Page 2 of Flames

My cocks thicken painfully as I take in her pretty pussy, exposed to me with her leather skirt pushed up to her hips and no underwear in sight. A dark patch of curly hair lands in a small strip down the front, leading directly to where the man’s hand is thrusting in and out of her harshly. His fingers are absolutely dripping in desire from her, and I can’t help but wonder if she tastes as delicious as she looks.

“Your dirty slut,” she sighs as her hips lift up to meet his thrusts.

“You gonna come for me like an obedient whore?” he goads as his thumb lands on her clit and presses against the needy nub.

Her shriek of pleasure has my restraint snapping. My hand falls to my swollen cocks. I tease the length of both members, the corkscrew texture along the outside creating rows of thick ridges that my fingers trace delicately across.

“Yes. Yes. Yes,” the stunning creature pressed up against the brick wall chants like a prayer. I want her moaning just like that beneath me as I slide my cocks inside her tight entrance.

My talon tipped fingers wrap around my cocks, moving in time with the woman’s writhing hips. I don’t remember the last time I ever touched myself in my monstrous form, much preferring the comfort of a female woman to my own hand.

And I’m fairly certain that human women prefer human cocks.

But this temptress’ mewls and whines of pleasure are driving me to near madness. My hand moves quicker, rubbing my cocks against each other, the ridges of one kneading against the other in a way that sends electric shocks of pleasure through my core.

“I’m gonna come,” the woman purrs, and my eyes flit up to look at her face. My fire-filled gaze locks with her own—her eyes staring straight at me as she lets go.

Her body goes rigid, her mouth flies open, and yet, she doesn’t break our stare as her release washes over her.

“Fuck!” she screams into the night air.

Her pleasure is my undoing. My lymphs swell, pulse, then unload. I follow my woman over the edge—fire consuming my body entirely as wave after wave of pleasure crashes through me. Ropes of sticky, sweet, cinnamon release shoot from both my cocks. Despite the flames surrounding me, our gazes remain locked.

“That’s it, show me just how good Daddy makes you feel,” the man praises, reminding me that he’s even here.

I close my eyes as the final burst of release shoots from my cocks, splattering against the cement floor below. A crackling moan radiates through my chest.

“Well, that was fun,” the woman states, and my eyes fly open to see her righting her clothes and fixing her hair. “Perhaps I can repay the favor tomorrow?”

The man offers her his elbow, which she willingly accepts. As he spins her to turn back inside, I catch a glimpse of his face and recognition flits through me. I know him, well not know him, but I’ve been trailing him for weeks, determined to infiltrate his inner circle and gain access to the very expensive, and very much stolen, tapestry, which is currently in his possession. Alexander Yovik is a notorious art collector and thief.

And it seems someone has beat me to him.

As Alexander leads the woman back to the door, she flips her ruby hair, turning slightly to look at me over her shoulder. Throwing me a smug wink, she disappears back through the door and into the club beyond. The same club Grigori was supposed to be staking out for signs of Alexander Yovik.

I take a step back into the shadows while my mind races. Flames and feathers retract back beneath my skin, which turns a much more human shade. My limbs snap and crack as my figure shrinks back into my mortal form. The shift is never painless, but it is necessary for my success within this world. When the last embers finally fade, I adjust my leather jacket, dusting some of the soot from the sleeve.

Whoever that woman is—I need to find her.

ONE

MARISA

The thing about being a thief is that inherently your job involves deceit. Usually I’m quite skilled at being deceptive, at making men believe that I truly find them utterly irresistible. But the pile of human garbage sitting across from me is truly testing my acting abilities.

Alexander Yovik is a vile piece of human waste. He unhinges his jaw and shoves another piece of bleeding meat inside, along with a half chewed roll, which is still sitting inside his open mouth.

I did not order seafood, thank you very much, asshole.

I repress my gag. How did a man who is so disgustingly unrefined become one of the wealthiest men in the city? His bushy black eyebrows wiggle as his entire face moves with each aggressive bite. A mix of blood and saliva slips from the corner of his lips and trails down his face, landing on his stained button down.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you all day,” Alexander coos between chews of his mouth full of food. Little bits of beef spew across the table as he speaks. “How pretty you’d look for me tonight.”

I move my salad around my plate but don’t eat. My appetite has diminished significantly since spending time with Alexander. Not ideal for someone who already is anemic and probably should be making sure they eat regularly.

“Waiter!” Alexander hollers, causing me to jump slightly in my seat. “My wine is empty!” His dark eyes turn towards me, taking in my ample cleavage, which I’ve wrestled into this corset. My breasts are essentially spilling onto the table, and not in a sweet and subtle way. But, I get the feeling that subtly would be lost on Alexander Yovik. “Did I scare you, pet?”

I loathe that nickname. It suggests I’m a helpless creature, begging for scraps from my master. Fucking asshole. But I plaster on the fakest smile I’ve ever produced before batting my eyes seductively and biting my lower lip. Submissive is how I need to play this. My research suggests he likes submissive women.