His hands went to the front of his hips and he sprang his arousal by ripping the fly of the loose pants in half.

Paradise’s eyes rolled in her head, but she forced them to focus because she wanted to see him.

Wrapping his big hand around his thick shaft, he began to stroke himself. He didn’t watch what he was doing; his eyes were on hers. And in spite of the heat between them, there was something intrinsically remote about his expression.

He wasn’t going to take her, she thought.

Except her confusion and disappointment got shelved as he arched up and started to orgasm all over her sex.

He might not be willing to take her body fully.

But he was marking her for all he was worth.

Spreading her legs wide, she exposed herself completely and let him torture himself on a rack of his own doing, his releases covering her core, hitting her in hot bursts that stroked her.

She might have been a virgin … but she knew down to her soul that this was a battle he was going to lose.

Maybe not tonight, but soon, he was going to crack and make love to her.

And she couldn’t wait.

Chapter Thirty-seven

Two nights later, Butch finally got free to take his shellan to a sex club.

Yeah, like he’d ever thought of a date night like this one?

As he waited for her in the mansion’s foyer, he paced around and felt like he was pulling a Halloween in the dumb-ass getup he had on. The black leathers were fine; the black muscle shirt was also okay. The rest of the shit was …

What the fuck was he wearing?

Pulling the long black coat out in a fan, he got a whole lot of black leather, fur, and silk. The thing was huge, and yet it barely brushed the ground because he was wearing a pair of lifts that made him taller than Wrath.

New Rocks?

He’d borrowed them from Axe, and they buckled up from the toes to just under his knees. Also weighed fifty pounds, but were surprisingly stable and comfortable.

And then there was the mask. The thing was a front plate made of thin metal and plastic, and when he strapped it on and applied proper adhesive, it covered his entire face with a gray-white-and-black skeletal horror that moved when he spoke.

Yup, it was mask night down at the Poke ’n’ Play, and far be it from him not to fit in with the crowd.

He took out his phone and checked the time. Marissa had come over from the Pit to hang out with the girls to get ready—and the two of them were going to head to the club together while Axe was driven out separately from the training center.

Clomping around the mosaic apple tree, he was amazed at how okay he’d become with taking Marissa with him on this sojourn into the dark and the seedy. After that talk he and his shellan had had, though, it was like something had unlocked in him, some twisted, painful muscle spasm of his internal wiring had loosened and uncoiled, allowing him to breathe more easily.

He’d hated the rough spot they’d found themselves in. He fucking loved the new vista, though.

As if on cue, he sensed his mate at the top of the grand staircase. Turning, Butch looked up and—

Enagbu jioa kdf ahtaj; fjjkd powkl.

Or something to that effect.

Gone was his beautiful princess in the designer clothes. In her place was … a freaky-deaky erotic sexpot wearing shrink-wrapped black latex from her mile-high stilettos all the way up and over her head. The only thing that marked her identity? The long blond ponytail that came out of a hole in the top of the full-body/facial suit, those golden waves swinging free.

And then there was her mask.

It was like an industrial gas mask, with round black disks for eyes and a nose and mouthpiece that showed no part of her skin because there was a seal around the latex that covered her face. Made of black glass and burnished gray metal, it was an ugly piece of absolute art.

As she came down at him, his cock punched out an erection so quickly, he actually had to look to make sure the fly of his leathers was still intact.

Her body was … absolutely, fucking insane, the light stroking down the banging curves of her breasts, throwing shadows around her tight waist, highlighting her hips and thighs.

When she was finally standing in front of him, she did a slow little turn, and holy fucking shit, the mechanized sound of her breathing made his balls tighten. Well, that and her ass. Dear God in heaven above, her—

“Well, what do you think?”

The voice that came out was not hers; it was distilled through some kind of sound box, emerging tinny and distorted and alien.

“Ojkdla hgdio lweno io.”

“What?” came that electronic voice.

“He said you are fuuuuucking ammmmmmaaaazing,” came a male voice from across the way.

Butch’s head whipped to the side and he glared at Lassiter, who’d come out from the billiards room and was lounging against the archway. Pegging the moron with his forefinger like the thing was a gun, he snapped, “Get your miserable ass back into that fucking room before I cut your eyes out and strangle you with your own tongue.”

The fallen angel put his palms up and wheeled away. “Right. Leaving. Here I am, walking back and saying absolutely nothing about her.”

The retreat would have been more convincing if the bastard didn’t let a huge wolf whistle rip as soon as he was out of range.

“I’m going to fucking kill him, I swear it.”

“Please don’t.”

Refocusing, Butch just shook his head. “Oh, my God, you look … hey, I’m back to speaking English. Bonus.”

Bringing her in close, he pressed his body against hers and felt up and down the smooth, slightly sticky suit. With a groan, he bent to the side and moved his hands down to those latexed hips and onto that ass, grabbing her cheeks, squeezing, going farther in between from behind.