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I nod and swallow around the knot that’s forming in my throat. I want to tell him he’s being a stupid prick, but there isn’t any point in arguing with him. He’s hurt, and this is his way of hiding it, of dealing with the pain.
Starting the car up, I drive in the direction of Night Shift, wondering if I’ll ever truly be able to forget about Stella.
Arriving at Night Shift, we walk in as we always do, straight to the bar for a beer. We barely sit down before the girls flock to us, knowing that we always leave a wad of cash behind for them. They’re all pretty in an extremely fake way with their fake lashes, tits, and painted on faces, and normally I wouldn’t be bothered by that, but tonight I need something else.
Easton reads my mind because he opens his mouth to speak before I can, “You ladies are nice and all, but we’re looking for something a little different tonight.”
Bridget, a girl I know by name because I request her every time I come in, starts to pout. She sucks cock like a vacuum cleaner, but that’s not what I want today. I mean, I want my cock sucked but not by her.
“Oh, come on, Cam.” Bridget runs her red painted nails across my chest.
“He’ll be coming, but not by you,” Easton chuckles.
“Are you sure? Remember that thing I do with my tongue?” She leans in and presses her body into mine, making it hard for me to ignore her presence. I can practically see her nipples through the skimpy getup she has on, and I’m tempted to lean down and suck one into my mouth. Then something off in the distance catches my eye. Blonde hair, the color of sunshine, acts as a beacon drawing my attention away from Bridget.
My heart starts to thud inside my chest like it’s trying to escape it. It can’t be? Can it? Sweat beads my brow, and I shove Bridget back and take a step forward as if that’s going to help me get a better look. The girl I’m staring at has her back to me, and I wait with bated breath for her to turn around.
The muscles in my stomach tighten, and like a silent prayer, God answers me, and the nameless girl turns around, her soft gray eyes scan the room nervously, and I swear the air in my lungs stills. Holy fucking shit.
“Easton,” I somehow get his name out. He looks over at me and away from the brunette that’s seconds away from crawling into his lap.
“What? I’m trying to get my dick wet,” he growls in frustration, and all I do is lift my hand, pointing in Stella’s direction. He turns, and within seconds, his face softens. Then he looks, well… he looks like how I feel.
Like I’ve just seen a fucking ghost.
“She’s alive?” He speaks so low I almost don’t hear him.
“Yes, it’s… it’s her.” I can tell, not just because of her hair or her eyes, but the perfectly sculpted shape of her body, plus she’s wearing more clothing than even the bartender. She screams innocence in a place like this. Half of the guys in here are staring at her, inviting her to come closer with their eyes.
Any other girl in her would already be on someone’s lap, but Stella just stands there, looking thoroughly out of place. Like a damn lamb being led to the slaughterhouse.
The uneasiness that rested heavily on my shoulders disappears in an instant. She’s alive, she’s fucking alive, and she’s… fuck, she’s working at Night Shift.
Easton’s gaze turns to me. “We have to get her. She’s ours.” He speaks the words as if he didn’t just say we should try and forget her.
“I thought you were trying to forget her,” I tease, wanting to see him lose it a little. Knowing that he cares for Stella as I do, only intensifies my feelings for her more.
“Shut the fuck up,” he elbows me hard in the side, “it’s time to make it known that she belongs to us. I’m tired of other people looking and touching her. It’s time for us to bring her home.”
“Bring her home?” I lift a questioning brow.
Easton gives me a dark smile, “Yes, it’s time.”
“Is that the same guy talking from an hour ago? Didn’t you say she was nothing to us? I remember something along the line of we won’t even remember her tomorrow?”
“Shut up, and don’t look at me like that. I fucking know you think the same.”
Indeed, I fucking do.
“All right then, let’s make her ours.”
11
Stella
My skin is crawling, and my stomach is churning. I can feel everyone’s eyes on me, their stares feel like hot irons burning my skin. I’ve never in my life felt so exposed, so dirty. I feel like I’m on a platter, displayed all pretty while being prepared to be eaten.
