But I’m not powered by brain cells right now.
I lean harder into him, his features blurring with the amount of alcohol in my system.
“Sure, lead the way.”
He takes my hand and I happily follow him toward the more private room at the back of the warehouse where the more questionable activities happen.
“Get the fuck out,” he barks to a couple of kids who are snorting coke off an old beat-up coffee table.
Being one of Archer’s boys earns him a certain level of respect that means they immediately gather their shit and disappear.
Dax kicks the door closed behind him and takes a predatory step toward me.
“Fuck, you’re beautiful, Emmie.”
I squeeze my eyes closed, wishing the voice was different. Wishing I was back with Theo when he first said those words to me. Wishing that I felt even an ounce of what I did when that compliment fell from his lips.
“Dax,” I say when he wraps his arm around my back, pinning me up against his hard body once more. “Can we just…” I trail off, feeling all kinds of awkward.
“Anything,” he whispers, his lips brushing the corner of my mouth. “You need to relax though, Emmie-Em.”
A laugh rumbles from my chest. Isn’t that the fucking truth?
“Here,” he says, pulling a couple of acid tabs from his pocket. “It’s the good shit I’ve been hiding for the right time.”
I look between him and the smiley face on the innocent-looking paper.
I don’t do drugs—weed aside.
I’ve watched them rip my mum and others around me to pieces over the years.
I’m more than familiar with all the reasons why I shouldn’t, but standing here right now, feeling like the world is crumbling down around me, I have a really hard time saying no to oblivion.
“It’ll make everything seem easier, Em. It’ll take all the bullshit away and just allow you to breathe for a bit.” I stare at him, trying to convince myself this is a bad idea, but I’m not really hearing my own argument. “I’ll take good care of you, I promise.”
My lips part without any instruction from my brain, and he smiles.
“Good girl. You won’t regret it.”
He pops the small tab on my tongue before doing the same on his.
Before either has fully dissolved, his lips slam down on mine, his hands resting gently on either side of my face as he consumes me.
Everything falls from my head and I give myself over to feeling as the alcohol, drugs and desire flood my system.
He walks me backward until my calves hit an old sofa before lowering me down and settling between my thighs.
He doesn’t rush, doesn’t push me into anything that I’m not ready for or willing to do.
We just make out like horny teenagers who are desperate for a connection to someone, to anything.
He grinds against me, driving me higher and higher despite the fact that we’re both still dressed, although my lack of underwear means the sensation of his hard cock and the rough denim of his jeans brings me close to orgasm faster than I expect.
“I fucking knew you’d taste amazing,” Dax murmurs, kissing down my neck, licking and biting my soft skin. “I used to hate that dick for refusing to share you.”
“Oh God,” I moan, my back arching.
Lights begin to flash behind my eyes as the world starts to spin around me.