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“I never gave myself the chance.”
“Why not?”
“I grew up with two parents who resented each other for things out of their control. The queen’s duty made things like loyalty an impossibility. So I eliminated it early on.”
“By not falling in love?”
He leans over me on the mattress. “Emotional attachments only bring misery.” Swallowing hard, he glances down my naked form. “Like you right now, trying so valiantly to fight Vance’s drug, all in the name of love and loyalty.”
“It’s who I am.”
“I figured as much.” With a sigh, he backs away. “Such a goddamn shame, my queen, because I was going to make you come until you couldn’t handle it anymore.”
As my nipples pebble in the chill of the room, I whimper. “The doctor’s drug is only effective on my body. It has no affect on my heart.”
“A product defect I’m sure he’ll work on.” His mouth twitches. “No one ever accused the Brotherhood of giving up when it comes to the conquering of queens.” He tucks me in bed before bringing me a glass of water and two aspirin.
“Thank you,” I say, warming up to Ford’s sweet and thoughtful side, despite the games he likes to play.
“Feel better. Maybe tomorrow will bring a little sunshine with it.” He kisses my forehead and turns off the lamp.
After he leaves, I think about what he said, allowing myself to hope that things will look better in the light of day. But it isn’t long before the first hint of rain splashes on my bedroom window, an omen for the aftermath of this disastrous night.
7
Naked bodies are sprawled everywhere. And when I mean everywhere…I mean everywhere. As I stand in the middle of Ford’s great room with my mouth agape, rain pelts the windows, obliterating any chance for a ray of sunshine. The tap-tap-tap does little to drown out the snores of too many sleeping bodies.
The place is trashed. Discarded articles of clothing clutter the floor, and half empty crystal tumblers, ice cubes long ago melted in various shades of amber liquid, take up every tabletop in the room. Sweat, smoke, and overly sweet perfume floats in the air. Guests are wrapped around each other on the couches, some in groups, their limbs tangling in intricate familiarity. Others are passed out cold on the floor.
I gawk at the lewd scene for a few moments before spotting Ford on the center couch with a redhead sprawled on top of his bare chest. A man covered in tattoos has his head in Ford’s lap, soft snores coming from his drooling mouth.
I can’t believe I slept through this last night…whatever this was. An orgy? An afterparty sex club? Is there even a term for what I’m witnessing? But maybe this scene is nothing new to Ford Stryker—just another night of fun he ticks off on the calendar.
As if sensing someone from the land of the living, the redhead stirs, stretching her muscles as if she slept in that position on top of him all night. She turns her face my way, skin puffy under the eyes, hair matted to her forehead.
A suggestive smile crosses her plump, well-used lips. “You want to join, sweetie?”
Her words stun me into a breathless stutter. “N-no.”
Keeping her jade eyes on me, she moves down Ford’s abs and pushes tattoo guy out of the way, uncaring when he slumps to the floor. The guy groans, shifting onto his side and falling back to sleep almost instantly.
The woman arches a brow. “Are you sure? I’ll take care of Ford’s cock so you can get off on his face. He enjoys eating pussy first thing.”
I gulp, croaking out an, “I’m sure” as she fits her lips around his morning erection. I should avert my eyes, find an excuse to leave—any excuse—but I’m frozen to the spot, watching in morbid fascination.
A throaty moan escapes him as he awakes, both hands drifting to her auburn locks. Taking hold of her head, he settles his sleepy gaze on me, and that’s when I stumble back, about to flee to the safety of my quarters.
“Please don’t go.” Leveling me with a smoldering stare, he pushes deeper into her mouth. “I’d love for you to watch.”
“Last night was mortifying enough.” I turn to take my leave, one hand gripping my pounding head, when a sound of commotion has me peeking over my shoulder.
Ford is on his feet, cock still standing at attention, and the redhead glares from her spot on the couch, her body in a heap as if he just dumped her there like an afterthought. He gives a loud, decisive clap that echoes through the space.
“Everyone! Party’s over.”
The man must be a magician, because his guests start to stir, one by one. As people search for their belongings, the redhead pouts.
“Ford,” she draws out in a long whine. “We were just getting to the fun stuff.”
