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Nyx was an intricate work of art. She wasn’t someone you couldn’t not, not notice. When you did? It would result in staring at her for an endless amount of time.
Like Zane, I hadn’t been aware I was doing this until he took it upon himself to point it out.
Also like Zane, I couldn’t seem to stop. I wasn’t all that worried when she caught me doing it. I made sure my face never gave anything away.
I hadn’t thought much of her at first. In the early days, she was merely some chick Butcher bragged about. Then, she was simply Adelaide’s cousin, someone I found intriguing.
And then we fucked—twice.
I’d only intended for it to be once. It was the most vanilla thing I’d done in months, but in a good way.
The next morning, before the sun fully rose, she was there, I was hard, and I needed more. She gave herself to me with shyly parted thighs and uncertainty caused by insecurities that hadn’t been there the first time.
I knew why.
Her piece of shit ex had gotten to her. Some part of her beautiful brain found flaws and faults where there were none. She was fucking flawless from the inside out.
Over the last three weeks, after constantly being around one another, we’d fallen into an oddly comforting companionship. It was never discussed or acknowledged, and neither was that night.
We were what we were.
We clicked like two matching pieces of a puzzle…although one had been set on fire, trampled, and left in the mud. While not a pretty picture, everything else was perfect.
She always listened when I had something to say, like she understood half the shit moving from my brain to my mouth.
Feeling a hand on my arm, I turned my head and stared at the blonde who was determined to hold my attention.
“Is that your girlfriend?” Her silver eyes darted in Nyx’s direction, her upper lip slightly curling in disdain.
I wanted to toss her skinny ass across the room for that. “If she is?”
She blinked up at me, slightly taken aback by my bluntness. Trying to save face, she smiled and flipped her hair over her shoulder before stepping closer, damn near resting her tits on my forearm.
“Then it would be wrong to invite you down to
my room,” she replied just loud enough to be heard over an old jukebox song.
We both knew she didn’t actually give a shit. She would ride my dick no matter my relationship status.
She’d been trying too hard since I walked in the door, pretending she’d drank too much when we both had the same weak ass drink in our cups.
I knew what it was she wanted before she even spoke. Needy desperation clung to her like a second skin. I took in her face, severely unimpressed. She wasn’t ugly, wasn’t cute. If anything, she was plainly average and resembled someone else I used to know. Regardless, I didn’t want to fuck her.
I hadn’t gotten any ass in almost a month, and I was surprised the skin on my palm wasn’t peeling yet from how often I was jerking my dick, but I still wasn’t going to stick it in this random chick.
That was an extreme way to see if it would burn off.
But, seeing as how what I desired was unobtainable—for now—I was going to indulge a different type of release. I may not have wanted this bitch, but I had a thing for stuck up blondes.
It mainly consisted of sinking my horned Italian stiletto into their flesh.
“She’s just a friend,” I replied as nonchalantly as I could, pretending those four words didn’t aggravate the hell out of me. “So why don’t you lead the way?” I gave her a flirtatious smile.
She grabbed my hand and nodded, looking back at the redhead with an excited grin. “Give me an hour or two.”
The woman opened her mouth, no doubt to object being left behind while her friend got fucked every which way to Sunday.
We were gone before she could get out more than an outraged scoff.
