Page 88 of Devils' Day Party
“Fair point,” he says, but almost like that's never occurred to him before. “I haven't exactly been a knight in shining armor.”
I turn in his lap, so I can look at his face, marveling at the beauty of his eyes. Heterochromia is rare, occurring in less than one percent of the population. Barron is truly one of a kind.
“What color is your natural hair?” I ask as he studies me, observing the lines of my face in a way only an artist could.
“I'm a brunette underneath all of this,” he says, cocking his head to one side and then playing with a strand of freshly dyed red hair. “And you?”
“As black as …” I almost say as black as Calix's, but I don't want Barron to think I'm obsessing over his friend. In all reality, in this moment, I'd choose Barron over Calix any day. “A raven's feathers,” I say instead, and Barron chuckles.
“Poetic.”
We sit there for a while longer, my eyes studying the trees just beyond the glass walls of the chapel, their shadows long in the moonlight.
Barron cups my chin again and kisses me, igniting that fire in my belly. He knows what he's doing, reaching a hand between my thighs and playing with the swollen nub of my clit. I wiggle on his lap, turning to straddle him and feeling him thicken and lengthen beneath me in anticipation of round two.
“Tomorrow, I'll tell Raz and Calix that they fucked up,” Barron says with an evil smile. “That they missed their chance.”
“Missed their chance?” I whisper back, our mouths so close together that I'm not entirely sure if we're talking or making out.
“To make you theirs,” he says, hands tightening possessively on my hips. “You've stumbled into my lair on Devils' Day, Karma. You're mine now.” He stands up suddenly, taking me with him, and a small sound of surprise escapes my lips.
Barron carries me down the length of one of the pews and sets me at the end, my bare ass against one of the cushions. I'm making a mess, but there's nothing much to be done about it. Cleanup won't be a problem because there won't be a tomorrow, as much as the thought brings sharp tears to my eyes.
“I'll be right back,” Barron tells me, moving over to my abandoned boots. As soon as his back is turned, I swipe the wetness from my eyes and force my mind away from tomorrow. I'm here now, and that's what's important. “Put these on.” He hands my boots back and waits, his dick tucked back in his pants, arms crossed over his chest. The coattails of his faerie prince jacket float just above the floor, like the folded wings of a butterfly.
“My boots?” I ask, flushing as I cross one arm over my breasts, my other hand holding the shoes. “Why?”
Barron's full mouth quirks to the side in a sensual smirk.
“You're going to need the height,” he says, leaning his ass back against the pew behind him, his expression as self-satisfied as any I've ever seen. He could certainly give Raz and Calix a run for their money. “When I fuck you from behind against the glass. Now hurry up.”
I give Barron a look and then release my breasts, enjoying his sharp intake of breath as he watches me slip into the boots. I feel ridiculous, naked and wearing nothing but heeled boots, but then I see the way that Barron's looking at me.
It's quite clear in his gaze that he's into me.
Mine, he said. So Barron is interested in not just fucking, but dating?
“Okay,” I say, standing up in front of him, several inches taller than before. “Do your worst.”
With a wicked smile, Barron grabs me by the hips and backs me up until my ass is pressed against the glass.
“Thank you for defiling this sacred space with me,” he murmurs, kissing me so deeply that I forget what it's like to breathe. Barron then pulls back and turns me around, pushing me over so that my palms press against the glass, the trees trailing up the hillside in front of us. There's nobody out there, but there could be. My heart beats rapidly as Barron finds my opening, already primed, wet, and ready for him.
He sweeps some red and black hair over my shoulder, leaning down to kiss my upper back.
“You smell too good tonight,” he murmurs against my skin, tasting me with his tongue. “Like sweat and desire, like some sort of sweet, wicked perfume.”
He presses the tip of his cock inside of me, and I gasp, my head falling forward so that my hair hangs down around the sides of my face. His hands grasp my hips, giving him good purchase as he begins to move, slamming his pelvis into my ass. The sound echoes around the wooden rafters as I lift my head back up, staring into my own gray eyes as my body rocks back and forth with each thrust. My breasts sway as I watch my own reflection, my pupils swollen with desire, just two black voids in a pale face. My lips have never looked so red, my cheeks so flushed.
