((18+ - V SPICY you have been warned))

A groan tumbles out of my mouth as I lean back into him. I'm burning up from the inside out and the only salve seems to be his touch.

"Easy," he murmurs, moving his hand from my waist to cup my pubic bone. "Stay still."

He hooks his finger inside of me, rubbing it in a particularly sensitive spot. I shudder, fighting the urge to slump against the stall door. It's unlike anything I've ever felt before, making me desperately yearn for something more but also mourn the thought of its end.

His fingers creep down to my clit, the rough pads resting over the sensitive flesh. A desperate breath puffs out of my throat when the caress never comes.

"Getting impatient?" He brushes the bud lightly, watching me shiver against him.

"Yes," I bite, grunting fervently when another ghosting stroke sends a trill of urgency to my core. One of my hands reaches down to press his hovering fingers firmly against me, grinding shamelessly against the touch. "Fucking touch me already."

He chuckles, the baritone purr rumbling into my back. Sinclair leans forward, brushing a gentle kiss to the back of my neck. "You are such a virgin."

I turn my head enough to shoot him a look that warns him to shut his mouth. His answering leer is unfazed as he adds another finger inside of me.

"Shit." I've only been touched by some half-wit angel blood and the twat at the bar, and even then it hadn't gone on long enough to stretch me like this. It's not painful, but it's uncomfortable at first as I grow accustomed to the size.

Sinclair's fingers are brisk and unfaltering as they dip inside of me but he eases his pace when he notices the way I tense against him. "You alright, angel?"

"Yeah." I move my hips against his hand for good measure. "I just need to get used to the size is all."

"You're tight as fuck," he rasps, drawing them deep inside and rubbing that little spot that has me quivering against him again. "Has anyone touched you before?"

"The technical answer is yes." I'll leave it at that. I don't think going to detail about getting finger-fucked by other men will go over well with him, even if neither one of the experiences were anywhere near the realm of this.

He's silent as his pace quickens, the urgent thrusts making my legs shake with effort to keep me upright. His other hand reaches down to pinch my clit and a full-body shiver rolls through me.

I laugh at his sudden intensity although it comes out strained. "Jealous, Mr. Big Bad Demon Man?"

"Angel."

A cry tumbles past my lips as he rolls the bundle of nerves between his fingers. The tickle of my arousal dribbles down my thighs. "Yes?"

"You should shut up unless you want to taste my cock on those pretty little lips."

The threat undoes me. I rock my hips, burning from the inside out. My body takes over as I clench around him, grinding against his fingers that move in lazy circles over my clitoris.

A breathy groan escapes my lips. I feel high-strung, a bundle of want and need and contentment as my release shakes me.

He makes a small sound in the back of his throat. "That was fast."

"Shut up, Black."

He eases out of me, palming my ass with his other hand. "Turn around."

I do as he says even though my muscles ache with the movement. I have the urge to curl up in a ball and nap like a cat that's just finished licking up a bowl of cream.

I stiffen as he kicks open my legs and crouches between them, leaning so close his breath brushes over the sensitive skin of my cunt. "What are you doing?"

He blinks lazily at me. "Eating my fill." He leans forward and presses his mouth against the raw flesh of my pussy.

I squeak as he runs a tongue through the folds, lapping at the wetness like a starving man. My face flushes, the heat of embarrassment and arousal burning brightly inside of me.

"Sin." I gasp as he traces the sensitive skin with his tongue. "Wait, it's still—oh shit." I jolt as if I've touched a live wire as he runs the delicate touch of his tongue over the bud. How can something feel so good but ache at the same time?

When he gently pulls it between his teeth, something breaks inside of me. "I want you to fuck me."

He presses a kiss over the stinging touch and then glances up at me. "No."

My brow furrows. "No?"

"No," he says again. "You're not ready."

I scoff, batting away his head half-heartedly. He lets me push him away briefly before reclaiming the same spot with his mouth. "I say when I'm ready or not. Not you."

He hums a sound of lax acknowledgment, the vibration making me shudder against his lips. "You can barely take two fingers."

I make a noise of frustration as I grind against his tongue, showing how ready I already am for more. "I don't care."

Sinclair huffs out a wry breath. "Don't be a brat." His fingers find my cunt again, working the spot he knows will be my undoing. "Now shut up and cum."

When he leans forward and sucks me between his lips, I can't help but tip over the edge. I pull his hair, whimpering as my overstimulated clit aches under the flick of his tongue, my pussy pulsing greedily around his hand.

He waits until I still before withdrawing, readjusting my skirt before rising from the floor. His erection strains against his pants, looking hot and heavy and ready for my touch.

His hand catches mine as I reach out to run my fingers along its significant length. "No."

My brow furrows, rejection stinging inside my chest. "No?"

"No." He has the nerve to smooth down my hair and pull up my dress so it covers all the exposed parts of my body to make me look presentable again. For some reason, I don't slap his hands away.

"Why?"

"Because I said so."

Fury ignites in my chest. "You're such a—" Asshole. Bigot. Fuck-wad, but for some reason I'd still let you bend me over and bang me. Nothing seems good enough to describe the itching feeling to plant my fist in his face, so instead I spin and push the stall door open. "Eat a bag of dicks, Black."

...

"So you're the angel with clipped wings."

I'd wandered back to the bar. Not to drink. I just don't feel like seeing Sinclair's annoying face and ironically enough, this seems like the best place for having time to myself.

I glance at the voice behind me, sighing as a set of hazel eyes meet mine. "Go away."

He smiles crookedly and slides into the stool next to me instead.

"Christ." I take a sip of soda in my glass, staring a hole into the bar counter as if not looking directly at him will convince him to go away. "It's the night of annoying fuckers."

"Trouble in paradise?"

I glance at him, brows raised. I hardly look rumpled enough for him to know about Sinclair.

"You smell like sex," he says, a charming smile pulling over his mouth. If I weren't transfixed with another set of lips, the action would undo me. "Not to mention Sinclair is staring at you like he wants to bend you over the bar."

I huff out a dry laugh.

His brow furrows. "Am I missing something?"

"Your balls if you keep talking to me."

He tilts his head back and laughs, the sound rich and deep. "I'll have a lot worse coming to me if I leave you alone. Sorry, Calli."

"You know my name," I murmur sullenly. His dimples flash at me. "I take it you're my new babysitter?"

"If you want to call it that, sure." He waves over the bartender and orders an orange juice. I'm not sure whether I should laugh or cry: although his face and smile are gentle and he apparently prefers juice over alcohol, there's no doubt that a monster hides underneath it all. "You can call me Theo."

From the pleasant look that's settled over his face, I take it he expects me to respond. I look away, hoping the scowl that plasters over my own will be enough for him to take the hint to shut his mouth.

My dreams are quickly shot down as he leans in close to me. "So, is Calli short for anything or—?"

"Theo."

He blinks, looking too normal for his own good. Who knew I'd ever miss Oliver's permanent glower. "Yeah?"

"Please shut your mouth. I need time to myself."

"No can do, Calli-girl."

"Jesus. Don't call me that."

"Only if you tell me what it's short for." That trap of a smile stretches over his mouth again. Somehow it's even more dangerous than Sinclair—it's warm and inviting and beckons me to tell him all my darkest secrets as if he's someone I've known and trusted my entire life. "But anyway, there's a couple of Capponi's men looking at you like how a fat kid eyes a cookie jar across the bar. So you know, I'm here. As your personal guard dog to scare them off and all that."

It takes me a moment to find them. Both of them lounge in the portion sectioned off for the supernatural, looking particularly dark and dangerous. When my eyes meet theirs, twin sets of grins stretch over their faces.

"Damn," I mutter, quickly glancing away. Across from them sits a familiar head of dark hair, clearly rumpled from my fingers. "Is that Sinclair?"

"It is. Finishing up business, I presume."

"Business," I echo, brows drawing together. I straighten, forcing my voice to soften with what I hope sounds like nonchalance. "What kind of business does Sinclair conduct anyway?"

((a/n: This chapter took hella editing so sorry if you spot any mistakes lol my brain is 100% fried. I'm probs gonna go back and retouch things later. Also thinking abt what story I should write after I finish this but I'm indecisive af. What do you guys think, should I do a mafia or another dark paranormal romance?? Either will be spicy ofc 😌))