crouching female came into focus. Holy Christ.
It was HER.
She was better than he remembered. He hadn't been improving through fantasy. And fuck, he'd fantasized a lot. As his hallucination stood and circled the men in the arena, Sio got a good look at her own scars. Three parallel lines slid diagonally across her right cheek, starting underneath her eye. The marks were ugly and oddly appealing, an asymmetry that made the stark way in which she was beautiful more accessible. They turned him on, which was an inappropriate response he wouldn't overanalyze.
She was barely concealed by a strapless shift that fell to her knees. It had slits at both thighs, and only served to accentuate a figure that made him dumb with undiluted lust. The blood in his upper body drained, pooling in his lap, filling his cock until the bastard was beating at his zipper like a battering ram. Sio was light headed and he was hard; so rock solid he could barely think enough to be surprised. He'd wanted a lot of women, but nothing like this.
The choreography of the threesome on stage unfolded with more violence than he'd been anticipating. Showmanship and sensuality distracted from the fight in progress, but not one of the participants was pulling punches. If Sio hadn't spent so much of his spare time brawling he'd have doubted both the spontaneity and the force of the impacts. There was no question though, they were connecting and they were doing it with force. The woman in the arena was rolling out moves he'd never seen before with a wicked precision that came by way of a lifetime of training and a complete disregard for safety.
The bleach blonde with the lip ring and the red breeches grabbed her, dragging her along the ground and up against his body. Sio sucked in a shallow breath, fist clenching, until he bent the fork he'd been holding like a dagger for an indefinite amount of time. He was lucid enough to wish with frightening intensity that it had been the guy's neck.
She smiled, baring her teeth, and Sio's stomach went tight. She elbowed Lip Ring in the face. The dirty blonde with the goatee brandished a dark leather bolo whip from somewhere and wrapped it around her throat, pulling her towards him as she hammered him with vicious maneuvers that lent her the advantage. In a moment of intimate proximity that fucking goatee shrouded mouth descended toward hers and she went rigid.
The room was silent. Sio stumbled to his feet before he could stop himself. He was so cold he was damn near hypothermic. In the periphery he heard someone muttering about the temperature, but he was way too worked up to care. He held his breath, wondering if he was going to embarrass himself by tackling the guy in the middle of the show over a kiss. Shit, probably. He was irrational, completely out of control.
Goatee was seconds from laying claim to her mouth when she head-butted him in the face. Lip Ring blocked her escape and she dropped to the floor and hit him in the knee with a sickening crack. The guy's leg buckled, and he grinned like it was foreplay. Somewhere in the back of his short-circuited brain Sio realized he was moving, hauling ass toward the floor...toward her. She looked up, gaze swinging to meet him and the moment was electric.
Incendiary.
Those amber eyes practically felled him.
She lunged toward him, as the fire between them burned its way through his lungs.
They were almost at the wall when Goatee coalesced behind her, pinning her arms and yanking her backward. Lip Ring was right behind and the son of a bitch buried a thin silver dagger up to the hilt in the side of her neck. The removal sent a bright red flume of arterial blood into the air. It was burning hot and wet, soaking the front of Sio's shirt as he barreled toward the vanishing trio. They dissolved the way they had come in, like a mirage, right in front of him.
He was yelling where he stood by the arena wall. He couldn't hear himself, he knew only because his throat was raw with it.
It was HER.
She was better than he remembered. He hadn't been improving through fantasy. And fuck, he'd fantasized a lot. As his hallucination stood and circled the men in the arena, Sio got a good look at her own scars. Three parallel lines slid diagonally across her right cheek, starting underneath her eye. The marks were ugly and oddly appealing, an asymmetry that made the stark way in which she was beautiful more accessible. They turned him on, which was an inappropriate response he wouldn't overanalyze.
She was barely concealed by a strapless shift that fell to her knees. It had slits at both thighs, and only served to accentuate a figure that made him dumb with undiluted lust. The blood in his upper body drained, pooling in his lap, filling his cock until the bastard was beating at his zipper like a battering ram. Sio was light headed and he was hard; so rock solid he could barely think enough to be surprised. He'd wanted a lot of women, but nothing like this.
The choreography of the threesome on stage unfolded with more violence than he'd been anticipating. Showmanship and sensuality distracted from the fight in progress, but not one of the participants was pulling punches. If Sio hadn't spent so much of his spare time brawling he'd have doubted both the spontaneity and the force of the impacts. There was no question though, they were connecting and they were doing it with force. The woman in the arena was rolling out moves he'd never seen before with a wicked precision that came by way of a lifetime of training and a complete disregard for safety.
The bleach blonde with the lip ring and the red breeches grabbed her, dragging her along the ground and up against his body. Sio sucked in a shallow breath, fist clenching, until he bent the fork he'd been holding like a dagger for an indefinite amount of time. He was lucid enough to wish with frightening intensity that it had been the guy's neck.
She smiled, baring her teeth, and Sio's stomach went tight. She elbowed Lip Ring in the face. The dirty blonde with the goatee brandished a dark leather bolo whip from somewhere and wrapped it around her throat, pulling her towards him as she hammered him with vicious maneuvers that lent her the advantage. In a moment of intimate proximity that fucking goatee shrouded mouth descended toward hers and she went rigid.
The room was silent. Sio stumbled to his feet before he could stop himself. He was so cold he was damn near hypothermic. In the periphery he heard someone muttering about the temperature, but he was way too worked up to care. He held his breath, wondering if he was going to embarrass himself by tackling the guy in the middle of the show over a kiss. Shit, probably. He was irrational, completely out of control.
Goatee was seconds from laying claim to her mouth when she head-butted him in the face. Lip Ring blocked her escape and she dropped to the floor and hit him in the knee with a sickening crack. The guy's leg buckled, and he grinned like it was foreplay. Somewhere in the back of his short-circuited brain Sio realized he was moving, hauling ass toward the floor...toward her. She looked up, gaze swinging to meet him and the moment was electric.
Incendiary.
Those amber eyes practically felled him.
She lunged toward him, as the fire between them burned its way through his lungs.
They were almost at the wall when Goatee coalesced behind her, pinning her arms and yanking her backward. Lip Ring was right behind and the son of a bitch buried a thin silver dagger up to the hilt in the side of her neck. The removal sent a bright red flume of arterial blood into the air. It was burning hot and wet, soaking the front of Sio's shirt as he barreled toward the vanishing trio. They dissolved the way they had come in, like a mirage, right in front of him.
He was yelling where he stood by the arena wall. He couldn't hear himself, he knew only because his throat was raw with it.
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