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“You don’t have to follow me inside, you know.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Raven. I’m coming with you.”
Not even his brisk tone can dampen the high I’m flying on tonight. I love dancing, and it’s been too long since I’ve been able to just . . . let go like that. I’m not an idiot, I know that at least one of my husbands was constantly surveilling to make sure any potential threats were spotted. But I suppose that’s just another perk about having my very own reverse harem—there’s more than enough eyes to keep watch.
I feel spoiled and loved . . . and horny.
All the kissing and grinding has only fanned the flame higher and higher. My pulse beats heavily underneath my skin, heightening every other sense.
The women’s restrooms are set up as a two-room bathroom suite. The door opens into a powder room with cream-colored walls and a gray marble counter spanning the entire side wall. A matching mirror with Hollywood lightbulbs in a neat border three of the four sides. There are two chaise loungers and a few stools in front of the mirrors.
The sound of the club cuts off with the door snicking shut behind Aries. It’s surprisingly quiet in here—no music and no other women.
It seems like the toilet room is split into two different areas, so Aries follows behind me as we walk through the door on the left. It’s dark on this side, the lights dim compared to the bright lights of the powder room. It takes a few moments of furious blinking before they adjust.
“Where’s the fucking light switch in here?” Aries grumbles.
I wave a hand over my shoulder as I cross the room to one of the six stalls. “It’s fine. I can see well-enough, and I’ll be done in a minute.” I send him a smirk over my shoulder with a hand on the stall handle. “Do you need to come inside the stall with me?”
He stops in front of the bank of sinks, leaning his hip against one basin and folding his arms across his chest. “Is that an invitation, Raven?”
Heat pinches my cheeks at his insinuation. My teasing backfired, but I don’t even care. A playful Aries is one of my favorite things to witness. “Nope.” I pop the P and slide into the stall.
Once I finish, I flush and head to the sink next to him to wash my hands. I dry my hands on a paper towel and move to toss it in the garbage can when he pounces.
He’s behind me in a flash, moving so quick, a little squeak of surprise flies out before I can curb it.
“Hands on the sink, Raven.”
His gravelly voice does something to me that doesn’t seem possible. But just hearing that low, possessive tenor feels like I just took four shots of tequila. My hands go to the outside of the white sink, the crumbled paper towel forgotten immediately.
“What’s going on?”
His hand skims my leg from my calf upward, sloping over the curve of my ass and stopping at the thin strap of my dark-blue thong. It takes me longer than it should to realize what he’s doing.
“The bottom of your dress was caught in these,” he murmurs, slipping a finger underneath the band. The silky fabric of my dress tumbles free, but his hand doesn’t move. “Do you remember what I said the last time we were in a bathroom like this?”
My head hangs down between my shoulders as the memory of that day springs to life. It’s dark in here, not as dark as the bathroom at the restaurant, but if I close my eyes, it’s like we’re back there again.
“The dark is intoxicating.” My voice is low, but my breaths come out louder and faster. “And we can let go of our inhibitions and give into our needs.”
“And what do you need, Raven?” His palm flattens across my ass, gently squeezing it. His other hand ascends my other leg, his knuckle of his index finger tracing a path of fire along the back of my thigh.
I’m practically panting, lust thick like honey in my veins. I feel lightheaded and weighed down at the same time. Mostly, I feel fucking needy. Like if he doesn’t make me come and then fuck me in the next instant, I might actually pass out.
“You. I need you.”
He slowly bunches up the skirt of my wedding dress in his palm until the humid air caresses my skin. He sucks in a breath behind me a second before I feel his finger slide underneath the thin string of my thong nestled between my ass cheeks. He follows the curve of my ass all the way down until his knuckle brushes against my pussy.
He sucks his teeth, and I imagine the way his eyes darken with lust. “Is this all for me?”
My cheeks heat as the wet noises fill the space, his knuckle circling my core and playing in my arousal. “Yes. It’s yours, Rafael.”
13
ARIES
My hands still when my God-given name tumbles from her lush lips. She doesn’t use it often, preferring her own nickname for me. And the territorial bastard inside of me wants to beat my chest like a fucking gorilla at the fact that she doesn’t use nicknames for anyone else. So when those six letters fly from her mouth, it’s like everything inside of me just stops.
