Page 67

I sigh loudly and Alex snatches the phone from me. “Hey!” I protest.

A loud chuckle escapes him as he scrolls through my embarrassingly one-sided texts.

“Alec—”

“Here, let me help you.” He shrugs and starts typing, his fingers flying across the screen. A soft whoosh sounds a second later before he hands the phone back to me.

I glare at him before looking down at what he wrote, and my mouth falls open in shock.

“This is so fucking childish.” I grunt in frustration and glance at the screen again. “And she blocked me.”

ME: I guess I'll take my services to another girl, by the way, much more willing than you, at tonight's ball.

Read. User not found.

She fucking blocked me.

I look up only to find her walking away all the while flipping me off. Alec and Roman snicker so loud, we become the centre of attention.

“Fucking kids.” I tell them, slapping the backside of Alec’s head and duck before he could connect his fist with my jaw.

“Fuck dollface is adorable, isn’t she?” Roman adds and my one glare makes him raise his hands in the air in mock surrender.

“She’s not your dollface, Roman.”

SIXTEEN

Elara

You couldn't pay me to be here.

A text though? Yeah, that'll do.

I’m not the sharpest tool in the shred, considering my impulsive decision, and the insurmountable rage I felt upon reading that text.

After I blocked him.

I promised myself I wouldn’t be witnessing his man- whoring ways with my own eyes. My brain conjured endless images of faceless women touching Sergei the way I haven’t yet.

Not that I want to. Obviously.

Because that would be weird.

You know what’s weird? My brain asks, and, for reasons I’ll never understand, I decide to humour the useless organ.

Weird is riding his dick and moaning like the little whore you are.

Again, why did I humour it?

The way my body rocked and rhymed on his thighs, hummed to life and danced on his tunes was a sign that anything that fun can do nothing but cause mayhem.

Not to be dramatic, but I murdered my temperance by moaning wantonly on his lap, bouncing and grinding, willingly taking part in the filthy act.

The feel of his hands, his voice, his blazing gaze, I loved it, and I was ashamed for loving it.

And one more time I promised myself to stay away from the human equivalent of sex on a stick.

Said promise lasts less than twenty-four hours as my phone buzzes with a text from an unknown number.