The woman’s sonorous, voice draws a long, sensuous note and I roll my head along with her voice, imagining it’s Dylan’s shoulders I’m clinging too, not Daniel’s.
I whip my head back up and lean into his chest.
But the scent is all wrong. And the way he holds me, loosely around my waist.
Dylan always grips me, possessively, riding the edge of pinching. When I’m with Dylan, there’s not a moment I can forget who I’m with.
Which is maybe why the last few days have felt so empty and colorless without him. I drop my forehead to Daniel’s chest and his arms close around me.
“It’s too bad you don’t like beating the shit out of people,” he says into my ear. “You and I would have made the best couple.”
That makes me laugh and pull back. “Two subs together? Yeah, that never would have worked. It’s why we’ve been able to be friends all these years.”
Daniel smiles back. “I know, peanut. But alas, you aren’t a mean enough bitch for me.”
He kisses my forehead and then swings me out again. I squeal with laughter as he yanks me back into his chest. I always do, every time he pulls that move. Probably why he keeps doing it any time we find ourselves on a dance floor together. He loves making me laugh and he always knows when I need it.
He does some fancy jazz moves, dancing around me, completely ignoring the tempo of the music. He grabs my hands and we dance double tempo to the music, laughing and probably pissing off all the couples around us who are looking for a romantic moment.
We dance for another few songs until I grab Daniel’s sleeve and go up on tiptoe so he can hear me over the thumping bass. “I need to go to the restroom.”
“What?” he shouts, holding a hand to his ear.
“I need to pee.”
“Huh?”
“I gotta piss!”
And naturally I shouted that when there was a short lull in the music and everyone around us turns my way.
Daniel just grins like the evil shit he is. I punch him in the shoulder and head for the bathrooms.
I smooth my hair down as I head for the hallway back to the restrooms. Damn, I’m thirsty. I should get some water. And order another margarita while I’m at it because I’m coming down off the nice floaty buzz and I—
What—?
I screech as I’m grabbed and roughly jerked sideways into a dark room. The door to the hallway I’m in slams shut and the next thing I know, I’m shoved face first against a wall.
“You think that’s cute? To rub up against another man like that? To be a fucking cock tease?”
It’s Dylan’s voice.
My eyelids flutter shut as his big, manly hand shoves my little black dress up and palms my ass. Then he smacks it. So hard I cry out.
But it doesn’t matter. The music is so loud in the club, no one can hear me.
“A tease is a promise, slut. And you owe me. You owe me big for that fucking show you were putting on out there.”
The way he shoves his groin into my ass, it’s clear how he means for me to pay up.
Why is he here?
The way he left things, God, I should be bitching him out. Demanding answers. He doesn’t call. He doesn’t text. Then he just shows up here and he has the audacity to be jealous!
Or maybe that’s just part of the act? Has he even thought of me the past three days, when I’ve been a mess over him?
“If I was teasing anyone,” I turn and say over my shoulder, “it was Daniel, not you. Not some fucking creeper hiding in the shadows just watching. I want a real man.”
“This real enough for you?” he growls, shoving me down to the ground. It’s pitch black and as my palms hit the tile floor, the smell of lemon-scented cleaners gets even stronger and—is that a mop bucket my shoulder just bumped into?
I don’t have a chance to reach around to orient myself, though, because he lands on top of me. I cry out when he puts his knee in my back to hold me in place while he rips my panties down.
He shifts and the next second, I feel it, his fat cock shoving between my thighs.
I fight and twist underneath him but he leans over, caging me in.
“You want out, little girl, say the magic word.” His breath is hot on my cheek.
But he knows, he has to know—that’s the last thing in the world that I want. It doesn’t mean I’m going down without a fight, though.
He. Didn’t. Fucking. Call.
All week I’ve been going crazy thinking I was alone in this. Thinking that I’d blown it. I ran over every little thing I did and envisioned doing it differently. Anything to make an outcome where he ended up beside me in my bed when the alarm went off.