Chapter 29 #3
Sleep, Brex. I curled into myself, trying to clear my mind.
I heard him exhale, the chair creaking as he shifted. Minutes passed, and every second the need to look over at him intensified.
I fought. I really did.
Giving in, I glanced over my shoulder. His silhouette sat in the chair, his head tipping to one side, his massive frame not fitting the decrepit, small wingback.
“You’re sleeping there?”
Half hidden in shadows, his head turned to me.
“Figured the princess of Leopold would prefer the bed to herself.”
“Stop calling me that.” I gritted my teeth. “Plus, I’m not so uptight and prudish as you seem to think I am.” My alcohol-influenced tongue spoke before my mind could tell it to shut up.
“Really?” The simple word licked up my spine, twisting my stomach, making me wonder what the hell I was doing. It held so much implication in six letters.
I had “slept” with Caden all the time. We did it a lot as kids, and it never really stopped, especially after I lost my father.
He was my anchor. His nearness and warmth kept me from drowning in agony.
It ebbed when other girls started taking my spot, but every once in a while, he’d climb in next to me, curling up like we were kids.
If I could handle sleeping next to Caden, who I was in love with, I could certainly deal with someone I felt nothing for.
“Whatever,” I huffed. “If you want to stay in the chair, I’m perfectly fine with taking up the entire bed.
” I flopped back down on my side, pulling the blanket over my shoulder.
The seconds ticked by. Nothing happened.
A stupid feeling of disappointment and embarrassment pricked at me, arousing anger in me. I tucked deeper into the lumpy pillow.
Only at the sharp creak of the chair, followed by the sound of his footsteps, did my eyes snap open, my pulse leaping into my throat. Forcing myself not to peer over my shoulder, acting as if I were either asleep or didn’t care, my muscles locked down.
The mattress dipped, and the frame groaned under our weight as he moved down on the full mattress, his enormous build consuming more than half of it, so close I could no longer breathe. His knee brushed my ass as he settled on his back. In one second, I was sober. Awake. Alive.
Danger, my mind yelled as my nerves purred with the contact. I squeezed my eyes shut, pretending I didn’t feel his presence or his heat smacking against my back like a whip.
He exhaled loudly, the bed shifting again.
Fuck me.
Go to sleep, Brex.
Letting out an exhale, I tried to relax, letting my mind retreat, concentrating on my exhaustion, forcing my mind on Caden again.
Thump. Thump. Thump. The noise hit the wall, and my lids lurched open with alarm and dread.
“Oh shit! Oh shit,” a man’s voice moaned loudly.
“You want that, don’t you?” a woman asked.
No. Please. No.
“Yesssss,” he hollered louder.
“Fuck me harder, bad boy. Spank me . . . yeah, that’s it.” A woman wailed dramatically through the wall as slaps and the sound of a bed creaking filled my veins with heat. “Oh, gods! Oh, gods! Yesssss!”
Oh, my fucking gods . . . Frozen, I couldn’t even breathe.
The pounding against the wall vibrated our bed like a quake.
A giggle tore down the hallway, followed by men hollering back at their friends, then a door slammed on the other side of our room.
In a whorehouse, sex was going to be rampant, but I didn’t think about it seeping into this space, crawling up my thighs, and shredding through the fragile bubble I was in.
Not while I laid barely dressed next to a man who wore only a towel and was so sexually charged, he could light up an entire country.
Pinching my lips until it hurt, the sliver of oxygen going into my lungs stumbled and fell, causing me to suck in sharply. I could barely breathe.
Warwick hadn’t moved, to the point it was unnatural, only adding to the tension between us.
Sweat beaded along my spine. I wanted so bad to kick off the covers but didn’t want to show I was being affected. Especially when noises started in the room on the other side of us.
“Fuck! Yes! You want my big fucking cock?” The man in the first room grunted like a pig, frantically banging against the wall.
“Yes! Oh, gods, yes,” she cried out, sounding more like a bad actress, but he didn’t seem to notice, nor did my body. “I’ve never had this big before.”
Lie.
A bedframe from the other room thwacked against the wall, along with loud moans.
I wanted to cry. Perspiration pooled between my legs and breasts, need aching my core.
“Oh, gods!” The woman in the first room shrilled as he bellowed, their release flooding our room.
Warwick shifted, his leg grazing me again, my body jerking at his touch.
“Bed’s small.” His voice was gruff and thick.
“Yeah.” Mine squeaked. “It is.”
While the one room went silent except for the sound of them exiting, a thump hit the ceiling from the room above us.
Warwick mumbled something under his breath, modifying his position, tucking his arm under the pillow, his arm gliding against the skin of my shoulder.
Flames scorched the area he touched, spiraling down my nerves before he jerked away like I had burned him.
“Call me Daddy. That’s right, little boy. Suck me. Harder!” Men’s grunts and groans came from the room across.
I was in hell. I had to be.
My side ached, forcing me to twist onto my back, my frame restless and hot. But I now could see his bare chest out of the corner of my eye, his hardness almost breaking through the thin towel.
Damn. If I thought prison was cruel and evil, now I was about to beg for them to take me back. Days in the hole felt like nothing compared to being stuck in a small bed with Warwick Farkas and surrounded by sounds of kinky sex.
I closed my eyes, demanding the liquor or fatigue take me away. I wanted to turn him and all the thumps and groans into white noise and make them disappear into my head, But his presence pressed against me, scratching at my wall.
Nooo. I shoved back the sensation of him, needing to breathe. Blocking him out, I turned over again, coiling into a ball.
Compelling myself to leave my consciousness, I dug deep into the darkness. After a while, the alcohol finally took me under.
As I drifted off, I swore I heard Warwick mutter, “Fuck! This is hell.”