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I nod and release the woman’s arms. “My phone. Left pocket.”
“It’s empty,” she says after searching for herself.
What? It was in there.
Lex.
My right pocket gets checked, too.
The woman in front of me wrinkles her nose.
“Don’t you have a wallet?”
They were looking for my phone, but she’s asking about my wallet.
“Left it at home,” I lie.
“You came to a club without any cash on you?”
Now it’s about the cash in the wallet.
Lex knew what these women were about.
I shrug my shoulders. “I’m on a budget.”
With a lip curl, she shoves me down onto a chair I didn’t notice set up behind me.
I curse as I work not to fall backward.
“That watch don’t look cheap.”
“No, but it’s staying with me.”
She doesn’t return my smug-ass smile, only turns to hype up the club. I take the time to look out at the hundreds of faces focused on the stage. All my new coworkers are front and center, Kaisin right in the middle of the chaos, his gaze locked solely on the MC, Warden Missy. I don’t see Lex, but wherever she is, I know she’s watching.
She better be fucking watching. This was her doing.
The heat from the spotlight makes me warm and itchy as I test the restraints on my wrists. It’s my first time being handcuffed and they must be legit because they’re not fucking budging.
Two more women—a brunette and a redhead—join the blonde who dumpster-dove my pockets, all three dressed in white tanks and low-sitting black-and-white-striped drawstring pants, then the three start circling me.
Warden Missy’s voice drags my attention away.
“…on the groom’s last night of freedom.”
All eyes swing my way before the song “Play” by David Banner fills the speakers, making everybody go fucking crazy. Jesus, these lyrics.
I can’t even help the grin that sneaks out, but I do stare ahead of me so I can’t search for Lex again.
“Let’s see what kind of husband he’ll make.”
I don’t know what to make of that statement, and I don’t have time to try because hands, lots of hands, begin touching me in all different places—my neck, my shoulders, my thighs—robbing me of my ability to think straight. Someone grabs a handful of my hair and jerks my head back, exposing my throat, while someone else straddles my lap, my fists caught between our stomachs as she dances on my thighs. The weight disappears before reappearing a second later, the body now facing the opposite direction, so my knuckles brush her spine. Leaning back, she grinds on top of my dick, but all I can see is the brunette still holding my hair. My Adam’s apple bobs with a violent swallow while my cock begs, motherfuckingbegs, to be released. Fuck.
My hair’s freed the same time the one on my lap gets up, then I’m yanked to standing by the handcuffs. The redhead drapes my arms around her shoulders and backs her ass up, dancing against my dick.
My mind wanders out to the side of us again, but I don’t actually give in. What does Lex think of this little show? Exactly how much did she orchestrate? The song, too? It’s way too fucking close to reality to pass as coincidence.
Spinning us around so we’re facing the chair, the redhead bends at the waist, gripping the chair back.
