I sidle over to him, passing him the tequila as my hips begin to sway to the music. Kratos’ eyes stay on me as he takes a heavy sip, keeping the bottle in his hand. A soft, warm rain begins to sprinkle down. But it’s still gorgeous out, I’m not ready to go in yet, and it’s not heavy.
So I keep dancing, slowly swaying my hips and raising my arms as my fingers push through my hair.
“I want to watch you dance some more,” he rumbles quietly.
I twist, glancing at him over my bare shoulder as my hips undulate.
“Yeah?”
There’s something dangerous and primal in his gaze. A dark hunger that gets my blood pumping hot and my thighs clenching. I can feel my nipples pebble and tighten under the dress as my teeth rake over my lip.
“Yeah. Dance for me, babygirl.”
An erotic, sultry heat pulses deep in me as I keep dancing and swaying my hips. My eyes close, my fingers shoving slowly through my hair before my hands glide down my body.
I know how to do almost any style of dance, and I know how to move my body. But this is a first. Maybe I’ve danced like this in a club full of other people. But I’ve never done it in front of someone.
Never done it in front of a man who’s looking at me like he wants to lick me from the inside out and then swallow me whole.
I turn again, swaying my hips to the music as my eyes zone in on his. Kratos takes another pull of tequila, his gaze still roving hungrily over my body. I dance closer to him, reaching for the bottle, then gasp quietly when he roughly grabs my wrist and yanks me into his lap.
The rain begins to fall a little more heavily. But the drops are warm, and the feel of them teasing lightly over my skin and soaking my dress is a turn on. I take the tequila from his hand, taking a slow sip and whimpering softly when his mouth finds my neck.
His lips fasten on the soft skin there. I gasp sharply at the pierce of his teeth. I take another sip of tequila. This time, I don’t swallow. I let it trickle out of my mouth, trailing down my chin to my neck. Kratos’ growl rumbles against my jugular as he licks the tequila from my skin, his fingers tightening on my hips.
Suddenly, his hands are gliding up my back. He tugs the tie behind my neck, letting the top of my dress tumble down between us and my breasts spill free.
He growls quietly as he dips his head. His eyes lock with mine as he wraps his lips around one tight, pink, puckered nipple. I squeal as he bites down, viciously tugging and twisting the little bud between his teeth as I moan with desire. I take another sip, again letting the tequila dribble down my chin and onto my chest for him to lap up as my hips grind on his lap.
We’re both panting as he suddenly slides his hands under my dress. I moan when I feel him yank his jeans open, and when I feel the huge thickness of his fat cock throbbing against my thigh, my breath catches.
His thick fingers yank my thong aside. He centers his swollen head at my eager, dripping wet lips. One hand wraps around my throat, the other gripping my hip. And in one thrust, he rams up, burying his cock inside my tight wetness in one brutal stroke.
“Fuuuuck,” I groan, simmering with pleasure at the feel of him impaling me on his dick.
I don’t think I’ll ever get used to how big he is. But I love that. I love that it feels like he’s sliding into me for the first time, every time.
I cry out as he lifts me up and yanks me back down, squeezing his fat dick into my swollen little pussy as my eyes roll back in bliss.
Maybe it’s the masochist in me: the need for a little pain. For a little sour with the sweet.
The way I crave the Heaven and the Hell of him equally.
I just know I’ll never not want this. I’ll never want anything but this.
Kratos’ hands are everywhere: squeezing around my throat, slapping my ass. Gripping my hips and mauling my breasts as his teeth rake down my jawline and my neck. My arms wrap tight around him, my hands gripping the back of his hair as I throw my head back, feeling the warm rain and the tequila heat wash over us both.
He rips his shirt off, and I shiver at the electric feel of my nipples dragging against his bare chest. His fingers dig into me as he grabs the bottle of tequila and takes a sip. Then he’s kissing me hard, letting the añejo swirl and dance from his tongue to mine as I ride his big dick and bounce in his muscled lap.
The rain comes down harder. The sultry music surrounds us. The wet slipperiness of skin against skin and the slick squeeze of my pussy around his length drives us higher and higher as I squeal for more.
His finger drags down the cleft of my ass, pushing against my tight little back hole. My eyes flare, an erotic electricity coursing through my system as he teases me and slowly pushes his thick finger inside.
I grab him, kissing him hard and screaming into his mouth as I start to come undone, riding him for all I can. Kratos groans into my mouth, fucking up into me hard and ruthlessly, without mercy. His hand roughly pinches my nipple before sliding up to grip my throat tightly.
“Good girl.”
With another wail, I’m coming, and I’m coming hard. I can feel my entire body spasm and tighten, my pussy clenching and rippling up and down the thick length of him as he swells even bigger inside me. His hand roughly grips my chin, his thumb and forefinger pinching my lip and yanking my mouth to his as he kisses me deeply.
He groans into my lips as hot ropes of his cum spill deep inside me. I moan wildly and keep riding him, rolling my hips against him over and over until we both come apart.
We stay outside for so long I lose track of time. Just kissing as the rain comes down. Just holding each other as the world spins around us.
This is no longer a game of cat and mouse. It isn’t a game of tag anymore, either.
This might be the most real thing I’ve ever felt in my life.
26
KRATOS
With a ten and a seven, hitting again is insanely risky. But I’m feeling a little reckless, and I’m in a fantastic mood. One, I can still taste Bianca’s pussy on my tongue from when I pinned her to the floor earlier, before I went out. And two, I’m not really here to gamble tonight.
What I’m here for is a sure thing.
Situated beneath a dry cleaner’s, a hipster bar, and a lingerie boutique, the Bratva-run Black Swan is one of New York’s most exclusive, luxurious, and decidedly high-rollers-only underground casinos. I’m not much of a gambler myself. But I know that most of the people who come here to play cards, toss dice, or bet on sports or fights are all members of criminal organizations. The few that aren’t but are crazy enough to want to play cards with gangsters for large sums of money are either, A: mafia-adjacent, or B: low-lifes and scumbags who’ve been barred from every legitimate casino in the New York area.
My target this evening falls squarely in category B. And knowing that he’s here tonight is at least eighty percent the cause of the smile on my face.
