CHAPTER FOUR #3
I arch again, harder, hips lifting toward her, and she chuckles darkly. She pulls back, gets on her knees between my legs, and parts them with a casual but reverent grace.
I’m dimly aware of cheers, voices, attention shifting around us, but I don’t care. There’s only sensation.
“You wanna feel good, baby?” Rox asks.
My breath hitches. I try to nod. The couch is soft beneath me, but the world has narrowed to her.
To one woman. One touch.
She brushes her fingers over my pussy, moving the fabric of my g-string aside, and I gasp from even that.
Her mouth lowers.
I shudder.
And then—
Oh.
When her tongue touches me, I whimper—a quiet, stunned sound.
It’s soft. Wet. Smooth. Gentle. Stroking up and over the most sensitive part of me, making my insides clench and burn.
Pleasure pours in, rolling through my veins, slow and heavy. Her mouth moves with confidence and patience. She doesn’t rush. Doesn’t grope. She tastes me. Worships me.
The tension builds. I try to stay present, to hold onto something, but the pleasure is too big. Too vast. It swallows thought. It turns the world to velvet.
My breath catches. And when she moans softly into me, like she’s the one getting aroused, it undoes something locked deep inside me.
I dig my fingers into the couch to hold onto something, and I don’t think.
I don’t float away. I stay right here, in my body, in this moment, as the pressure builds and builds until it’s unbearable…then glorious.
I dissolve. I come hard and soft all at once, quiet, helpless, and shivering. And something in me—something I thought had died—exhales.
Rox kisses the inside of my thigh, then looks up at me with a slow, satisfied smile. She pulls my g-string delicately back into place, like she’s closing a book, and slides back up beside me.
My breathing’s uneven. My heart skipping. But I’m basking in the pleasure and release.
In the feeling that, for the first time in weeks—months?—my heart isn’t clawing its way out of my chest.
Billy has his arms wrapped tight around Peach, who’s still straddling his lap.
“C’mon, baby,” he says, voice low and coaxing. “I wanna make you feel good.”
She giggles, covering her face with both hands. “I’m shy!” she protests. “Let’s go somewhere private.”
He smiles, tucking a hand under her chin. “Fine. Let’s go see what that mouth can do.”
She nods, eyes wide, and he lifts her off his lap. As they stand, he turns to Rox. “Keep Max with you, eh, Rox? Or give her to Silas if you see him.”
Rox gives a salute. “Aye-aye, captain. We’ll go find Maze. But don’t worry, I won’t let your pet out of my sight.”
Billy waves her off, already turning back to Peach and leading her away by the hand.
Rox stands and takes mine, lifting me up onto my six-inch heels. Next to her in her combat boots, I’m barely an inch taller.
She pulls me into the crowd, and I can’t believe it. I’m away from Billy, from Silas. For the first time in five or six weeks.
She picks up my leash and drapes it casually over my shoulder, leading me by the hand. For the first time since I got back here, it feels good to walk through the crowd. I feel good.
The high from the joint is mellow and steady, like warm honey in my veins. My shoulders aren’t hunched forward, trying to protect me. My mind isn’t screaming. The noise of the party doesn’t assault my senses. Instead, I lean into it—the pulse of the music, the press of the bodies.
Maybe it won’t always be unbearable here. Maybe, night after night, it’ll get easier. Maybe Billy will lose interest eventually. Maybe Rox will stay.
We reach the bar, and Rox slides onto a stool, patting the one beside her. I sit and she flags down Cash, holding two fingers in the air. He starts pouring without even asking what we want.
“I can’t believe Billy let me out of his sight,” I say, smiling, almost dizzy with how happy I feel at this one small sliver of freedom.
She tilts her head, studying me like I’m an unusual find.
“What can I say?” She shrugs. “Being charming pays off.”
I laugh. A real one, small and surprised out of me.
“You are charming,” I say, and instantly feel stupid.
But Rox grins. “You’re not so bad yourself.” Her gaze drops to the leash draped across my lap. “Kinda hot in a tragic way.”
I don’t know what to say to that.
Cash slides two drinks in front of us, and Rox lifts her cup in a toast.
“To feeling good,” she says.
“To feeling good.”
We down the shots—more tequila. Rox glances past me and lights up, waving.
“Oh, there’s Maze! Let’s go say hi. He’s gonna love you.”
She takes my hand. I slide off the stool and turn to follow her gaze.
Two men are standing a few feet away, mid-conversation. The one facing Rox—shorter, with shoulder-length hair and a close-cut goatee shot through with gray—lights up when he sees her and waves. Cute face. Nice smile.
The other turns when he follows his friend’s eyes.
Tall. Lean. Broad-shouldered. Screaming skull on the back of his O.D. cut.
Bright blue eyes.
Eyes that lock on mine in the same instant I recognize them.
My whole body goes still.
The bar. The music. The voices. It all drops away.
My breath vanishes in my chest.
Because there’s no way to make sense of what I’m seeing.
It’s Wyatt.