Chapter 1
Soft touches stroke my face as my eyes roll to peer above me. Some man, I think his name is Rain, gazes into my eyes as he thrusts his dick to the back of my throat. Pale light from the lamp by my front door shines on his tanned skin as my jaw strains, and my cheeks hollow.
“Holy shit,” he groans as his neck strains.
My nails ghost on his bare thighs as I release a portion of him from my mouth. My tongue laps at his tip, playing with him as he bites his lip. When my nails rake over the cords of muscle on his chest, feeling every fucking abdominal muscle, my thighs can’t help but clench. It’s been a while since I fucked a guy this toned. Saliva spills from my mouth, running along my chin since I forgo swallowing until he taps the back of my throat. The shudder racing through his body makes my hips wiggle as I stand on my knees. This position fucking hurts since I have the knees of a one-hundred-year-old thanks to partying in my late teens, but men love this shit.
“This is the best head I’ve ever had.” He sways his hips, swinging his dick in my mouth from left to right. His fingers drag over my cheeks as he growls.
No fucking shit. If there’s one thing I know, it’s sucking dick. I suction my mouth, placing one hand along the base. My wrists flex and rotate while I touch every ridge of his dick.
When he begins to push harder while placing a hand on the back of my head, I know he’s on the brink of cumming. I don’t fucking think so. We come together, or you don’t cum at all.
Popping him from my lips, I use the back of my hand to wipe my swollen lips. “Okay.”
I extend my hand, motioning for him to help me up. With his pants at his ankles, he shimmies as he tugs me from the floor. My teeth dig into my lower lip as I unbutton my jeans. Within seconds, they’re on the floor of my living room. Curling a finger, I gesture to him to come to me.
“I can’t wait to fuck your pussy. You’ve never had a dick like this.”
My eyes roll at his words. I like it better when my dick doesn’t talk. “Yeah. Of course, I haven’t.”
After he grabs a condom from the back pack of his jeans, he chucks off his pants, and I tug off my panties. My strappy shirt and bra join them on the floor by my couch. I snag a ponytail holder from my wrist to yank my hair up. I need that shit that’ll make me wash my hair afterward.
The second I lie on my couch, swaying my shoulders against the expensive blue furniture, he climbs above me. His lips lean to mine, but I don’t kiss one-night stands. Like a fucking boss, I tilt my neck before locking my arms around his head. I clutch him to me, lifting my neck to give him access. Most men aren’t bright, but they can be led.
He licks and sucks on my neck, spreading goosebumps along my skin. My nipples harden when his chest brushes mine. Whimpering, I roll my body against his. He sits on his calves in between my legs while pressing the condom to his lips. My mouth twists at the movements before he dives to grab my left nipple in his mouth.
He tugs my sensitive areola into his mouth. I don’t have much up top, so it’s not difficult. My shoulders wiggle before my back bows off the couch. His tongue drags lower, moving along the trail I want. When he shoves his tongue into my belly button, I squirm. His long licks would be better served elsewhere. He continues the motion, rising as my eyes narrow. Fuck.
I place my fingers on his shoulder, scratching his tanned skin before working on his head. When he laps at my neck this time, it doesn’t cause the same tingle. Stretching away, I plant my hands above his head before shoving him down. He follows my trail, allowing me to push him until he gets to my belly button.
At my belly button, he tenses while kissing my body. Mutherfucker. Gritting my teeth, I thrust against his head, trying to get him to lick my pussy. Instead, he jolts, popping up to stare into my eyes.
“Uhhh. Maybe you don’t understand, but I don’t eat pussy.”
My view darkens as one of my eyes twitches. Propping myself on my elbow, I giggle before whirling my tongue over the bottom of my teeth. “Excuse me.”
“I don’t eat pussy. That’s gross.”
The ringing inside my head only grows. My eyes rapidly blink as parts of the room pulse in and out of focus. Pursing my lips together, I grin. “Did I or did I not suck your dick?”
“You did, but I don’t eat pussy, so it doesn’t matter.”
“Awesome.” I bend my knee behind his body, twist and sit on the couch. Grabbing my shirt, I toss it on before looking for my pants.
“What are you doing?” His dick throbs as he rises.
“My mother said it’s impolite to ask guests to leave without walking them out.”
“Excuse me?”
“Get the fuck out,” I bark as one of my eyes twitch.
“What?”
“Get. The. Fuck. Out.” When I stand, my eyes land on my jeans at the opening of the living room. “There they are.”
“Wait, you can’t be serious.”
Prancing to snag my jeans, I smirk at him as I step into them. “I’m as serious as a heart attack. You don’t eat pussy, which is your prerogative, but you won’t be fucking me unless you do.” I button my pants and rip the holder from my hair. A mix of brown falls over my face, blocking my view.
Running my hands through my hair, I glance at the mirror on the wall. My hair is reverting to its original color, but streaks of silver are left from the last dye. Layers of out-of-control curls run from my scalp, courtesy of my Afro-Latina heritage. Runestones of protection glitter on my skin, uncovered because I haven’t bonded with anyone recently with a glamour ability. The twisted shapes and lettering are bold in black and silver ink, splayed from the top of my clavicle to the bottom of my toes. One of my perfectly arched eyebrows rises when movement glows on the mirror as he glares.
“I’m sorry. Do you need some fucking help?” There’s nothing kind about my tone. Folding my arms over my chest, I watch him yank the condom off his half-hard dick. My eyes flutter without my control when it lands on my brand-new rug. “You have three seconds to pick that shit up, or I’ll fucking kill you.”
He scoffs. “You’re the one being a bitch over me not eating pussy.”
The laugh bubbling from my mouth won’t stop. I crack my knuckles as I angle my neck. The usual unseen runestones on my body brightly glow, revealing their locations. My fingertips sizzle as the familiar aroma of fire punches the air. His pupils expand when he sees what’s brewing in my hand.
“I’d hate to burn my place down since I changed the decor the other day, but money be damned,” I hiss. The vein in his forehead thumps as his lips crinkle. When he doesn’t take any action to remove the fucker, I shake my head. Lifting my hand, I watch as a tiny fireball appears in my palm. “It’s your funeral.” Blowing the sucker from my palm, I snort when it shoots across the room.
The screech from his body is like a shot to my head. The fireball grazes his skin, perfuming the room with roasting chicken. The ball disappears once it makes contact with his body. Whatever the hell his name is, zips to grab the condom and shoves on his clothes before sprinting past me. The moment my front door slams, I sigh. Planting my feet, I drag myself to the door and lock it.
I place my forehead on the door and shut my eyes. My pussy tightens with want, throbbing for something I thought I’d get. Groaning, I spin and perch myself on the door. My eyes scan my apartment, landing on the cream walls. My right fist pounds the wall as I swing my head. Masturbating won’t do shit right now.
“If I can’t have dick, then a drink it is.” Glancing at the clock on the tall coffee table by my door, I see it’s almost one in the morning. Most bars and clubs close at two, so I don’t have time to find anyone. I don’t take the phone numbers of anyone I sleep with. We fuck, and that’s it.
Silence is my only company as I drag my purse off the coffee table. Piles of mail smack the floor, curling my lips into a grimace. On my haunches, I spy the corner of something shiny under other dull mail pieces. Narrowing my gaze, I shove all the mail to the side. Upkeep isn’t my strong suit, nor is taking care of shit. Living with Wren and Meko, my best friends, worked out so well because of this.
Wren can’t help planning and keeping everything in order, while Meko’s annoying personality pushes me to get my shit semi-together. My heart plummets into my belly, burning from my stomach acid, when I see the from name written in cursive on the outside of an envelope.
Asher Aingeal
Blood rushes from my head, spinning it around. I know he didn’t do what I think he did. Flipping the envelope over, with a gentle hand, I open it. When I slide the papers out of the sleeve, my sizzling heart pinches as thousands of stabs shoot through it.
You’re cordially invited to witness the joining of Prince Asher Aingeal and Syeda Troy on September 13th…
The rest of the invite blurs when tears fly on the paper. My throat tightens, squeezing until it locks. Placing my hand over my lips, I gasp when I reread the words. September 13th is less than four months away. Talk about a fucking early birthday present. Several minutes pass of silent cries before I calm. My head spins when I rise off the floor before tossing my purse onto the coffee table. I snatch handfuls of the mail and stomp through my living room to the trash can in the kitchen. Everything goes inside of it, especially that shit.
When I whip open my fridge, I snag the first bottle of wine I can find. I use the electric bottle opener on the counter to open it before raising it to my lips. The bitter taste pours into my mouth and splashes my throat. The first bottle goes down easily. My alcohol tolerance is steadily growing because it seems like I drink daily.
No buzz plays with my mind or emotions, so I get another bottle. A third and a fourth follow those. After I finish the fourth bottle, I glance at my trash can in the corner. My ears ring as if the invite is yelling, screaming for me to remove it. I straighten myself and march to the trash. My legs sway a bit before I use the wall to prevent falling over.
The invite throbs between my fingertips when I reach it. Licking my lips, I glare at the piece of paper. Labored breaths rip from my mouth before I grit my teeth. How fucking dare he send this shit to me? Does he know who I am? I’m fucking Gracen Dominque Altavusta Karfi. Men come crawling to me, begging and pleading for a taste. I’ve never met such a brazen man in my life.
Crumpling the paper, I hiss at the large mirror in my living room. With the items in my purse, I fix my makeup and hair. The deep gold color on my eyelids accentuates my hazelish-purple eyes while standing out on my copper skin. My hair might be a fucking mess because of the colors, but that’s not important. Using a rattail comb, I run it over my curls. Since my favorite hairstylist was murdered a bit ago, it’s hard for me to find someone I like. I thought my days of hopping from hairdresser to hairdresser were over, but they aren’t.
I grab my purse, yank on my six-inch black stilettos and stride to the exit. After shutting and locking my door, I strut to the elevator at the end of the long hall while running my fingers on the wall. My apartment is the only one atop this massive building in The Hartlands. I stab at the elevator once before the metal creeks, alerting everyone in the whole place. The elevator should work better because of how much money I pay for this place every month. However, the elevator is programmed to come to my floor whenever I press the button. It doesn’t matter if someone is on their way down since my floor overrides all others.
When the elevator opens to the garage, the humid breeze from summer douses my skin. The Hartlands is having a hot-ass May for the first time in years. Or at least that’s what they say since the temperature is a steady one hundred three degrees. Yet, no sweat rolls down my body. No dehydration ricochets through me. Thank you, Jake and Asher.
While neither of those feelings spread over my body, my nose twitches a few times as it slowly gets used to the smell of rotten eggs and milk. A smell well-known in the world. One from pollution for a war many didn’t survive. The war in question, also known as The Killings, was one of all species, started by humans but ended in a truce by everyone.
The aroma of rotted meats wafts to my nose, stroking my nostrils and rolling my gut. I can take the other scents. However, this one is deadly, made more overbearing because of the heat, but it’s not like my body has a choice. No matter where you go in the world, the pollution shoved into The Hollow Ocean will chase you. You either get used to it or never leave your fucking house. Since I’m a lady who enjoys the finer things in life, I leave my place at least five times a day.
I stroll to the area where my car is parked. My roommates have exited my luxurious nest, so I’ve started parking parallel and taking three spots instead of two. Fuck’em.
I upgraded my vehicle to an SUV a few months ago because my convertible isn’t people friendly. Not that I like anyone outside of my four friends anyway. After climbing into my car, I start and whip it to the side to leave my parking space. I leave the garage and pull onto the street. My destination isn’t far from my home since it’s in the inner part of the city. Location here is everything. My fingers scratch at my steering wheel as I race through every light. It’s as if the world knows I’m on my way to destroy him.
Music blares from two blocks away. I follow the obnoxious noise until I’m at a parking lot filled with cars. You’d think because it’s summer and hot, people wouldn’t visit a strip club and brothel, but The Hartlands love their share of pussy. I scan the area, looking for one car, before I find it. I mosey along before pulling beside it. Exiting my car and moving to the end, I glance on both sides to watch for cars. To my right is Asher’s car, and somehow, on my left, I parked next to Jake.
The words PrinceJ are written on his license plate, producing a smirk on my lips. Years have passed since we made that bet, but he hasn’t changed them. Shaking my head, I saunter to the front door, passing people in huge coats waiting for entry. Eyes glitter on my skin when I stand beside the bouncer. Dave the Ogre has worked at Scarlet for years, so he’s more than familiar with me. He scans my arms before glancing at the group of people in line.
“No coat,” he mutters. His green skin glows under the flashing lights as he loosens his tie. His suit is stretched tight over his massive body. The man is at least seven feet tall, but looks at me like I’m the scary one.
Good for him.
“Hello, Gracen.” He takes his time going over each word.
I smile at his pronunciation. When I met him years back, he could barely speak, but look at him now. “Sup, Dave.”
“Can I ax why you r her?” His broken English is adorable.
“I need to have a chat with Prince Asher. Is he here?” I ask in my sweetest voice. Dave might not speak well, but he isn’t stupid. He glances at the walkie-talkie on his hip. “Aht, aht, aht. Don’t do that. I’d hate to freeze your hands to the point you can’t use them.”
He shudders at my words and then extends his hand to the outside doors that a red rope blocks. “Have a good time.”
He removes the rope, so I wave at him on my way to the door. The music inside Scarlet is booming. The floor vibrates under my feet as several red lights flash over my skin. Squinting in the hallway, I wipe my nose as a bucket of glitter sprays the area. A rattle of sneezes exits my nostrils and then I swing open the next set of doors. My eyes scan the area, moving over the different stages until I spy the person I’m searching for.
A smirk touches my lips when I see Jameson Mondu standing on the side of the main stage. Her wide grin spreads over her face as she dances to the music while watching one of her people onstage. I’ve never met a more loving person. Well, maybe Veronika, but she’s more violent than Jameson. I use the outer circle of the club to march to her. Jameson spies me when I get closer.
She jumps into my arms, and I lower my hands around her waist. After releasing her, I spin my index finger in a circle, prompting Jameson to do the same. People notice three things the second they see Jameson. The first one is her obsidian skin. Every last inch of it looks silky as fuck. The second is her hair, or lack thereof. Jameson is the only woman I’ve ever seen who can rock a pixie cut or something shorter.
The final thing people notice is her fucking ass. Even from the front, you can tell how big it is. No one has a bigger set of hips and ass than she does. It doesn’t matter if she’s stuffed it into her dress pants.
Her white dress shirt glimmers on her skin. “Hey, boo.”
“Hey, love. You look so cute.”
“Aww. Thank you. I don’t think we had anything planned, right?” Her nose scrunches as she stares off into the distance.
I shake my head. “Nope. I just came to borrow something.”
Jameson scrutinizes my frame as her lips twitch. “I feel like I should be concerned. Should I be? Do I need to call Veronika?”
This time, my face scrunches together. “Hell no. I’m fine.” I pat her on the back and kiss her cheek. “It’s nice seeing you. I need to steal you away from Emmett so we can hang out.”
Her eyes shine at the mention of her fiancé. “Just tell me the time and place. We could do another Galentine’s Day party?”
“Yes! I’ll hit you up to plan it.” I walk to the side of the stage and wave.
Her eyes stay on me the entire time. Jameson knows when I’m about to snap. I arrive at the dressing room for the people on the strip club side. It’s filled with half-naked women and men. Since most of them know me, my greetings are a wave, a flying kiss or a scream. I stroll over to the sex toy table, glancing for something specific. When I find the veiny dildo bat, I snag it off the table. The fucking thing is thick and black, coming in at about three feet. No one bats a fucking eye when I poke my head out of the dressing room. If Jameson follows me, it’s all over.
The area is empty, so I step out. Asher’s office is on the other side of the stage, where I need to walk through the crowd to get to. While the people working here won’t care, I’m sure the patrons will.
My only option is to walk the long hall to the brothel side before taking the back stairs to the upper level. From there, I’d walk down the stairs on the other side before finding Asher’s office. With a plan in hand, I haul ass to execute it.
The brothel manager, Delphine, snorts when she sees me in the doorway of her side. She twists around and stares at the wall. “I don’t see shit or hear shit.”
She’s a real one.
Asher’s office is easier to access than I thought. I attempt to twist the door, but it doesn’t budge. He’s locking his office now. Smart man. Rolling my neck, I close my eyes to find my center. Unlike the man who gifted me this power, fire is easier for me to create and control. Ice is the opposite, also unlike the man who gave it.
My lips tremble when the first shot of ice shoots from my fingers as I touch the knob. Thick sheets of ice encase it. Biting my bottom lip, I gaze down both sides of the corridor. Gripping the bottom of the bat, I swing that motherfucker. The knob clatters to the floor when I connect the two.
I peer down the hallway again before I step into his office and shut the door.
