Page 167 of Handsome Devil
I knew that.
Didn’t mean I didn’t enjoy it.
But I wasn’t going to let him think he could just alpha all over me however he liked, anytime he liked.
On that note, I stopped letting him suck me into eye-fucking him across the room, and really tried to pay attention to the fight.
Shane was getting hit, a lot, and maybe I should’ve been concerned. It wasn’t all that enjoyable watching a man I sort of knew, who’d really been nothing but nice to me, getting the shit beat out of him. However, the other guy was getting beaten up, too. A lot worse, from what I could tell. One of his eyes was looking pretty swollen. He couldn’t possibly see very well out of it, and it wasn’t all that well-lit in here.
Still, he fought on.
Shane kept trying to take the fight to the floor, but the other guy kept getting back up. Fists and blood and sweat flew. Both fighters seemed pretty skilled, so they both defended themselves well, but they both went on the attack so hard, damage was definitely being done.
Shane actually looked happy, in a weird way.
He definitely wasn’t smiling, though.
He was staring down his opponent with a gleam in his eye that I could only call murderous. He looked entirely focused on what he was doing. Like his entire life had been bent toward this moment.
Illegal underground fighting.
Crazy.
Shane landed a strike across his opponent’s eyebrow that cut him open, and blood splattered down his face. I winced. But it wasn’t like on TV. There was no stop to the action. No one ran in to attend to that gash. They just kept fighting, as blood poured and they both kept taking hit after hit.
There was something very wrong about this.
But they were grown men. No one was forcing them to do this.
I looked at Dane in the crowd.
He was still watching me.
It was strange, how civil he looked at a distance. He looked like some handsome guy I might go strike up a conversation with. Maybe get to know. Maybe date.
But Dane Davenport was not that guy.
I was never going to date him for real.
I was probably going to fuck him, though, at some point.
I was fully cognizant of the fact that whenever any part of him was between my legs and I was hating on him, the result was pure fireworks in my sex parts. It turned me on.
Yeah. I was twisted like that, apparently.
Having that man look at me with sex eyes? Putting his mouth on my pussy? Getting hard for me? Coming down my throat?
I was starting to squirm right now just thinking about it. I could feel my pulse thrumming between my legs.
Yup. I had a straight-up hate fetish going on.
And the object of my hatred was looking at me right now across the crowd. Staring me down with dark intent.
I wanted him to walk over to me and shove me right down to my knees. Take out his big dick. And push it into my mouth. I wanted him to make me blow him right here in the middle of this raucous crowd. Just ease his cock into me again and again, punching his hips forward as he fucked my mouth, until he unloaded down my throat again like he did on our wedding night.
A horn blew and I fucking jumped.
I blinked. Dane was still watching me.
