“That’s not true!” Cleo cried.
David snorted beside her and Cleo whipped her face sideways to look at him. “David?” she asked breathlessly.
David shook his head, smiling. “That’s bullshit, Cleo,” he said.
Jason bent forward to look at her, his eyes sparkling with mirth and lust. “Come on, Cleo baby. You’ve been at each other’s throats for years. Give him a break and just admit it.”
“I won’t admit anything!” she cried, turning to Sebastian, her chest heaving, her eyes shooting daggers at him. “I won’t take my clothes off, Sebastian. I won’t do it.”
“That’s all right. I think I can dispense them without your assistance.” With little effort he tore her cotton sundress, ripping the fabric off her body as she cried out a protest and struggled to free herself. From afar, Haley and Luella also protested, too drunk to think coherently or understand the real issue here, instead shouting something about expensive women’s clothes and how Sebastian ought to pay for that.
When Cleo almost yanked her shoulders out of their sockets from her efforts, she stilled her arms and thrust her legs into the air, kicking wildly, shrieking while Sebastian, deftly avoiding her blows, reached for her panties and tore them off her like paper. Cleo cursed both him and his bitch of a mother and he seemed amused by that as he reached for her bra, the last shred of cloth that covered her. The sound of the fabric tearing echoed in the night, until a deathly silence befell and all they could hear were the ragged sounds of Cleo’s breathing as she went completely still, fully naked now, her body exposed to the sky and wind like an offering.
“Shit, will you look at the size of those tits!” Jason said beside her.
Gasping for breath, Cleo fought to free herself once more. “Let go of me!” she screeched.
The men yanked her arms farther behind her, their fingers digging into the tender flesh of her wrists as they forcefully stilled her.
Sebastian’s eyes roved over her body in a silent caress that heated the insides of her treacherous body like a forest fire running out of control. Her body shook with wanting but Cleo knew better. The last time her body begged for chocolates she’d given in—and ended up red and bloated with allergies for weeks. She wasn’t about to listen to its demands now, not now when it had no idea what was good for her.
“My God, you’re beautiful.” Sebastian choked on the words, his gaze greedily absorbing every detail of her body. She could swear his eyes touched her, for she could feel them brushing over her hot, fevered skin with the gentleness of a feather.
Beside her, David and Jason looked at their leisure, their gazes shining with lust at the sight of her ripe, round breasts.
“I could suck those babies forever,” Jason mumbled.
“Sebastian,” Cleo begged softly, her eyes pleading with his. “Please don’t.”
Something flickered in his eyes, something dark and haunting. “Save the begging for later, beautiful. And stand up so I can look my fill.”
“No!” she squealed, even as she was hauled upright by her captors.
Cleo felt her legs tremble beneath her and found she could only remain on her feet beca
use of David’s and Jason’s support. Sebastian circled her, his eyes missing nothing. She yelped when he slapped a hand to her buttock, bouncing her muscle with the hit and making her skin sting afterward.
“Hmm. Nice.”
He smacked her other buttock with a harsh slap and she bit her lower lip to muffle the whimper that came. His finger dipped into the crevice between her cheeks, up and down, slowly following the curve of her rump, and Cleo swore she would faint.
Then Sebastian resumed his circling once again, his steps painfully slow as he walked around her.
Cleo’s eyes landed on the plush red devil that lay untouched on the sand a few feet away from her. It was as if the thing had possessed them. That harmless little toy had turned this game into a nightmare.
“Look at me.”
Cleo gritted her teeth, refusing to look at Sebastian, instead keeping her gaze fixed on the toy devil, the least menacing of the two. At least that devil wasn’t a hypocrite. At least that devil carried its pitchfork and tail and didn’t pretend to be something it wasn’t, while Sebastian sometimes did, and it was cruel.
Cleo remembered many times—too many to forget, even though she’d tried—when Sebastian had been good to her. He’d hugged her when she’d missed an exam, kissed her temple oh-so softly. Studying had been of utmost importance to Cleo and he’d occasionally let her cry about her college tragedies in the comfort of his arms. And yet after every one of these surprising, unexpected moments, he would transform in the blink of an eye and become…mean. He would then mock her, tease her, sneer at her, making the memories of those too-brief tender moments as painful as his taunts.
He’d even danced with her once. Sebastian despised dancing, but he’d done so because she was the only girl at the party sitting down lonely and with a lump in her throat…
When the song started, Cleo held Sebastion nearly at arm’s length, keeping a safe distance between them, like she’d do with anyone else. But he wasn’t anyone else. He was Sebastian Russo, and he immediately protested, a low vibration rumbling in his chest as he grabbed her waist and pulled her forward. “Please don’t, Bas,” Cleo said shakily, but he pressed her to him anyway, despite the slight push of her palms at his shoulders.
He was taller by at least a head, and far bigger and stronger. His grip was not in the least bit gentle and she shouldn’t have been aroused by the harsh, possessive way he held her waist. But it did arouse her. Uncomfortably, embarrassingly so.
Cleo kept her eyes averted, taking care to look at the couples dancing beside them instead. Just being near him made her feel needy and she had to check back the impulse to cling to his massive, hard male body as it soothingly rocked against hers.