In Fury Lies Mischief Read online Amo Jones (Midnight Mayhem #2)

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Angst, Dark, Erotic, New Adult, Romance, Suspense Tags Authors: Series: Midnight Mayhem Series by Amo Jones
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Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 104753 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 524(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 349(@300wpm)
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He drops down onto a chair, bringing me with him.

Can I swallow everything just for this? Can I offer myself the forgiveness that I will need to have after tonight?

I’m Kiznitch. I have to. We’re bred stronger, raised smarter, and groomed to sharp precision. With that thought hyping me, I swing my legs over his waist until I’m straddling him.

He looks up at me from his position, his head tilting back and his hands on my ass. I can do this. Only he would be the first Brother or Kiznitch to sleep with me. I’ve kept my seals pretty tight.

Hooking my arm around the back of his neck, I grind against his crotch to the beat before leaning down to his mouth, sucking his bottom lip into mine and tugging it between my teeth.

He groans, and I shit you not, that sound alone was enough to rouse every single sensation the human body has and have it roaring to life. He wraps his arm around my back, pulling me in closer, as if I wasn’t close enough.

Sucking in a deep breath, I bring my lips to his and kiss him. He opens, allowing me access and my tongue dives inside, licking every curve that I can. His tongue is soft, his lips weak. He raises his hips to meet mine, his swollen cock pressing exactly where I need it to be.

Holy shit. Sweat and heat surges from me, and I no longer care. No longer care that he and I are beefing right now. No longer care that I’m probably going to be mad at myself when all is done. I. No. Longer. Care. Willing to throw everything out the window, I need to fuck this man and I need to fuck him now. Maybe Perse was right, or maybe I’ll just use that as an excuse to get me through the guilt. The chorus to the song couldn’t be more appropriate, as his thumbs hook around the band of my shorts. Goosebumps swell over my flesh as he slowly slides his fingers against my hips, then to my back. The gesture is simple, but with the music, the lighting, the tension between Killian and I, and the inflamed sexual tension that seems to persistently masticate between us, it’s enough to have me wet and ready.

I reach down, unbuttoning his jeans with one hand. I know the final show isn’t for us, it’s for the audience. If you have sex, it has to be in a manner that is pleasing for the crowd.

No missionary.

No—whatever this is. It has to be out and open for people to see. He knows this, I know this, and yet, neither of us are willing to change position. My movements become a little frantic as sweat drips down my temple, desperate for a release. His hips tilt up, allowing my hand to slip beneath his jeans.

I moan at the connection of my palm wrapped around him. My forehead falls against his hard shoulder as I pump him softly. His other hand comes to the front of my shorts.

“Take these off. Now,” he growls into my ear, the warmth of his demand ingraining into my skin.

I obey, sliding off his lap.

He looks up at me, reaching for the cigarette that was tucked behind his ear, and brings it to his mouth. He flicks his Zippo—my damn Zippo—open and lights the end. Blowing out a cloud of smoke, he spreads his knees wide. “And make it sexy.”

“Dark Times” by The Weeknd starts playing, and I slide off his lap, ignoring everyone else around me.

Unzipping my shorts, I shuffle out of them, making sure to bend right over for the crowd as they slide down my slender legs and fishnet tights. I look over my shoulder just as Maya catches my eye. She looks a little traumatized in the corner, sitting in the dark alone. I block her out before I overthink something, kicking the shorts to the side before dropping to the ground, spreading my legs wide. A spotlight comes onto Killian, and I start crawling across the ground, unbuttoning my crop top and tearing it off, leaving me in nothing but my bra, panties, and fishnet tights with thigh-high boots. I grip onto his knees, ignoring the smirk on his mouth and the way his jeans are unbuttoned. He looks unreal from here. My mouth waters. When the chorus plays, I stand, stealing the smoke from his fingers and placing it in my mouth. I inhale, exhale, before flicking it away and rolling my body over him, his cock rubbing my slit perfectly. Leaning forward, I drag my tongue along his jawline, the makeup sticking to my taste buds. Untying his bandana from the back, I slowly hook it around my neck, and knot it.

Killian leans forward, gripping me from my waist and spinning me around to face the crowd. Only not only am I facing them, I’m also facing Kyrin.


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