Burned(Devil's Blaze MC 2)(53)

I don’t, though. That would end the plans I have for tonight. Instead, I place two gentle kisses on each of her cheeks.

“Good girl. Now, it’s time to get ready to go out. Oh, and no underwear,” I tell her, getting up and going to the bathroom to wash up.

“What?”

“You heard me, sweetness.”

“I can’t go like this!”

“You can and you will,” I tell her, coming back out and throwing on a shirt.

“I smell like sex. At least let me put on—”

“Not happening. Get up from there and go brush your hair. I kind of messed it up.”

“I have to wear panties! What if this thing falls out? What if they… smell me?”

I stop myself from laughing—just barely.

“Trust me, sweetness, that plug isn’t going anywhere. As for smelling you, if they do, they’ll just wish they were me. Besides, trust me, before the night is over, you won’t give a damn.”

“How did I not know how sadistic you are?” she grumbles, getting up to fix her hair. She stops after taking two steps. “Oh, shit…” Her startled eyes go to mine.

“You’re in for a long night, sweetness,” I tell her, and this time, I don’t stop the laugh.

Let the games begin.





“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you were meeting friends tonight,” I mumble in Torch’s ear.

The way he had me dressed, I thought we were going out dancing and drinking. Nope. We’re in the middle of a steakhouse in a corner booth eating steak and drinking beers. Which would be okay, fine even, except we’re sitting across from a large man named Drake—and by large, I mean if he was painted green, he could double for the Hulk. Drake has his arm over the booth and has a bitch-faced redhead pulled up next to him. Her name is Angie, which should be noted rhymes with “gag me”. Okay, maybe not completely, but close enough.

“You didn’t ask,” he says, squeezing my leg. “You want another beer?”

“No. If I keep drinking, I’m liable to slap that look off Angie’s face.”

Torch addresses the table. “I think I’m going to take my girl out on the floor for a dance.” Then, he pulls me from the seat. My hand goes desperately to my dress, trying to pull the small fabric down so I don’t flash the entire free world. I know I’m blushing when I look up to find Drake grinning at me.

“Can’t say I blame you,” he mutters, his eyes roving over me appreciatively. I don’t know what kind of relationship Drake and gag-me have, but apparently it’s quite open.

I look away, not wanting to encourage him. I have one too many men on my hands at the moment as it is. I walk carefully behind Torch, constantly reminded that there’s a plug inside of me. Every step I make is like mini-torture. I’ve been wet since before we left the hotel room and walking just makes me wetter. I might as well announce to the room that I’m ready to be fucked. The insides of my thighs are coated in my wetness. It pisses me off as much as it excites me. I should make him lick it up, right here in front of everyone. He’s obviously into that kind of thing. Too bad I’m not.

“Not enjoying yourself, sweetness?”

“I would if gag-me would quit staring at you like you’re fresh meat on the grill. Doesn’t Drake realize what a ho-bag he’s with?”

Torch throws his head back laughing. My heart squeezes; I love seeing him happy and laughing. Hell, if I’m going to be honest, I also love being the cause.

“I don’t think he sees what a bitch he’s with,” he admits. “Drake’s a good man. I served with him overseas, but he’s pretty damned clueless about Angie. She’s good in bed, and Drake is letting his dick think for him. He’ll wise up eventually.”

“What do you mean ‘she’s good in bed’? You’ve slept with her?”

“How do you think Drake met her?”

“Hell, I don’t get you men. But you’re definitely going back to using condoms,” I grumble. “I may have to completely cut you off. No wonder gag-me is looking at you like she could eat you alive. She’s already had her claws in you.”

“Hell no. No more condoms and definitely not cutting me off. Angie may have had my cock once, but that’s all she’s had. You, on the other hand….”

“Me?” I ask, unable to hide the wince when I stumble.

“Shit, sweetness. Is it your leg?”

“I’m okay,” I tell him, but am unable to keep the pain out of my voice.

“Why the fuck didn’t you wear your boots?”