Chapter 6 Oren #2
Downing the last bit of my drink, I tossed it into the trash before opting to search outside.
There was an outdoor section overlooking extra parking spaces, and judging by the man who just walked past, a few bikers were outside.
Licking my lips, I weaved through the crowd to the doors, slipping through them. Just one decent guy would do.
The humid air slapped my face, but not as much as the two men resting on their bikes.
Their backs were turned, but fuck. Solid builds, tattoos, and one even had black hair.
He was even smoking a cigarette—my kryptonite—and at the realization, I stuffed my hands in my pockets.
My charm was excellent. My fuck game? Even better. So why was I nervous?
Clearing my throat, I opened my mouth to speak, but then the larger of the two turned, and any hope of a hard dick fell because it was fucking Thorne Graves.
As if he could somehow sense my presence, he pivoted.
The remnants of a bruise littered his cheekbone, its hue one I was far too familiar with.
Another lingered on his neck, fingertip impressions still noticeable.
With a cigarette in his mouth, mid-drag, he stopped, his honeyed gaze scanning me as if I were the last person he expected to see at a gay bar.
Why the fuck was he here?
“Valens,” he crooned, his voice far more sultry than I was used to. “What brings you out and about?”
“Graves,” I muttered, flicking my gaze away. “I was out, and now I’m about to leave.” Like I’d remain at this bar with him here. He looked good as fuck, but I wasn’t that desperate. I wasn’t.
His tongue danced across his lips as he pulled the stick of sin from between them. During the brief motion, somehow, someway, the moonlight spotlighted a piece of jewelry I hadn’t noticed.
This motherfucker had a tongue piercing?
“Already?” He dipped his head to the side, feigning a pout. “Something scaring you away? The night’s still young.”
“Scaring me away?” I scoffed, scratching the part of my chest uncovered. “Rather, I’d like to keep the night positive.”
I couldn’t stop looking at the markings covering his skin. Bruising that hinted at nothing but kinky shit, the kind of kinky shit I enjoyed. Was Simon right, and that’s why they went on leave?
“Then keep the night positive.” His chin lifted, gesturing toward the doors I’d exited as if I were some dog being ordered to obey their owner. “Go back inside and play. That seems more up your alley of indulgence anyway.”
“And what would you know about indulgence?” I know I should’ve turned and left, kept the night positive, but God, fuck it, he was impossible not to argue with.
He chuckled, taking a final drag from his cigarette before tossing it to the side. Snuffing it out with his boot, his hand fell to the hem of his shirt, and the next thing I knew, I was greeted with his practically bare upper half.
Tattoos traversed every inch of his skin, not a single patch missing some form of artwork.
It was a mirage of good and evil, a story painted for me to admire.
I’d seen something similar in a museum once.
But I couldn’t put my mind on the exact piece, not when my eyes caught his nipple piercings—twinned to my own.
“Despite your assumptions,” he continued, regardless of my exploration of his body. “I’m rather acquainted with the concept, dove.”
I swallowed and took a step back. Fuck, I needed to go back inside and get away from the godly beauty of his body. I wanted to paint him and sketch the tattoos in my journal. They were gorgeous.
Wait, no. No, the hell I didn’t. It was the liquor making everything more pronounced, even if there was no denying he ticked off all my boxes.
Fixing my shirt, I backed away. “I’m just… I mean, inside. Bye,” I muttered, twisting too quickly for it to be casual. My hip slapped into a chair, almost knocking it over entirely before I caught it, shoving it to the right.
I didn’t look back as I stumbled into the bar, my palms plastered on the side of my face.
That was so goddamn embarrassing.
Immediately walking to the bar, I downed two drinks to ease the sting of my thoughts. Hell no. But my dick and my mind kept betraying me as the image of his chest screamed in my head.
At this point, I needed anyone other than him. Scanning the crowd, I found the first lucky soul. Tall, solidly built, but vanilla in innocence.
Swiping a hand over my face, I clasped the cross before stepping onto the dance floor. If he wanted me, I needed action. If not, someone else with bigger balls would step in.
So I did what I always did when I wanted attention—danced.
And fuck did I do that, beads of sweat dripping down my temples as I unbuttoned my shirt completely, letting anyone’s hands roam over my chest on the dance floor. It eventually ended up in my back pocket, the heat of the club making it impossible to want to keep it on.
Strong hands gripped my waist, twisting me around to allow me to grind on the man who’d initiated. He licked the shell of my ear, and I was so far gone I didn’t care what he looked like. I needed dick, and if he’d provide, perfect.
At the end of the song, I turned around, allowing my hands to roam over his chest. Blonde hair, green eyes—a smug smile highlighting his clean-shaven face.
His nose was slanted, like one of those Greek statues.
By anyone else’s standards, he’d be gorgeous, but I liked my men rugged, a bit deranged, yet willing to submit.
He was the complete opposite, but with at least four drinks in my system, I didn’t fucking care.
Wrapping my arms around his neck, I pulled him in for my final test as my lips pressed against his. It was wet, sloppy, and highly influenced by the amount of alcohol he’d drunk, but it was okay. No spark, but I was here for casual. I didn’t do long-term, and he’d suffice.
My fingers tangled in his hair as my leg hooked around his, grinding against him as his tongue fought for dominance. He wouldn’t find it with me.
His hands settled on the patchwork of flowers covering my ass, a hiss leaving me at the contact. Three weeks of hell wasn’t worth just a kiss. I pulled away slightly, panting. “Want to get out of here?” It was breathless, but if Simon and Liam were taking bets, I’d definitely won.
“No, he doesn’t.” The rugged, gravelly voice interrupted before the blonde could respond, belonging to none other than the man I’d desperately tried to escape.
I waited for my breathing to even before flicking my gaze to the asshole. Wrapping my hand around the guy I was leaving with, I glowered.
“Yes, he does. We were just leaving,” I spat, tugging him away.
What the fuck was he doing?
Thorne’s fingers slipped through my belt loop, ripping me back toward him. “No. You’re. Not.”
“I don’t need this shit,” the blonde muttered before ripping his arm from my grip.
My jaw slackened as I tugged, but Thorne’s finger was still wrapped around my belt loop. “Not enough to fuck with me at base that you have to do it here, too? What? Daddy got mad and sent you after me as a chaperone?”
A sneer spread across his lips, his eyes darkening as an oak brown replaced the usual golden hue of his irises. “I don’t follow your dad’s orders on the weekends. So, despite your attempt to piss me off, you’re spewing false accusations.”
“Oh, so you’re doing it for fun then?” I snapped, brushing beads of sweat from my forehead.
The lights were relentless, heat trapped on the dance floor as bodies hovered around us.
My finger pressed against his chest, digging into the bruise I remembered seeing when he’d lifted his shirt.
“I thought you said I could have a pleasant night.”
“I did,” Thorne replied, his hand curling around mine and ripping it away from him. “Though I didn’t specify what that meant. You won’t be leaving here with anyone. Indulge however else you wish.”
My brows furrowed, my cross necklace swinging as I yanked away from his grip. “I can do whatever I want. I can fuck whoever. I can kiss whoever, and I sure as hell can leave with whatever goddamn person I want to.”
My shirt plopped to the floor, and I reached over to grab it, my balance almost faltering. Snatching it from being trampled, I stuffed it back into my pocket. And before I knew it, his arm snaked around my waist, lifting me from the ground with sickening ease.
“What… What the hell?” I wiggled, but liquor flowed through my veins instead of blood, my head pumping with the vile shit.
“You want to argue with me? Fine. But we aren’t doing this out here.”
Snaking through the crowd, he hauled me off as if I were a suitcase filled with feathers.
Every attempt to free myself proved useless, and before I knew it, we were in one of the single-person bathrooms lining the far wall of the club.
Thorne locked the door shut behind us, dropping me to the ground.
I scrambled to my feet and chucked my shirt at him. “Let me out. Fuck, this night’s ruined already! I’ll just walk back to base.”
“No.” He folded his arms over his chest, leaning back against the door that sealed my fate.
“So you’re just going to kidnap me?” I yelled, lifting my palm to wave it in the air. “I’ll add that to the list of fucked up things you’ve done to me.” An anxious laugh bubbled from me.
His lengthy stride closed the gap, his hand finding my throat as he shoved my back into the wall. He glowered at me, leaning forward until his scent greeted me—forest pine with a hint of something darker.
“You’re fucking maddening,” he growled, his nose inches from mine.
“Maddening? At least I’m not the one with a fucking hard on. What? Torture turns you on? Can’t wait to break me again?” I spat, my hands spreading against the wall to give me leverage.