“You can sleep in my room,” I tell her, my voice raspy with arousal. “I’ll use one of the other rooms or the sofa.” It takes every ounce of… self-control, effort, whatever you want to call it, for me to turn around instead of watching the show.
My dick throbs, pressing against the zipper of my jeans. I ignore it, knowing if I so much as change clothes, I’ll lose the ability to control my urges and attack her.
I go into my room and sit on my bed to remove my shoes, not worried about changing yet. Once they’re off and set beneath the frame, I leave.
Moonlight beams through the windows of my apartment, illuminating my path as I exit the bedroom and walk through the foyer and gallery toward my living room. I clench my teeth, restraining myself as I go to the bar next to the windows that overlook Central Park. Not bothering to look at labels, I grab the first bottle, uncap it, and turn it up, begging it to take the edge off this aching need to feel her warm pussy wrapped around me.
I glance at my watch. It’s now after five. While I’m accustomed to long nights and sometimes days without sleep, whatever happened last night and the events of today have taken their toll. I’m tired. And while today was shit, I already know tomorrow will be worse since I have to be at the lawyer’s office at ten.
Sleep and I aren’t friends, but I don’t think I can avoid it now, thanks to the pick-me-up now being in the gutter somewhere on 57th and the Johnnie Walker in my hand. The heady burn races down my throat, through my chest as I stare out the window. Fingers wrapped tightly around the bottleneck, I turn it up, taking another long swig, wondering how the night ended up like this and preparing for what awaits me in that lawyer’s office. The impending meeting makes my stomach lurch and skin crawl.
I really wish I hadn’t tossed my stash.
“Jagger,” I hear whispered behind me.
I glance over my shoulder and nearly swallow my tongue for no fucking reason at all other than the fact she’s standing there in my t-shirt sans joggers, damp hair falling around her face. My dick weeps at her pale flesh contrasted by the black fabric, illuminated by the dim lighting of the night sweeping through the glass. My teeth clench together as I hum my acknowledgment that she called me.
Her struggle is written across her face, furrowing her brows as her nostrils flare with frustration. “I…uh.” A huff, long and irritated, spills from her. “You can sleep in your bed, you know?”
My lips twitch right along with my cock. “Since it is my bed, I didn’t assume I needed permission to use it.”
She rolls her eyes with a huff, then folds her arms over her chest and crosses the room. The bottle of whiskey is ripped from my hand, and she turns it up. She blows out a breath after taking a long pull, eyeing the bottle. “Holy shit! Why does it taste like that?”
I chuckle, ignoring her question for one of my own. “Why aren’t you asleep?”
She shrugs, moving closer to the window. “Second wind?”
With her attention on the city, I allow myself a moment to take her in. My T-shirt covers more than heruniformat the club. It displays far less of her sculpted physique than her dance attire. Yet, it’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen on her, and easily the most dangerous.
Another bolt of whiskey heats my chest before I replace the cap and set the bottle back on the bar. My lungs expand with a deep inhale as I approach her. She watches me with each step, and I wait for her to move away, turn around…something, but she remains unmoving until my front hits her back.
Sweeping her damp strands over her shoulder, I bend and do something I fucking shouldn’t and brush my lips over her neck. She shivers, goosebumps blooming. Inhaling deeply, my teeth grind with a feral possessiveness that heats my skin and boils my blood at how she smells like me…like mine.
My cock jerks toward her, begging me to release it from its confines. Pleading with me to sheath myself in her warm body.
There’s no thought, no conscious decision when I spin her around, grip her legs, lifting her until they wrap my body, and I walk her back three steps, pressing her against the glass. Her hazel eyes dance with lust and need as I drop my lips to hers.
But the warmth I expect, her sweet taste I’ve become addicted to after only indulging twice, is off. The room tilts, the hair on my neck rises. Nausea fills my gut as time folds.
I try to pull away, but sharp nails bite into my scalp. Her legs tighten around my waist when I attempt to set her down. “Stop fighting me, Jagger. You know you want this.” A slick, wet tongue snakes its way over my skin as another set of hands reaches around me, grabbing my dick. “You know you want us. She paid good money to play with us.”
Denial spews like venom from my lips. My head shakes, refusing what she says. “I don’t. I never have.”
She pulls away, and I stare into eyes the color of ice framed by long, blond tresses. Her blood-painted nail taps lightly against my chest as she tuts. “I suppose I could let her have Casey, but then her husband will want to join the fun.”
“No!” My head falls back as bile crawls up my throat. “I-I’ll do it.” My lashes drop, so I don’t have to see her face.
Hands I don’t want. Mouths that twist my gut. They touch, grope…and I hate my body’s reaction to their touch. Hate how I throb harder as one rides my face and the other my dick.
I don’t want this. I hate every second of it. But my body chases a high that will shatter another piece of me.
Shame and guilt twine around me like poisonous vines as I feel the familiar fire race down my spine. My teeth clench, and my fingers dig deeper into flesh in a desperate attempt to stave off my body’s betrayal. Their voices echo through the air, shouting my name.
“Jagger.”
“Jagger.”
I’ve never hated a name more.
