33
SYLAS
“Promise me you’re not going to hit him,” Marc says.
I feel his eyes watching me closely, carefully, on alert as if he’s worried any minute now I’m going to lunge at the man Anna is with.
It feels like someone took a stake to my heart and is repeatedly stabbing me. Having to watch them together is killing me. He has his hands on her, he’s making her laugh, he’s buying her drinks, he’s doing all the things that I should be doing.
I want nothing more than to punch him, but I won’t. There are eyes on me everywhere, and anything I do will be heavily scrutinized. Not only would this reflect poorly on Anna, but also my team, and my agent.
I’m also not an idiot. I’m not going to let my emotions get the best of me. I know better.
“I’m not going to hit him.” I grind my molars, taking a swig of my beer.
I’m sitting in the VIP section, so I have a good view of them. The best view, actually, and it’s testing my patience. I won’t hit him, but I’m thinking about it every two seconds.
I wasn’t supposed to be here, but Marc and the guys came, and as soon as he saw Anna, he texted me.
“You sure? Because you’re looking at him like you could kill him,” he says dubiously, eyeing me up and down. “People are watching.”
“That’s why I’m here and she’s there,” I answer irritably, clutching the bottle in my hand hard. I briefly look away, needing a few seconds to corral every ounce of my patience. “But I’ll need you to punch me if she goes home with him. I don’t care what you do but knock my ass out.”
It’s either that or I drink into oblivion. It was one thing to imagine Anna moving on, but having to witness it is another kind of pain.
“So is this where I punch you?” Marc chuckles awkwardly, scratching the nape of his neck.
My gaze snaps in their direction. I don’t think I’m breathing as I watch him escort her out. A kaleidoscope of colors shines on her beautiful, flushed face. She’s laughing and smiling wide, and he’s mirroring her elation.
“Fuck, I can’t do this. I need to get out of here.” I slam the bottle on the table. I think it falls, spilling everywhere, but I can’t bother to pick it up or look at Marc who follows behind me.
“Don’t do anything stupid. Why don’t you come back to mine and—”
I can’t breathe. Every inhale feels like a saw to my lungs. “I’m going home.”
“Sy—”
“Marcello, not right now,” I bite out. “I’m not an idiot. Don’t worry about me.”
I heading out, slow enough to give them enough time to leave. When I arrive home, I don’t leave my car. I can’t stop playing the images of Anna and the guy together, remembering how he had his hands on her, how happy she looked when they left.
Dropping my head on the steering wheel, I close my eyes. I keep wondering how I can make things better, how I can earn her trust and forgiveness.
Sighing, I get out and head up, but once the elevator doors open, I freeze. Anna’s on the other side. I think she was pacing, but she must have frozen as she was taking a step.
I’m snapped out of my stupor when the door begins to slide shut. I swiftly exit but stop short.
“You…” she starts, but her voice wavers.
She breathes in and exhales harshly. “You left me after I begged you not to.” Her nostrils flare, the heat in her eyes so intense it makes my blood burn.
“I told myself I’d move on, and just when I thought I was, you showed up.
I told myself I wouldn’t care, that I would be fine, that I could move on because that’s what I deserve, but…
” She releases a shaky breath as she approaches me.
“You show up and say things and you look at me. I want to move on, but for whatever godforsaken reason, I fucking can’t.
And now I’m here and I look at you and all I want is for you to kiss me. ”
My heart is hammering, electricity traveling all over my body, causing it to burn and buzz. “Anna.” I raise my hand, cupping her neck. “How much have you had to drink?”
“I’m not drunk if that’s what you’re asking. Or did you forget what I’m like when I am?” She cocks a brow.
“I remember everything about you.” I tip her head back. “What happened to your…date?”
“I don’t know, and I don’t care.” Her gaze flicks to my mouth.
“I don’t want you to regret this.” I don’t care if she uses me or does with me as she pleases, but I don’t want her to hate herself for being with me. “If you want me to back off, I will. I will do whatever you want. I just don’t want you to regret being with me.”
“I don’t know what I’m doing, but I know I want you. I’m here because I can’t stop thinking about you. Sylas, I missed you and—”
I don’t think any more as I crash my lips to hers. I kiss her hard and push her against the wall. She gasps but she’s only stunned for a moment before she’s winding her arms around my shoulders and meeting my frantic kiss.
I’m slipping my palms down to cup her ass and lifting her up.
She circles her legs around my waist. Threading her fingers through my hair, her nails scratch my scalp, and she pulls on the locks.
I hiss, biting her lip before I suck her tongue into my mouth, tasting everything she’s had to drink tonight.
When she moans, I hold her up with one hand and raise her dress up. We break apart, panting harshly, and our gazes drop to her spread thighs. She’s wearing a black lace thong, but I can tell she’s wet. The material clings to her pussy, glistening with her arousal.
“I hate that you wore this for him,” I grit, jealous and irrationally frustrated. “I hate that you went out with him.”
She stares at me with hooded eyes, lips turned out in a small pout. “Yet you were all I was thinking about. Don’t be jealous.”
“I am,” I grunt. Dragging my nose over her jaw, I breathe her in then lick a stripe down the curve of her neck.
I latch on to the spot I know drives her wild, and she bucks her hips.
Her pulse thrashes hard against my tongue where I suck and bite her skin, but it doesn’t feel like enough.
I need more, and I know she does too. “I’m so fucking angry. ”
Anna whimpers. “Show me how angry you are.”
I draw back, lifting a brow. “Don’t say things you don’t mean.”
“I don’t want you to,” she replies as the strap to her dress slips down her shoulder.
“I won’t hold back. I won’t be soft. I won’t go slow,” I tell her as I head to my bedroom.
“You promise?”
I chuckle, turning the light on and closing the door behind me. “Promise you won’t hate me in the morning.”
“I won’t.” She smirks.
I set her on my bed and have to pull back just to look at her. The dress is still bunched over her hips and her hands are braced behind her. I watch her chest rise and fall fast, a bright red mark coloring her neck.
“So is it safe to say you still like to be treated like a whore?” I grab her thighs and spread them farther apart.
She whimpers, fisting my duvet. Her nipples were already pebbled, but I swear they’re harder than I’ve ever seen them.
The sight of her on my bed—glassy, dilated eyes and glowing skin—propels me.
“Did you miss being used? Did you miss me calling you a slut as I made you choke on my cock? Me coming all over your body, fucking your asshole? Tell me what you missed, Anna.”
Her knuckles look ready to pop from her hold on the duvet. “Everything.”
“Perfect.” I yank the wet lace from her pussy and slap her hard. She drops back on the bed, squeezing her eyes shut, and releases a loud groan that fizzles into low moans. I place my palm over her mouth. “Shhhh, don’t be loud. You’re going to wake them up.”
I feel her clench her jaw beneath my palm, but it releases when I slap it again. I hold my hand firmly against her mouth, muffling the noise, and repeat the motion until her lips are bright pink and one palm is wet from her saliva and the other from her arousal.
“You’re still so responsive to this.” I spread her drenched lips and eye her swollen clit. She throbs and squirms. “You’re so easy, Anna. I bet you’re close to coming, huh?”
She nods weakly, casting her gaze to her spread thighs, but her eyes dart back up when I grab the neck of her dress and roughly tug it down. I’m certain I hear a tear, but I don’t check nor do I care.
Her breasts spill out and bounce, and the piercings glint under the light. I smack one hard and do the same to the other. Pink colors her light brown skin, goose bumps breaking across it, and she mewls, her back arching.
“Don’t be loud or I’ll gag you.” I let go of her mouth and cup her breast, pinching her nipple hard. She muffles the noise, attempting to squeeze together her thick thighs, but I’m still wedged between them. “If you’re desperate enough, easy enough, wet enough, then maybe I’ll let you come.”
I lift my arm over my head grab the neck of my shirt, removing it and tossing it somewhere on the floor. Wild, hungry eyes peruse my chest, arms, and torso.
“Look at you so eager to touch me. Be good and maybe I’ll let you.” I lean down and spit on her breast and then the other. “Rub,” I order her.
Her breath hitches, and her wide stare lands on the saliva sitting on her breasts. But they go wider, darker when I spit on her pussy twice.
“Don’t act like you don’t like that.” I brace one hand next to her head. The other I slip between her thighs, spreading my spit all over her. She whimpers, bucks her hips, and raises both hands to her chest, doing just as I instructed. “Play with them the way you used to when you’d ride my face.”
She pulls, pinches, and twists her nipples between her fingers. I watch, mesmerized as she does, dragging my fingers through her drenched pussy up to her clit. It pulses faster as I glide my finger around it. She mewls, rocking her hips, in search of friction.
“I missed this.” I slip my finger down and tease her entrance. I sink the digit just an inch, and instantaneously feel her clench around it, like it’s sucking it in. “Goddamn, your pussy is desperate to be filled. You need it now, don’t you?”
“Please,” she begs, pushing up on her elbows. Her gaze drifts to my erection. “I need you in me.”