans. “I will thoroughly enjoy proving who you belong to tonight.” Tonight. Our time is always just “tonight” with him. Tonight and every night for a few days, then he leaves. All of them do. But I like it that way. It works.
This time when my fingers dip low enough they meet an erection straining against already taut jeans. His fingers drag along the band of my leggings and trace the width just beneath the surface before slipping out and following the line of front laces down to the seam between my thighs.
“Coyote,” I whisper.
“Hmm?” he hums, bringing his nose to my neck.
“Keep touching me like that, and I won’t be able to wait until tonight.”
“Oh, I will take care of you right here, right now.” His hot breath hits the sensitive spot just beneath my ear as his fingers study the material he paid for, following the rivets down and around to the missing lace along my outer thigh.
A gravely sound rumbles from his chest when the unexpected feel of uncovered skin meets his fingertips. His hand dips beneath the faux leather and pushes to the inside of my thigh, fingers snaking under the thin g-string beneath, pads seeking out my heat and wetness. I inch forward on the barstool, eager to finally receive the contact I have unfairly been starved of by all the basic dancing and chatting I’ve endured since Stoney drugged me.
Coty drives in a couple fingers and scoops his opposite arm around my waist, using it to force me harder against his working hand. My head falls back and lolls to the side, and my elbows press against the bar top, supporting me so I can grind.
Just as my eyes are about to roll closed, they land on Zane who has not moved from the stool beside us since the xannie kicked in. Completely lethargic and uncaring, his focus is locked between my thighs. Zane has no idea I notice his lingering gaze while Coty thrusts and swirls.
That unbridled lust swimming in his fawn-like eyes does me in. My heart rate ratchets and lower belly tightens. Zane adjusts on the stool and palms himself, tongue slipping out to dampen his lips. My pussy pulses around Coty’s fingers.
“That’s right, little siren. Let him see who is allowed to touch you — to make you come — because that’s all the prude will ever work up the courage to do anyway.” My throat vibrates around a moan, and my thighs twitch with the first shudder of orgasm. “You like that? You like torturing my club brothers?” Coty thrusts inside me again.
I combust.
“Oh, god,” I whimper.
Zane’s gaze shoots up to my face. I close my eyes and let the current take me, repeating, “oh god, oh god,” until I can no longer speak but gasp for air.