Tristan was all over Blue, both of them hands on and heated. I was jealous. Just like always, I was jealous. I wanted to feel hands on me. I wanted to be touched. Wanted.
I wanted to feel alive.
Stephen lowered his head and kissed my neck. Wet, warm lips that tickled. His hand slipped down my arm, and his fingers pushed their way inside my dress, squeezing. Squeezing my breasts hard enough to make me wince.
Lucian.
I found my back arching, seeking more. I wanted rougher. I wanted to hurt.
Why wouldn’t Lucian hurt me? I knew he wanted to. I could see the thinly veiled violence in his eyes. And I’d heard the rumors about his sexual predelictions. The whips and chains. BDSM shit. Except he hadn’t hurt me. He’s only made me come.
Was it because of my scars? Of course it was.
He saw me as a broken girl… and he was right about that.
The cab pulled up outside some house in the middle of a backwater city hovel, and there were lights on inside. Lights and open doors and bass thumping loud.
“House party, let’s rock!” Blue shouted, and both him and Tristan bailed out of the cab.
“Let’s go,” Stephen whispered, and tugged me out by my hand, offering me another swig of vodka as we went. “Can’t wait to show you off at this party, Lainey,” he told me. “You’re one hot little piece, you know that?”
Yeah, I did know that. It was my only skill in life. It had always been my only skill in life.
Even in my hazy state I felt the shiver of shame inside me, of wanting something dirty and cheap and forbidden, but there was more tension building along with the shame. That first tingle of knowing you don’t want something, even when your body is going along for the ride.
My body wanted Lucian Morelli. My heart wanted him, too.
Even though we were destined never to be together. We were star-crossed lovers, but I had no interested in a double suicide situation. That’s why I was here, at this party, pretending I could move on, pretending I could live without Lucian.
Pretending I could lose my virginity to someone that isn’t him.
The hallways were crowded with partying punks. People were getting it on everywhere I looked, that or dancing around to the beat or playing drinking games with ping pong balls and plastic cups. Stephen led me along after Tristan and Blue, right through a cluttered kitchen at the back of the building, where someone handed me a fresh beer.
I didn’t want it, but my body did. I downed it in one and took hold of another.
“Check out this song, Lainey,” Stephen ordered me, his voice in my ear. “This is me on vocals. Slay the rich, feed the poor, it’s called.”
I smiled to myself at that. It was a nice idea, but the rich controlled the world.
Stephen hadn’t noticed the diamonds in the ears he was talking to. He hadn’t noticed the designer dress I’d torn slashes into or the one-off stilettos on my feet. He hadn’t noticed the value of the clutch next to me on the sideboard, or the cosmetic sheen of my teeth, or the way I was as suited to punk rock as a feather was suited to a volcano.
My ear prickled when he spoke next, another growl right into my mind. “Come with me. I want that pussy. I wanna get my hands on you. And my cock inside you.”
I didn’t speak. I couldn’t find an answer.
“You want that, don’t you?” he said. “You want a piece of Stephen Fucking Cannon?”
I should tell the truth. I should tell him I didn’t want a piece of Stephen Fucking Cannon, that I hadn’t even known his last name until he said it.
No, I wanted a piece of Lucian Morelli.
That’s all I wanted.
That’s all I needed.
I turned to find Tristan, but he was in the darkest corner of the room, his hands on Blue. I felt Stephen’s fingers squeezing mine, and he pulled me with him.
“I’m staying at Blue’s drummer’s place a few blocks down. We’ll walk.”
I reached back for something, but my mind was dazed as he tugged me. What was I reaching for? He answered me.
“Another beer for the road,” he said and shoved a bottle in my hand. “Cheers,” he added and clinked his drink against mine.
“Cheers,” I said as he dragged me outside.
It was cold, and my stilettos were noisy on the sidewalk. He didn’t care. He kept on tugging me, kept on telling me about how amazing he was, and how damn amazing his songs were. He sang one to me as we crossed the street at the end of the block, and I remembered his voice from the club, looking up at him and seeing the darkness in his eyes all over again.
Lucian.
He stopped us next to a late-night store and ran inside to get some cigarettes. He lit one up as soon as we left, offering it over. “Want a smoke?”
I wanted a line of coke. I was done with the denial. I wanted a damn line of coke.
I reached under my arm for my clutch, but it wasn’t there. Crap, I lost my clutch. I stopped in my tracks and cast the cigarette to the ground. Where the fuck did I leave my clutch?
I patted myself down, even though there was no way it could be anywhere on me. I glanced back at the street behind us, but it was nowhere in sight on the sidewalk.
“I’ve lost my clutch,” I told Stephen, and he laughed.
“I’ve lost my cigarette, so I guess we’re even.”
I tried to pull backwards up the street, but he held me firm.
“My clutch…” I said, but he didn’t move.
“You don’t need your clutch, Lainey,” he told me. “You need my cock.”
I did need my clutch, and the cocaine that was inside it. Lucian Morelli took it, but I’d replaced it. I need it now. I need something to take away this strange sensation.
Stephen pulled me along again, holding me tight. “You need some good cock, Lainey. And that’s what I have. You know? The best fucking cock.”
His muscles were solid against my side, and his eyes were dark with want as he lit up a fresh cigarette. I waved away his offer of a drag.
Lucian.
I had no idea where we were headed, other than some drummer’s place in some street downtown. My footsteps obeyed the man at my side, my stilettos still loud underneath me. His hand moved to my ass and squeezed, and it made me flinch.
He laughed. “I hope you know my dick takes every hole I want.”
I didn’t laugh back, but my footsteps stumbled forward. I couldn’t seem to stop.
“Drink up,” he said and tipped my beer back against my mouth. It dribbled down my chin, even though I swallowed as fast as I could. “Almost there,” he told me.
The jangle of keys in his hand told me we were there. We climbed some metal stairs, which were dangerous for me with my heels. My heart raced, but I kept on moving.
He opened the door at the top, and the drummer’s apartment was a shithole, bottles and duvets strewn all over the floor. It stank of cigarette smoke, just like Stephen did.
“Now give me that pussy,” he said and slammed me into the nearest wall.
His mouth was hot on my neck. Frantic.
His body was hot against my chest. Wanting.
My legs spread, letting him grind into me. It didn’t feel like I was inside my body anymore. It was like I’d gone far away, the same as when the men touched me.
Lucian.
I pushed him off me, hard, and Stephen stared at me with shock on his face. “What the fuck? You looking for a johnny? Don’t worry, baby, I got one right here.”