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“Yeah, maybe,” I tell him, downing my drink in one swallow before ordering two more. If I’m stuck doing this, I’m not doing it sober.
I’m drunk, so drunk that when Adam slides his arm around my waist and pulls me into his body, I don’t react fast enough. He lines his hips up with mine, moving us from side to side. I can feel his erection pressing into my back, and I try to pull away but the arm around me clamps down, keeping me in his hold.
“Just go with it,” he tells me, pressing his other hand on my thigh and stroking the skin there. “We’re having fun.”
Are we?
I try and fail to escape when the arm on my stomach loosens, but he lays his palm flat on my stomach, keeping my in place. The material of my dress bunches under his touch, pulling up on my thighs.
I’m way too drunk to register when he flattens himself against me, pressing his hardened cock into my back. Betty’s eyes widen, though, it’s not us she’s paying attention to.
Her gaze falls over my shoulder, the smile on her face slipping and becoming a slow grimace. I try to step out of Adam’s hold, to turn and see what she’s staring at, but it’s impossible. He’s holding me too tight.
It’s a moment later when he’s pulled away from me by Gage, who sends me a wide feral smile before dragging Adam away from the dancefloor and towards the exit. I spin on my heel, spotting Theodore leaning against a wall, his arms over his chest and that smug smirk on his face.
Well, shit.
Before I can do anything else, my feet move on their own, running from him.
The musky scent of booze and sweat fill the air as Gage and I make our way through the people gathered in the club. This is not our usual Friday night spot. I can’t think of anything worse than spending my night squashed into a crowd of drunken idiots, all vying to be the hottest around.
I’ve been a good boy this week, let Fallon slowly get used to us being together, and how does she repay me?
By running off into to arms of Adam fucking Nielson, the prick who has a bigger death wish than I ever would have thought possible.
What she needs to understand is I have eyes everywhere. She can run away and try to put space between us, but she’ll never get far. I thought I was clear enough with my intentions to claim her, to own her, but evidently not.
“You see them?” Gage asks, trailing behind me. He’s only here to ensure my hands stay clean in this room, but they won’t be clean by the end of the night when I’m done with Adam and then they’ll be even dirtier when I’m finished with Fallon.
I shake my head at him, my eyes travelling over the crowd of people bouncing around the dancefloor. They’re here somewhere. It’s a minute later when I see a flicker of her blonde hair.
“There,” I grit out through clenched teeth. Apparently Fallon is not only stubborn, but she’s fucking stupid too. That’s the only reason I can think as to why she’s grinding her arse all over the tool standing behind her. Clearly, she has no issues with signing somebody’s death certificate, because surely, she understands that’s the way it’ll end if she lets things go further.
Stalking over to them, I pause for a beat, waiting.
Betty spots us first, her eyes widening in panic when she notices the harsh set of my jaw and the way my fists clench when I get closer.
Crossing my arms over my chest, I lean against the wall. It’s no fun if I interrupt Fallon. Instead, I’ll wait for her to become aware of the situation.
Watching the way her body tenses, it’s a thing of beauty. She likes to pretend she’s unbothered by me, by us. That she can ignore this thing between us, go about her life as though I’m nothing more than an inconvenience.
But she can’t hide the way her body reacts at the mere mention of my name, or the way her eyes slide to the side to peek inconspicuously.
Adam doesn’t notice the change in her posture and continues to move his body in line with hers. I don’t need to interrupt, because Gage grabs him by the lapels and tugs him out of the club.
Fallon spins around, her face blanching when she spots me.
She moves as though to run from me, but I stalk forward, grabbing her hips and pulling her flush against me, mirroring the same position she was in just minutes earlier with Adam. I lean down, brushing my mouth over her ear.
“Did you enjoy dancing with him?” I ask, rolling our hips together. The friction isn’t nearly enough to tamper the rage I’m feeling, or the hard-on steadily growing in my pants when she presses against me in that tight little dress. “Was it exciting, to feel his dick pressing into your back while you danced all over him like a dirty little whore?”
A gasp escapes her when I press my erection against her. Tightening my grip on her, I move us in time with the music.
“Do you remember the rules, baby?” Pulling away from her, my mouth twitches at the whimper that falls out of her. I grab her wrist and drag her to the wall. Spinning, I press her against it, one hand holding her arms above her head, the other cupping her neck.
“Yes, or no?” I demand with a smirk on my face. Of course, she remembers the rules, I wasn’t subtle with my delivery of them. She just wants to ignore them, to disobey me, to be punished.
“Yes,” she breathes out, her voice laced with anger. She tries to pull her hands out of my wrist, but my grip on her neck tightens, stalling her movements. “What are you doing?”
