Chapter 38
CHAPTER 38
Squeezed into the cramped stall in the men’s bathroom with Devon, Lisa sat on the closed lid of the toilet. Her dress hitched high enough that the hem gathered around her thighs in wrinkled folds.
Devon’s jeans hung loose around his hips, unzipped and shoved just low enough to bare his cock. The metal frame of the cubicle vibrated as he pressed into her with ragged urgency. One hand was planted on the wall to steady himself, while the other fisted her hair, tugging sharply as he thrust into her mouth, each movement rougher than the last.
“Take me, baby,” he groaned through tightly gritted teeth.
The air had that typical bathroom smell, a pungent cocktail of stale piss, industrial-strength bleach, and the faint musk of countless illicit encounters.
Devon didn’t care, he wasn’t here for the ambiance, his mind was elsewhere.
Eyes squeezed shut, it wasn’t Lisa’s lips he imagined wrapped around him, it was Ethan’s.
The memory of Ethan’s flushed cheeks and wide eyes flashed behind Devon’s closed lids like a drug. The man was intoxicating and maddening all at once. It was obvious he’d been trying to avoid him, slipping away whenever he got too close. But that only made the hunt more exhilarating.
Lisa gagged, pulling back and gasping for air as she wiped at her mouth with the back of her hand. “Woah there, cowboy,” she muttered breathlessly, looking up at Devon with a crooked smile. “You’re kinda big. You’re gonna need to give me a second.”
Her smile faltered and she let out a nervous laugh that she probably thought sounded flirtatious.
Devon wasn’t paying attention. With his eyes still closed, he was blocking out everything except for the image of Ethan—the curve of his jawline, the way his voice trembled when he said Devon’s name like it was both a plea and a warning.
He thrust forward, chasing the phantom image in his head until his thoughts dissolved into pure sensation. A guttural groan tore from his throat as he spilled into Lisa’s mouth, his body shuddering with release.
Lisa coughed and pulled back, wiping at her mouth with a wad of tissue from the dispenser on the wall. There was something almost clinical about the way she cleaned herself up—efficient but detached.
She looked up, tilting her head coyly as she leaned in closer, her lips curling into a sultry smile. “How about you do a little something for me now?” she purred, her voice dripping with suggestion as she reached out to trail a hand over Devon’s chest.
He barely suppressed an eye roll as he zipped his jeans. “Sorry,” he said briskly, leaning down just enough to plant an insincere peck on her cheek before straightening again. “I’ve got something I need to take care of.”
Lisa blinked at his abrupt dismissal before her expression hardened into a frown. She pushed herself to her feet quickly, tugging her dress into place with sharp jerks of her hands as she glared at him. “You’re not sticking around? But Brick and Abbey are waiting for us,” she snapped irritably, fumbling to gather her purse.
“Nah,” Devon replied over his shoulder as he pushed open the stall door and stepped out into the larger bathroom without bothering to glance back. “It’s not really my scene.”
“You’re an asshole,” Lisa hissed as she grabbed another tissue from her bag and began dabbing at the corners of her mouth again.
“Yep,” Devon called back, not missing a beat as he finished washing his hands and strode toward the exit. “You’ve got me pegged.”
The door swung shut behind him and drowned out whatever slew of curses Lisa might have thrown after him.
The noise hit like a physical force, and Devon paused just inside the hall for a moment, surveying the club.
It was a sea of bodies, neon strobes painting everyone and everything in flashes of electric blue and lightning purple. The bar was equally crowded as lines of patrons three-deep jostled for one of the many bartenders’ attention, while others lingered nearby with drinks already in hand.
Devon’s gaze swept over them all with quick and methodical efficiency until it landed on Brick in the far end booth. Abbey was again straddled across his lap, her hands roaming over his broad chest as she whispered something into his ear that made him grin wolfishly.
There was still no sign of Ethan.
Devon’s smile faltered as irritation prickled at the edges of his mind like an itch he couldn’t scratch. Where the fuck was Ethan? That familiar restlessness began to build under his skin as he scanned the room once more.
There were some faces he recognized: regulars who frequented the club almost as often as he did, strangers who blurred together into one indistinct crowd, women who eyed him appreciatively when they caught his gaze, and men who either sized him up or ignored him completely.
But still no Ethan.
He let out an annoyed huff, then leaned back against a wall near the entrance and surveyed the room from a different angle. The night suddenly felt less promising than it had half an hour ago—and far less satisfying than it should have been after what had just happened in that bathroom stall. But then again... he hadn’t been looking for satisfaction—not unless it came with wide eyes, sandy curls and muscles.
Brick was lost in Abbey’s curves as she kissed his neck, leaving red marks. Tequila shot glasses sat abandoned on the table, their burn replaced by the heat of her grinding.
“Goddamn,” Brick muttered under his breath, his voice rough and low, more growl than words. His fingers slid beneath the hem of her dress, palms finding warm skin as he squeezed her ass hard enough to make her gasp and roll her hips against him.
Lisa was gone—Devon’s problem now—and Brick didn’t care. This was what he wanted: Abbey, no distractions, no sharing.
“You wanna dance again?” Abbey purred, her voice dripping with suggestion as she nipped at his ear.
“Hell yeah,” Brick slurred with a lazy smirk, his hands tightening their grip on her. “Let’s go.”
They stood up and stumbled from the booth together like they couldn’t untangle themselves long enough to walk straight. Abbey’s arm looped possessively around Brick’s waist while his cap sat crooked on her head—a trophy she’d claimed without asking.
The club spun around them in a haze of pulsing lights and deafening beats, blurring the lines between a drunken haze and the real world.
Brick barely noticed anything—the crowd, the lights bleeding into neon smears across his vision, or even the way Abbey’s nails dug into his side as she clung to him. But he didn’t need to notice. He didn’t care about anything outside of the moment. Lisa had been a fleeting thought, but he had no intention of letting her ruin what he needed.
And what he needed was to fuck Abbey.
What he also didn’t notice was Devon sitting at the bar, nursing a whiskey on the rocks with a scowl carved so deep into his face it might as well have been permanent.
Devon narrowed his eyes as he watched the couple weave their way through the crowd, Abbey practically dragging Brick in her wake. He swirled the amber liquor around in his glass before taking another slow sip, letting the burn settle in his chest as he leaned back against the bar.
The ice clinked softly when he set it down and his jaw tightened as he exhaled through his nose. He wasn’t angry—not exactly—but there was a simmering heat beneath his skin that refused to be ignored.
Ethan had bailed on him. Left him high and dry. But if he thought Devon was done… he was wrong.
He pulled out his phone and thumbed a text.
Space isn’t what you want.
I know you better than that.
He stared at the words for half a second before hitting send.
Ethan wanted him, Devon was convinced of it—even if Ethan didn’t know how to admit it yet. That nervous flush whenever he’d gotten close… the way his voice would catch in a protest that never fully formed… Yeah, Devon saw right through it all.
“You can run, little bear,” he muttered, tossing a crumpled bill onto the counter for his drink as he stood up. “But you can’t hide from me.”
The night air hit him like a slap when he stepped outside. It was cold, yet it carried an electric charge that prickled along his skin, like a static waiting to be released.
The thrill of the chase burned hot in Devon’s veins, and a smile tugged at one corner of his mouth. There was a storm brewing in his eyes as he shoved his hands into his pockets and started walking.
Tonight wasn’t done—and neither was he.