Her eyes scanned over the crowd, only to come to a sudden halt at the bar. He sat there with a drink and a red-haired siren all over him.
Morana stayed still, her heart drumming, observing what he would do, watching as the siren put her hand on his arm exactly where hers had been, and watching as he didn’t shake it off. She watched, the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach worsening, his face blank of all expression as the siren slithered against him.
Fire infused her veins, filled her belly, sizzled her insides.
She didn’t understand this emotion, never having dealt with it in her life. She didn’t understand how to react. Gripping her phone, unsure of whether to walk up there and punch the siren or walk off and cool down, Morana took in a deep breath, trying to clear the haze of red.
As though sensing her gaze, his eyes came to her. He didn’t do anything, didn’t move, didn’t look away, just waited to see her reaction.
And Morana got pissed.
Spinning on her heels, Morana weaved through the crowd and headed straight for the doors on the side that was closest to her. Pushing open the latch, she stepped out in the empty alley between the club and a warehouse and shut the door behind her. The cool air was crisp in her nose as she inhaled a lungful of it, her hand shaking with her annoyance.
She didn’t know what kind of a game he was playing but she wasn’t here for it. Fuck him and fuck him twice for trying to test her. She’d been nothing but open and emotionally unguarded. And she was pissed because he was being a hypocrite – daring to let another woman put his hands on him when he couldn’t stomach her meeting another man even platonically.
The door opened behind her and the air changed.
Morana started walking away, not even turning to acknowledge him.
She felt his hand on her bare shoulder, turning her around. Shaking with her fury, she looked up at him, surprised to find his eyes amused.
“Sheath your claws, wildcat,” he murmured softly.
Mora
na growled, pushing him into the wall, glaring at him. “Don’t play these juvenile games with me, Tristan. I will cut you open and eat you alive.”
He looked down at her, his eyes searching hers, a softness in his gaze. “There she is.”
Morana frowned, not understanding. But she breathed deeply.
“What was that?”
“I just wanted to see something,” he explained.
“What?”
“If you burned as I burn with the need to claim you. That I wasn’t alone in the fire.”
Convoluted as it was, the explanation calmed Morana a fraction. Insecurity, she could deal with that. She had to remind herself they were both new at this, him more so than her. Keeping her eyes on his, Morana pushed him into the wall and put her phone in his jacket.
His brow furrowed at the action and Morana didn’t explain, sinking down to her knees on the rough ground and unbuttoning his jeans, doing something she’d been dying to do to him for days, putting across her message in a language he would understand, once and for all.
“You wanted to know if I burn with you?” Morana asked, pushing down his jeans and taking out his semi-hard cock, looking up at him to find his attention rapt on her.
She licked him at the tip, tasting his salty flavor, and stated. “That’s fucked up. You’re fucked up. But you’re mine.”
He got harder and she licked him on the underside. “Every” lick “fucked up” lick “inch of you.”
His hand fisted around her ponytail, holding her head as he pushed inside her mouth, her lips wrapping around him. She took him as far back as she could and pulled back, keeping her eyes on his, her hands on his strong thighs. He opened his mouth to say something, his blue eyes flaring in a way she’d never seen before, and she took him in her mouth again, hollowing her cheeks and applying the pressure she’d read worked wonders in magazines.
His hips flexed, his hand tugging at her hair even as he still controlled how much she could take. “You keep looking at me like that and I’ll come under a fucking minute.”
Fuck, that felt good. The power she felt in that second, knowing who he was, seeing his control fray at the edges inside her mouth made her feel good.
“Say my name,” Morana mumbled, sucking just his tip and flicking her tongue against the slit, not breaking their eye contact. Anyone could come out and see her on her knees, taking her man into her mouth, his fist wrapped around her hair, and it made her fucking wet.
His thumb stroked over her cheek as his breathing labored. He didn’t say her name.