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I turn back and find that she’s still topless, dripping all over the floor.
I hold my hand up. “Oh my God, Peyton, put your tits away! Nobody needs to see that shit.”
"Really?" she taunts. "Because I know for a fact, Kingston loves my tits. He’s told me so many, many times as he was fucking them. And at the very end, he'd slide his dick into my mouth, and I'd swallow every ounce of his cum. He said I was the best titty fuck he’d ever had.” She cups her breasts suggestively. “Isn’t that right, baby?”
Snickers and oohs ring out through the remaining bystanders.
“Fuck off, Peyton.” Kingston’s grip on my hand tightens. “Let’s go, Jazz. She’s not worth it.”
Peyton glares at both of us as Kingston repeats my words from earlier. “You’ll never keep him, Jasmine. Just remember that all this bullshit will be for nothing. Everything you’ll go through will be for nothing.”
Kingston marches toward the stairs, yanking me behind him. As I’m trying to decode her cryptic words, Peyton yells Kingston’s name, but he simply lifts his middle finger in the air. When we reach the top of the stairs, he bypasses my bedroom and pulls me into a guest room, locking the door behind us.
When I look at him questioningly, he says, “No camera.”
Right. Well, at least he had enough sense to remember that.
“Come on.” I incline my head toward the ensuite. “There’s a first aid kit under my bathroom cabinet. Let’s see if there’s one in there, too.”
Kingston nods, following me silently into the bathroom.
Jesus, how did everything go to shit so quickly? This seems to be a developing trend, and I really don’t like the possibilities of what could happen next.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
KINGSTON
I hiss when Jazz swipes a cotton ball over the torn skin on my knuckles.
She rolls her beautiful brown eyes. “Quit being such a baby.”
“It fucking stings,” I mutter.
"Really?" She lifts her sculpted eyebrows. "You can get punched in the face, no problem, but not handle a little antiseptic on your hand?"
My eyes narrow. “I had adrenaline working for me then.”
She throws the cotton ball in the trash and steps back to assess her work. “I’m glad to see most of that blood wasn’t yours. It’s not nearly as bad as it looked.”
I reach behind me, pulling my shirt off. I don’t miss the way Jazz’s eyes hone in on my upper body.
“I could really use a shower.” I gesture to the smeared blood on her skin from being pressed up against me. “You too.”
Jazz nods. "You're right." She grabs a bath towel from the shelf next to her. "You can take this one, and I'll go jump in mine real quick."
I hook my finger under the strap of her tiny dress. Christ, when I first saw her tonight, all I wanted to do was throw her over my shoulder and carry her to the nearest available surface. After I decked Bentley for putting his hands on her, that is.
“We could save water and take one together.”
"Haha, funny guy."
“I wasn’t joking.”
I have to suppress a groan when Jazz wets her lips. “Kingston—”
“What? It’s okay if Bentley touches you, but not me? Why is that?”
Her eyes fill with fire. “I didn’t ask Bentley to touch me."
