The guy literally blew the alcohol out of his mouth, spraying it all over the poker table and the remaining girl who vied for his attention. She made the mistake of trying to kiss his neck, and he got it right in her face.
“Ew, yuck!” she squealed, getting up, and Dorian and Wells threw up their hands.
“What the fuck, bro?” Dorian charged, growling. It didn’t appear Ares had gotten him too, but his buddy had just spat alcohol all over the place.
Ares howled boisterous laughter.
“Holy fucking shit. This is amazing,” he stated, clapping, then directed his finger toward me. “You actually fucking fell for it.”
Dorian and Wells whirled in my direction, Thatcher too.
Thatcher’s women nearly fell off his lap. He actually had to do a double catch just to keep them up there. His jaw dropped. “What the fuck? Sloane?”
What the fuck indeed.
I pranced over, tossing my hair around and looking like an idiot. I propped my hands on my hips. “Hey, guys. Got room for another?”
Wells cleared his lap, Thatcher too, which caused all three of their girls to moan and groan. Thatcher waved a hand. “Come on, baby. I’ll take care of you.”
“Only after me.” Wells was more delicate about it, taking my hand. He kissed it. “I’ll say. You certainly like to make an appearance.”
“Yeah, she does.” Ares was still roaring, but Dorian was not.
Dorian shoved him. “What the fuck?”
“Chill, bro.” Ares threw a hand at him, finally calming down a little. “She can take a joke. Why can’t you?”
“Because she shouldn’t have to.” Dorian stood, and it was like the record stopped. All laughter completely left Ares’s lips, his smile wiping away.
Dorian never had one.
The dark prince was steamed for some reason. Red was chasing up his neck, and when Ares opened his mouth to say something, he never got the chance.
His buddy was too busy taking me away.
Dorian literally jerked me by the arm out of the room, being more than forceful about it. I threw him off me outside the door. “What the fuck?”
“You, what the fuck?” he growled, then snatched my arm again. I punched at his big, meaty grip, but this guy gripped footballs for a living.
He wasn’t letting go.
“Get your hands off me,” I bit out, then he physically picked me up. He tossed me like a fucking sack of potatoes over his shoulder. I got nothing but the sight of a muscled ass as he walked me up a spiral staircase.
I kicked and screamed the whole way, physically punching at his perfect ass, but that only made him slap mine.
“Hit me again, little fighter, and I’ll be owning this,” he warned, his hand cradling my ass still. He squeezed, his palm rough through my underwear, and I thought he’d rip them off.
He gratefully didn’t.
He just continued to walk, and people passed us like this wasn’t unusual. Like this ape of a boy did this all the time, and this was simply normal. Eventually, we stopped at some room, but he didn’t set me down.
He threw me on a bed.
Fear caused me to back up on it, not fucking playing anymore. This guy had come at me before, and he’d definitely do it again.
Dorian smirked at me, as if I was an idiot for the thought when he studied me on the bed. He shook his blond head before heading over to a set of dresser drawers.
“Can’t help but make noise,” he gritted, seemingly to himself as he rooted around in it. Next thing I knew, he was tossing clothes at me. Boy clothes.