“No, Mom, I don’t mind at all,” she paused. “I’m happy, actually. You’ve never gone out, had fun. I’m glad you are,” she said quietly. “I’m good. We’re going to write some songs after dinner I think, so take your time.”
I chewed my lip. I was torn. I actually was having a good time. And despite how ridiculous it sounded, I trusted Lexie and her bandmates. If she said they were eating pizza and writing songs, that’s exactly what they were doing. Also, Lexie was a terrible liar. Thank God.
“Okay, Dollface. I won’t be late. Be sure to let me know if you’ve got any number ones brewing. As your Momager, it’s my duty to know,” I told her with mock seriousness.
“Will do, Mom. Love you,” she called.
“Love you to the moon,” I said softly.
I hung up the phone, slipping it in my pocket. I had intended on heading back to the party, realizing I had moved into a dark corner close to the entrance of the clubhouse.
A hand clutched my hip and yanked me into a sweaty body.
“Well, hello there, darlin,’” a voice drawled. “Hanging out in dark corners, dangerous for such a sweet piece like you. Lucky I found you.” The voice reeked of alcohol, his words slightly slurred.
I couldn’t make him out in the dull light, but I could feel his hands running up my sides. Anxiety nipped at me. I wasn’t afraid enough to cry out…yet. I wasn’t even sure if anyone would hear me over the sounds of the music.
I tried to push the groper away. “I was just heading back to the party.” I tried to sound strong but I was unable to extract myself from his fumbling arms.
Suddenly, the sweaty body and the stench was gone. There was an unmistakable sound of flesh hitting flesh, and a body fell to the ground. I flinched slightly when a huge black form stood in front of me. I couldn’t see his face but I knew it was him.
“Zane?” I asked in a small voice.
He didn’t answer me. He merely snatched my hand and dragged me up the porch steps and inside. We entered into a sort of lounge and bar area. The music was pumping and bodies moved everywhere. People were dancing while women straddled men in vests who sat on leather couches. I tried not to focus too hard on that. I didn’t really have time as Zane pulled me through it all at an alarming speed. When we reached a hallway the sounds died down slightly and there seemed to be no one. Various doors were closed with unmistakable sounds coming from them.
“Zane,” I tried again.
He stayed silent and his grip tightened when I tried to yank out of it. I wasn’t scared exactly, but he seemed like he was dragging me though a rabbit warren hallway, and I prayed he wasn’t taking me to some torture chamber like his expression suggested.
We turned into yet another hallway, this one utterly deserted, a dead end. The sounds of the party were well and truly distant now and no moaning lay behind the two doors on either side of the hallway.
“Zane, what are we…?”
Zane’s stormy eyes met mine. “Hands on the wall, ass out,” he clipped roughly.
Desire pooled in my stomach at his words. “Wha–”
His hand shot out, covering my mouth. “Didn’t ask you to talk. Told you. Hands on the wall, ass out,” he commanded in a rough tone.
I swallowed. His words were cold, his face blank, but his eyes flared with desire. At that moment, I didn’t care. That we were in a hallway where virtually anyone could walk up. That he was treating me like his whore yet again. I loved it. A deep, sick part of me loved every second of it.
I turned and placed my palms on the wall, ignoring the fact they were shaking slightly.
“Ass out.” His voice was gravelly.
I complied, my knees feeling weak and he hadn’t even touched me.
There was silence, and I felt his breath at the back of my neck. A finger trailed down my exposed spine. His palms moved to the sides of my ribcage, trailing up to cup my bare breasts roughly. I hissed as he tweaked my nipples. Hard.
“No fuckin’ bra,” he grunted furiously. “Strutting around here, ass and legs encased in that tight shit, not wearing a fuckin’ bra,” he growled, fingers tweaking harder. I cried out once more, my panties already soaked.
“You waltz around like that, you’re begging to be claimed,” he whispered in my ear. “Careful what you wish for, Wildcat,” he murmured. Then his mouth was gone, as were his hands.
I felt him yank my ponytail roughly, pulling my head backward to the point of pain. “You fuckin’ move, I’ll tan your ass so hard you won’t sit for a week,” he promised.
I didn’t make a sound, my body pulsating with need.
He yanked harder. “Got me?”
“Got you,” I whimpered.
He didn’t let go. “You come when I say—you say my name when you come,” he continued.
“Okay, Zane,” I whispered hoarsely.
I felt his breath tickle my face a moment, then he was gone. His hands went to my belt and it clattered to the floor. He made quick work of my jeans and they were around my ankles in an instant. I felt the cool breeze against my bare skin. I was standing exposed in the middle of a fucking hallway. I should’ve been embarrassed, ashamed, not hugely turned on.
Zane didn’t touch me, didn’t prep me. I didn’t need it; I was soaked. Without warning, he thrust into me, filling me. One hand bit into my hip, the other spanned my collarbone. I cried out when he filled me to the hilt, in danger of coming from just that. I felt pressure on my ponytail.
“When I say,” he grunted.
I managed a strangled moan in response.
Then he went for it. He took me, relentless, hard to almost the point of pain, but never beyond. I met him thrust for thrust, desperate for release, holding on.