The Prince is Having a Ball

Part 7

Part 7

 

SANG:

I know I shouldn’t laugh about Kota’s predicament, but I giggle as I climb onto a stool in between Silas and Victor.

“What’s so funny, aggelle?” Silas grips the edge of my stool and effortlessly pulls me over to him, wrapping an arm around my neck and pulling me in close.

“Nothing,” I bite me lip, then look down at his arm. It’s covered in tattoos, and good God, it’s sexy as hell.

I pull his arm out so I can study the designs, “Gabe did these?”

“Yeah,” Silas smirks as I trace them with my fingertips. I kind of want to trace them with my tongue.

When I flip his arm to look at the inside of his forearm I gasp. It’s me--stark naked with my hair wrapped around my body somewhat covering my naughty bits, inside a giant clam shell--just like the Aphrodite.

“That’s my favorite,” Silas says, his eyes dark, intense.

My mouth goes dry. There’s something incredibly erotic about having your bare flesh inked onto your boyfriend’s skin. It’s like the ultimate pledge of possession--even though it’s not permanent.

“Let me see,” North grabs Silas’s arm and pulls it across me so he can get a better look in the dim lighting of the club.

When he finally makes it out, he makes a choking noise, “What the fuck, Si?”

Silas pulls his arm back, “Dude, Gabe drew it. I’m just the canvas.”

He puts his arm back around me, lightly running his fingers up and down my arm, making goosebumps pop up on my bare skin.

I’m feeling naughty again, so I carefully lift my foot up to reach Victor across the table from me. He jumps slightly at the feeling of my foot sliding up his calf, but when his eyes meet mine he gives me a tiny smile, eyes ablaze, before he sets his face into a blank look, giving nothing away to the others.

I slowly glide my foot up and down his shin and inside calf, before resting casually on his knee. I push lightly, forcing his legs open farther apart. I watch as he tugs on the collar of his t-shirt.

“It’s hot in here, isn’t it?” I casually ask, no one in particular, just wanting to say it and see if he’ll break. He doesn’t. He just shrugs. Okay, fine. He wants to play, I’ll play.

Silas continues to caress my arm, drawing light circles with his fingertips absent-mindedly as his eyes roam the crowds for whatever job they’re working on. North does the same, even though he’s not even on the job tonight. You can take the boy out of the work, but you can’t take the work out of the boy.

Whatever--I have my sights on my prince right now.

Now that Victor’s legs are splayed open, I push forward, slowly so I don’t accidentally crush anything with my high heeled boots. I know I hit the jackpot when he stiffens, almost imperceptibly. I tilt my foot forward, like I’m pressing on the gas pedal of a car, and then recede. I do this several times until he’s trying hard to hold in his panting breaths. His cheeks are flushed, and he takes several gulps of his ice water.

North glances over at him then narrows his eyes, “You okay, man?”

Victor nods, “Yep. Good. I’m real good,” his voice is gruff.

I smile broadly, looking away at the crowd. Silas’s hand moves slightly from my arm to brush over the side of my breast. I would think it was an accident if it was anyone other than him. And when it happens again, this time close to the center, I know it wasn’t accidental. I grin up at him, while maintaining a random rhythm with my foot, making sure Victor can’t get comfortable.

When I start to circle my ankle, so I’m making constant contact, swirling around him, Victor tries to trap my foot by closing his legs, immobilizing my side to side movement. His eyes glow as he grins triumphantly at me. He thinks he wins? Ha! I press downward again. Resistance is futile, prince of mine.

Victor finally breaks, grunting and pushing his chair backwards, making it scrape loudly across the floor. I giggle as he yells something about the bathroom.

North and Silas are both looking at me with amusement in their eyes--they know I had something to do with it, but I just give an innocent smile. Really, I want to whoop my triumph to the sky. I love being carefree and feisty.

And the night is still young…