“You were right, this is fun. He looks super mad,” Brin says gleefully, taking a step into the booth.
Just as I’m about to follow her, I hit a six-foot-four wall of muscle. “Come with me.”
I’m not sure I can classify what I’m doing as walking because my feet aren’t always touching the ground.
Nate is—very nicely—dragging me through the crowd, but he hasn’t said where we’re going. He hasn’t said anything. Even in his anger, his grip on my wrist is still tender, and he’s using his body as a human shield as he pushes through the sea of drunken Jokers and Playboy Bunnies, making it a lot easier to follow.
At least my costume is original.
Nate murmurs a “Thanks” in the direction of a scary-looking security guard as he takes us down a dark hallway. Stopping outside a black door, he nods in its direction. “In.”
Maybe this is where he murders me and I’ll be on true crime podcasts forever. I cross my arms, shaking my head. “Make me.”
“Your choice.”
I’m upside down over his shoulder before I’ve even had a chance to think about my final words. He walks through a door, then another door, before finally setting me back on my feet.
Looking around as he locks the door, I quickly realize we’re in a very fancy bathroom.
“Do you not like peeing alone? You could have just asked me nicely.”
“Take it off, Anastasia.”
It’s hard not to smile like a Cheshire cat right now. I love getting under his skin; I understand why the guys do it because it’s so easy andsosatisfying. “Take what off?”
Nathan stalks toward me and with every step he takes forward, I take one back until my back hits the wall. The excitement begins to build as I concentrate on his furious face and for some masochistic reason, there is nowhere more excited than the spot between my legs that’s freaking pulsing.
A hand settles on either side of my head and he leans down to my eye level. “Take off Jaiden’s jersey, or I will rip it from your body.”
“You seem angry, Nathan,” I tease, running my finger up and down his scarf. With his face an inch away from mine, I rub my nose against his, enjoying how his breathing slows when I whisper. “I think you need to find a way to channel your rage into something rewarding.”
“I’m so fucking angry with you,” he rasps, capturing my mouth with his. He picks me up, pressing me harshly into the wall, and if I wasn’t dripping wet before, I am now.
I don’t know what to concentrate on as his hands roam my body and his hips press into me. He’s finding this as hot as I am. He’s solid, straining against the zipper of his pants, and when I roll my hips, a groan rumbles in his throat.
I’m supposed to have the upper hand in this situation. I don’t, not even a little bit. I’m needy and desperate, whimpering when his teeth scrape across my hammering pulse.
“Last chance, baby. Which one of us is taking it off?”
“But JJ is my favorite hockey pla—”
I don’t get to finish my sentence before he’s snapped the clasp of my belt, letting it fall to the floor. He pulls the jersey over my head with one swift movement, throwing it across the room away from us.
Every single inch of my body feels blistering; it’s suffocating, maddening. I’m not even drunk, but I feel intoxicated by him, his touch, his smell. It’s unbelievable; the man is dressed as Gru, for fuck’s sake, but I swear one touch, and I’m going to combust.
He looks down at my body and scoffs. The tiny Titans cheerleader outfit I’m wearing is now visible since he’s abruptly stripped me of outfit number one. He pinches my chin between his thumb and finger, tilting my head back. “How much do you like being able to walk straight?”
I tighten my legs around his waist, the anticipation near boiling point. “Never been a fan.”
“Good.”
The sounds that follow are a mixture of moaning and rustling, belt clanging and foil ripping until he’s protected and teasing me with the head of his dick.
I know what he’s doing; he wants me to beg him for it, but the jokes on him because I don’t beg for anything. “Let me put the jersey back on so you can look at JJ’s name while you fuc—”
I don’t get to finish my goading because he sticks the whole fucking thing in with one hard thrust, robbing every single slither of oxygen from my lungs when I gasp.
Nate’s fingers sink into my ass cheeks, using his grip to fuck me even harder, and all I can do is cling on for dear life.