by Danica Avet
I avoided meeting any gazes as I slid up and down the pole using my thigh muscles to hold impossible positions. Once I appeased my need for the basics—food, shelter, and some security—I continued stripping because the money wasn’t that bad. I told myself it was just another job, like waiting tables, or working a cash register, except I shake my money maker.
My mind was in full-denial mode by the time I started the “specialty” part of my routine. I gripped the pole in both hands, ass out and bounced it. Out of all the girls Spanky had, I was the only one who could make their ass shake like it was on a paint mixer. Not just jiggle, but vibrate. Funny the things you learn about yourself when you’re down on your luck and trying to figure out how to make a few bucks. It was part of the reason I’d ended up here. Banshees with vibrating asses were not high on the must hire list of Fortune 500 companies.
Money flew at the stage ensuring I’d be able to keep Breeze in kitty litter and myself in coffee and glamour spells. My G-string was stuffed with even more money which meant I’d be able to pay my rent next week. Spinning back around, I leaned against the pole. The song was almost over, just another minute and a half and I could get out of these damn shoes. I cupped my breasts, the subarctic temperature of the club making sure my nipples stood at attention at all times.
Unbidden, the image of Ryvan entered my mind. I tried to block the picture to no avail. Suddenly it was his hands on my breasts, his fingers brushing the nipples. Heat exploded in my pussy, soaking the material of my G-string and dampening my thighs. Oh fuck. I tried to stop my fingers and continue my routine, but something compelled me to keep going. I tortured my nipples, rolling and pinching the peaks until I was writhing against the pole.
I felt a hot, wet mouth tugging on one nipple, and then the other as a ghostly hand slid down my stomach. Long, thick fingers parted my saturated folds and penetrated my pussy in one hard thrust. Those fingers started up a fast thrust and retreat that left me gasping and moaning. Pleasure expanded until I was tight as a piano wire, the cold steel of the pole a near painful contrast to the heat scouring me from the inside out.
I came so hard I flung my head back with a near wail of pleasure. I hit the pole but the distant ring had nothing on the roaring in my ears. I’d never had an orgasm that powerful before in my life and I sure as shit had never had one in a room full of people.
The stage was blanketed with money and business cards when I opened my eyes again. Hungry men, of the mortal and paranormal kind, stared at me with pupils blown wide with lust. One demon had ejaculated something from his horns onto the fucking stage. I shuddered, trying to cover myself with my arms. Still the men shouted. Mortified at my inexplicable public masturbation routine, I grabbed my clothes and ran off stage. The next dancer was waiting in the wings, her mouth hanging open in shock.
“What the hell was that?” Sapphire demanded as I passed her. She was one of the few human strippers working at Spanky’s.
I shook my head, still not sure what happened. My eyes burned with tears that would never fall.
She planted her hands on her hips causing her schoolgirl costume to go up and out, showing off her cleavage. “How in the hell am I gonna compete with that, huh, Maggie?”
“I don’t know. Gods, I’m sorry.” My voice came out all tearful and weak.
Her face changed from outrage to sympathy. “Are you on your period? Sometimes my nipples get really sensitive at that time, too, and I can come from a stiff breeze. Don’t worry about me,” she said flapping her hands at me. “Go to the locker room and have a quick lie down before you start your shift on the floor. I’ll tell Spanky you’re feeling delicate.”
Delicate was our way of telling Spanky, who was strangely grossed out by bodily functions, we were on our period. He never questioned us and tended to give us more space to avoid having to hear about bloating, bleeding, or feminine products. I just hoped he didn’t realize I’d been feeling “delicate” only two weeks before.
I nodded at Sapphire and scampered to the locker room. It was blissfully empty at the moment, the other dancers on the club floor or in the private rooms giving lap dances. I stumbled to my locker to pull out my big, cotton robe. I shook from head to toe, my body still caught in the aftershocks of that unexpected orgasm.
I curled up on the old, battered sofa we kept in the locker room for brief naps, wrapping the robe snugly around myself. My thighs were soaking wet from my release. The soft fabric of the robe felt nearly abrasive to my nipples and my heart still pounded. Over and over again, I felt Ryvan’s big hands cupping my breasts, his fingers tormenting me until I exploded. This is what I got for not taking care of business at home. It had to be pent up sexual frustration and a dream lover. Why it’d manifested at the club was anybody’s guess, but day–um, what an orgasm!
I’d never come from nipple play in my life and I’d had my fair share of lovers. None of them would’ve been able to find my clit with a GPS and explicit directions. What I hadn’t known was that the small pleasures those assholes had given me were nothing compared to the orgasm my imaginary lover had.
I shook my head. I was calmer now. Embarrassed as all hell because now I’d have to go mingle with men who’d watched me come all over the stage, but this was my job. The money I earned tonight could mean the difference between staying in my crappy apartment and living in City Park.
After cleaning up and repairing my makeup, I slipped into the club uniform of black micromini skirt that barely covered my ass-cheeks. I hated it because there were two hot pink hand prints for each cheek and the words “Spank Me” written over them. The customers enjoyed this part of the club’s benefits. I despised the forty-dollar spankings since it reminded me of the milder tests the queen’s people had put me through in their quest for tears. The bra I wore only pushed my breasts higher until I could’ve used them like a portable table.
Fortifying myself with a deep breath, I left the locker room and peeked through the door leading to the club. Everything looked normal. The customers were watching Sapphire on the stage and throwing money. The other dancers were mingling and chatting, rubbing their asses over laps, getting spankings. Business as usual.
I opened the door and stepped onto the club main floor. Evidently they’d been watching for me because the instant the automatic-lock door closed behind me, they swarmed.
“I want a lap dance!”
“Oh, baby, that was the hottest thing ever.”
“Have you ever thought about being in interdimensional porn? I think you could handle a demon gangbang, baby. You’d make a fortune!”
“Let me spank that ass. Are you still wet? I bet you are.”
Cheek burning from embarrassment and humiliation, I looked for Grady, the bouncer who was already on his way over. Someone got to me before he did though, pushing the men away with his power. I sucked in a shocked breath as I got a taste of Ryvan’s magic again.
“No,” I mumbled, shaking my head. I backed into the door. I opened my mouth to scream, certain he planned to take me back to Fairworld right then and there.
He snagged my wrist, yanking me away from my perverted fan club. Grady stopped, looking strangely puny next to Ryvan.
“You okay, Maggie?” he asked cautiously.
I didn’t know if I was or not, but the big hand gently squeezing my wrist told me Ryvan would hurt the werewolf bouncer if he interfered. “I–I’m fine, Grady. Uh, this is my private dance appointment.”
It was all I could think of with Ryvan towing me in the direction of the private booths. My admirers howled at how unfair it was and demanded their own dances. Grady, thank goodness, was in more familiar territory with them and took care of them, stopping the horde from following us.
Ryvan grabbed the first available booth and yanked the curtain closed behind us. He let go of my wrist, turning on me so quickly I almost backed out of the booth.
“You’re not going anywhere,” he said with a growl, his big hands grabbing my shoulders. He gave me a lit
tle shake, leaning down to get in my face. “What the fuck are you doing in a place like this?”
The heat of his breath washed over my skin, bringing back the unbearable pleasure I’d felt on stage. My body flushed with arousal, my nether lips swelling and growing slick all over again.
“I—”
Without warning, he yanked me up against him, one of his hands cupping the back of my head to tilt my face toward him. His full lips were just as soft as I’d imagined, but his mouth was hotter than the fires of hell could ever hope to be. He devoured me, his tongue thrusting into my mouth over and over in a perfect mimicry of what I wanted him to do much lower. I should’ve broken away, but damn, I was still on fire from my climax, needing more. My tongue danced with his, flicking over his fangs, the roof of his mouth.
I’d never been kissed with so much intensity, as though my mouth held the key to everything he needed. He tasted like apples and chocolate, a decadent combination I knew I’d dream about the rest of my life—however long it’d be. He was hard and solid against me, a wall of muscle and heat and strength. I clung to his shoulders, letting my fingernails dig into the expensive leather of his jacket. I whimpered a little. I moaned a lot. I rubbed against him like a cat in heat, trying to get the hard length of the cock pressing against my belly where I wanted it, right between my legs.
His hands, great big mitts of hands, flowed over the skin bared by my bra and skirt. His touch was gentle, light, teasing. My body produced more moisture, seeping down my passage to my thighs. He reached the globes of my ass, filling his palms with them before lifting me clean off my feet.
Startled, I broke our kiss, my legs wrapping around his hips reflexively. I gasped loudly at the feel of his cock pressing against me, rubbing in just…the right…spot. My eyes fluttered closed as I writhed against him, unable to help myself.
“Magda,” he murmured in a hypnotically seductive voice. “My Magda.”
His big hands guided my hips in a better rhythm, fucking me against him in an adolescent dry hump I hadn’t done even when I was an adolescent. I’d been an idiot because this felt better than all the full-on sex I’d had as a late teen and young adult. He was hard behind the fly of his jeans and he knew what to do with his body, circling here, rubbing there, and thrusting against me. He knew where my clit was and made sure his jean-covered cock made contact over and over again.
I was making a lot of noise. I couldn’t help myself. This was better than what happened on the stage. This was the best sex of my life and he wasn’t even inside me. I was going to come again and soak the front of his pants. Everyone who saw him would either think he wet himself, or he’d just humped a very wet, sticky woman.
Part of my brain, the rational part, told me this was wrong. That this wasn’t natural. The shameless hussy who occupied the other half of my body pushed Ms. Prude out of the way and angled my hips until he butt up against my clit harder.
“There you go, baby,” he whispered against the skin of my throat. “Come all over me. Let me feel your pussy drench me. Gods, I can’t wait to get inside you. I bet you’re tight and hot, aren’t you?”
His words combined with the scrape of his fangs on the plump top of my breast, sent me over the edge. A piercing shriek burned my throat as I came all over him, my inner muscles squeezing on nothing, my claws ripping through the tips of my fingers to pierce his jacket and shirt, digging into his skin. He shouted, his hips bucking up against me and more damp warmth pooled between us.
The world went silent around us in the aftermath of the best orgasm of my life. Or it might have just been that I lost my hearing from the power of our voices as we came. I couldn’t tell and was too damn sated to care at the moment.
Ryvan sank onto the only chair in the room with me draped around him like a mink stole. I couldn’t move and was glad he had enough sense to find a place for us to recover. His hands still cupped my ass, but they squeezed and kneaded like Breeze did with his favorite blanket, like he drew comfort from it. I gave a mental shrug. If my ass brought him happiness and contentment, who was I to argue? It felt good and soothing so I wasn’t going to complain.
“This didn’t go the way I intended,” he rumbled after my hearing returned.
Music blared from the main floor. Men shouted encouragement. It was a normal night outside the booth, but inside, I’d just had my world rocked by my not-so-imaginary friend.
When I found the strength, I sat up. I still straddled his lap, my juices and his cum coating his jeans. “The way you intended?”
I shifted on his thighs with a wince. I was feeling a little raw. Who knew you could get denim burn? My thighs and nether lips felt very tender right now.
He shook his head, his pale eyes serious. “No, I had a very solid plan on what I’d tell you, but you started freaking out and the fiend attacked before I could finish telling you what was going on.”
“You brought me home and put me in bed.” I folded my arms over my chest, so not happy with him. “Who the hell do you think you are? You can’t just…do that stuff.” And why I was so hung up on that rather than what we’d just done, I couldn’t say. Probably because if he had stayed last night, I would’ve had some very hot sex this morning. Maybe.
I could see his temper sparking to life again. “But I can nearly fuck you in a strip club? I can watch you come on a stage as strangers watch you, see your pussy juices wetting your thighs? That’s okay?”
Okay, his hands had gone from happy kneading to gripping. I squirmed. “I never had that happen before!” Like that was any defense. “And what does it matter to you anyway? Huh?” I poked his rock hard chest.
He grabbed my finger and snarled, “I’m your future consort, Magda, and I’ll kill any man who so much as looks at what’s mine.”
* * *
Chapter Five
I hopped out of his lap like my ass was on fire. Well, it was tingling a lot from his handling, but my move had nothing to do with the physical and everything to do with the ridiculous. My knees wobbled, blood rushed to my head, and it took a moment to find my anger again. Then I remembered the whole consort bullshit.
Yup, one pissed off banshee coming up.
“You’re out of your fucking mind!”
One of his silky black eyebrows rose as he surveyed me from top to bottom. He should have looked disgusting and slovenly with the crotch of his jeans damp from cum, his lips swollen from kisses, and his hair falling into his eyes. Instead, he looked hot. I squeezed my thighs together as another unwelcome clench of lust rolled through me.
Get back on track, Magda Marie O’Quinn! I mentally shouted at myself. He’d claimed to be my consort. I snorted. Everyone knew consorts were only for royals and I was about as far from royal as a banshee could get.
“I don’t have a consort,” I stated with a tug on my skirt.
For someone who spent a lot of time showing their goods, I felt naked in front of him. Probably because I wanted to rip my clothes off and jump him.
“You’ve always had a consort, sweetheart,” he said with great satisfaction. His tongue flicked out to dampen his bottom lip and I tingled. I wanted him to use that wicked tongue all over my body and—
“You’ve always been mine, Magda.”
I snapped out of my lust-induced trance to glare at him. “Oh yeah? Well, other than the fact that I’m not a royal, therefore it’s impossible for me to have a consort, where the fuck were you when my tribe was trying to kill me, huh?” I stomped up to him, no longer turned on. Now I was just pissed off. “You sneer at my job, but when I ran because they were going to murder me it was either strip or prostitute myself. You think I’m going to jump at the chance to go back to that hellhole because you say you’re my “consort” and will protect little ole me? Ha!”
It turned out to be a mistake because he had a long reach. He snagged me around the waist and sat me on his lap, cuddling me up against his chest. I struggled to get away. I didn’t want pity or sympathy. I wasn’t sure what the hell
I wanted at the moment, but he didn’t try to make excuses. In fact, he didn’t talk at all. He just held me, the warmth of his body oozing into me dangerously slow, calming me.
His lips brushed my temple. I heard him take a deep breath, felt his thick chest expand against my side. It made me want to sink into him, to let him take away all the hurts I’d suffered. I’ve never felt so powerfully drawn to a male before, like he was a safe, sexy harbor created just for me. I was so tempted to lean against him, to let him take care of me I had to physically restrain myself from clinging to him. I’d learned in the last ten years that I’m not a weak woman. I might not be magically strong, but I have the will to survive.
“I am your consort because you’re the heir apparent of the Wailing Court.”
I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, right. There are twelve royal princesses among the tribes and my name is nowhere in the mix. Besides, didn’t you hear what I said at the meeting last night? I can’t fucking cry.” My voice came out as a growl, the remembered pain and humiliations scraping across my nerve endings. My feet twitched with the need to get the hell out of here, away from him.
His big arms squeezed me tighter like he knew I was about to burst out of his hold. “There was a prophecy made two hundred years ago.” I felt his words rumbling in his chest before I heard them. “When the banshee who cannot cry is joined by a male of the water, she shall shed tears more precious than air. Together, she and her consort shall unite the tribes under her rule.”
“How pretty,” I said in a soft voice, although Crystal’s prediction whispered through my mind. Was it possible? Then I snorted. “And what a load of bullshit. Someone always has a prophecy and not a damn single one of them come true. If that’s what you’re basing this crap on, you’re out of your mind. Now, let me go. I need to get back to work.”
Obviously that was the wrong thing to say since I actually felt the heat of his anger before he blasted me again. “You’re not going back out there,” he said against my ear. “You think this is some kind of trick to get you back to Fairworld, but you’re dead wrong, Magda. There are already factions aiming to stop you from taking the throne. That’s who attacked last night.”