The first orgasm I’ve ever had.
Which only makes it worse. He’s such a piece of shit and yet he can make me come like that, despite him being such a bastard during the whole thing. And why even bother? Why do that, why get me off like that, other than to prove he can? It’s some power trip game with him and I despise him for it.
And yet he remains my only hope, which only makes it so much worse.
The memory of the orgasm buzzes around my body as I force myself through the motions of waitressing. I catch him watching me more than once and I flush red remembering his mouth between my legs and the incredible, back-bending, life-altering, world-shattering explosion of pleasure that ripped down my spine as I came like a thunderclap right into his mouth. God, it’s humiliating and exhilarating, and all I want is for him to pin me down and do it all over again.
At the end of the night, I’m in the changing room with all the other girls. The dancers are putting on their normal clothes and cleaning off makeup, the drink girls are stripping out of their work outfits and putting on something relatively modest for their commute home (or their night out), and I find myself alone toward the back with Juniper as the place starts to empty.
Juniper ignores me at first and I’m not really thinking about her. I’m too busy thinking about what Calvino’s going to do to me next and if I can even survive another full-on pleasure assault like that again. My mind’s a feast of different poses, situations, and pleasures, and I’m surprised when Juniper say my name and snaps her fingers like I’m her hired help or something.
“You know what I think, Gracie?” Juniper stands at the end of the room with her hands on her hips and I look around wondering if anyone else is seeing this shit—but there’s nobody else around. I was too busy having wet daydreams about that asshole Calvino to notice that I let myself end up alone with the one girl in this whole place that hates me more than he does.
“I’m not sure I care,” I say as I throw my backpack over my shoulder. “Sorry, I gotta get going.” I go to hurry past her but she blocks my way.
“I think you’re a gold-digging whore,” she says while staring straight into my eyes like a lioness challenging for her preferred mate. Her lips pull back in a half-smile, half-sneer.
I definitely don’t need this crap right now, and I certainly don’t want to get into it with Juniper all because of Calvino, but it doesn’t look like I have the option. The room’s relatively small, with a few benches and some rundown lockers, and the only exit’s right behind her.
“It’s not like that.” Although it sort of is. I’m not digging Calvino for his money, just his connections. “Can you please let me past?”
“I know you’re staying with him. Everyone’s been gossiping about it behind your back, but they’re too nice to say it to your face.”
“If there’s one thing you’re definitely not, Juniper, it’s nice.”
She grins and laughs like she couldn’t care less that I’m glaring hell at her. “God, Gracie, you pretend like you’re this nice, quiet girl from a small town, but we all know you’re a greedy bitch. You get the best tips, the best customers, and now you need to suck Calvino’s dick too? Why don’t you just fuck back off to your stupid little pathetic coal-mining town and marry your brother like your mom did?”
I try to dart past her. My heart’s racing and angers rolls down my spine and if I have to stand here and take this abuse, I might do something stupid, so I try to get past her, but Juniper’s fast. She slams herself into me, knocking me sideways, and I nearly trip over a bench before I right myself against the wall. Juniper looks shocked that she just basically tackled me sideways, but she gathers herself, marches a step closer, and slaps me so hard across the face I can hear her fake nails clicking along the inside of my skull.
My head jerks back and my hands fly up to my mouth. I groan and lean forward as Juniper stands over me, breathing hard. Pain lances down my jaw and my cheek stings and, my god, I can’t believe she just hit me—and based on the bewildered and rage-fueled look in her eyes, she can barely believe it herself.
“Don’t be stupid, Gracie,” she says and I note the hint of fear in her tone, like she’s wondering if she just made a mistake by slapping the girl who’s living with her boss. “You know what kind of man Calvino is. He’s gonna get sick of you soon and then where will you be? Walk away from him now and let someone else have a shot.”