I shrug. “Don’t care.” The song changes, but I’m lost. I turn my head around to see Maya walking in with no shirt on and holding a plate of what looks like weed. She’s wearing no bra—her tits out—and has on tiny basketball shorts. A red bandana is tied around the front of her head, her long straight hair falling down to her butt.
She winks at me again and then blazes a joint, sucking on it. I watch as she lowers herself to Val, who is waiting. Maya blows a cloud of smoke into Val’s mouth, and then slowly licks her from her chin to the tip of her nose.
Jesus fuck!
I shake off my nerves and stand, gaining false confidence from Maya and Val and whoever else is in here now. I get it. This crew is fucked up. I have to learn how to swim, or I’m going to drown.
The cage slowly lifts, and Maya slips down behind me, her hand going to King. I squash the jealousy that roars in my chest as best I can, but when he touches the back of her thigh, the jealousy knocks the breath out of me. I feel as though I’m choking on air.
Maya turns over her shoulder, her lips touching my ear. “Go with it, Dove. Would you rather me or Val?”
She has a good point.
King grabs her by the hair and yanks her to her feet, just as Kyrin spins me around by my hips, his fingers digging into my bones.
King’s eyes are on mine, his makeup taunting me, and his smirk testing the restraint of my anger. I don’t know why. It’s not like we’re anywhere near being able to call dibs on each other. My jealousy is arbitrary. Unwarranted.
He yanks the zipper of his pants down and I watch as his palm grips the length of his cock. He pulls on it softly.
“Girl,” Maya whispers from behind me. “This isn’t my first rodeo, so I apologize now.” Then her attention is on his cock, and I have to stop my chest from exploding and killing everyone in this fucking room.
I flash a smile at King that says I take your dirty blowjob and raise you a fucking pounding. I grip onto Kyrin from behind me, my fingers latching around the back of his neck. I drop to my hands and knees, leaning over my shoulder and smirking at him. “Fuck me.”
Kyrin’s eyes flash with fire, just as Killian steps up beside him, his head tilting.
“Dawg, if you don’t, I will.” Kill whistles, shaking his head.
Kyrin’s eyes fly over me, and I don’t have to guess to know where he’s looking. I turn around and face him, yanking his pants down instead. Okay, so he won’t fuck me for whatever reason, but I’ll still play, and if he doesn’t participate, I’ll go to Killian or Keaton. I grab his dick, and before he can say anything, I wrap my lips around his tip and. Fucking. Suck.
Drawing him in deeper until I feel his pre-cum latch to the back of my throat, I twirl my tongue around him.
The crowd is quiet as I suck, every single person in that audience disappearing. Kyrin pulls out of my mouth and smirks, gripping my chin and yanking me up to standing. I know he almost came twice because his cock was pulsing in my mouth.
“You play dirty, Little Bird, but can you keep it up?” His eyebrow cocks before he disappears and grabs onto Mischa, yanking her onto his exposed dick. She moans, rolling her head and sliding herself down over him.
Oh my God. Is this even legal?
Maya leaves King, and I’m left gasping, the song switching to “Nightmare” by Halsey.
Everything fades as King stares at me through his makeup.
“Little Bird, do me a favor,” Killian whispers into my ear. My attention doesn’t move from King. “See if he’ll kiss you.” He hands me a shot glass filled with white liquid, and I take it, throwing it back.
I take one step, and King’s eyes narrow.
Another step closer, and I can almost feel him around me, suffocating me without contact.
Quickly, I throw my hand around the back of his neck and pull his face to mine. My lips graze over his. “Why am I the only one not naked?” I lick his lips softly.
Just when I think he’s not going to take the bait, he leans forward and bites down on my bottom lip. “Because you’re not for them.”
What the fuck does that mean?
I grind into him, reaching down. I grip onto his cock and tug on it. Either he can get hard really fucking fast or Maya didn’t finish him off.
He hisses, biting my earlobe between his teeth and yanking on it. His fingers dig into my thighs as he lifts me off the ground. My legs wrap around his waist. “Who am I for?” I can’t believe I said that out loud.
“Not for them, but most importantly.” He sucks on my neck as his fingers slip beneath my panties. He slips between my folds, and I tremble in his grasp, my pussy clenching around him like a vise. I don’t care what’s going on out there, even though I know what is. I just hope everyone is too busy watching someone else to catch King and me.
He circles me while his thumb presses against my clit. “Not for me either.” His finger continues bashing inside of me, his thumb on my clit. My stomach clenches as familiar waves crash over me, my release gushing over his hand.
“Remember that next time you want to try to make me jealous.” He shoves me away, bringing his fingers to his mouth and sucking me off.
Everything disappears into the background again, like it always does when he’s around me. I panic, my heart thundering in my chest. Have I failed? Made things worse? I can’t believe I fell into Killian’s trap. After what feels like hours, the curtains slowly close with the audience going crazy, and I quickly zap out of the tent, my heart speeding in my chest at whatever the hell that show was. I know why they call them Mayhem now, and they fit it to a damn T. Just as I’m running back to the RV, I slam into a hard chest, bumping me backward until I fall straight on my ass.
“Ouch,” I groan, massaging my temples. I think I would rather they kill me than put me through all of this. This is a special kind of torture. One I will never survive.
“Jesus, Aeron!” A girl’s voice breaks through my haze before hands are reaching underneath my arms. “Are you okay?”
I’m on my feet when my brain registers what—or rather who—is in front of me right now. Aeron Romanov Reed—as in the famous rapper and mafia prince, Manik. I almost want to yell his name because that’s pretty much how everyone else says it.
“Yes,” I mutter, looking at the girl who helped me up. She’s beautiful. I think I know who she is, though. I’d seen her on TV whenever Rich would have E! playing in the bar—which was never, but that’s saying how often she’s in the media.
“You were amazing up there,” she says, and then wipes her hand on her jeans, bringing it out to me. “I’m Beatrice, but you can call me Beat, and this is my husband Aeron.” First impression of her is that I like her instantly for the mere fact that she hasn’t introduced her husband as “this is my famous husband, Manik.” It’s an instant turn-on for a lady friendship if the other woman isn’t constantly stroking her own ego.
“Thanks.” I can’t help but stare at her. He’s handsome, but everyone already knows that. Beat is something else. Long raven black hair and olive skin, she’s everything every model wishes she was made from.
“Are you doing anything right now? My grumpy husband is on his way home because, well…” She grins at Manik, who rolls his eyes at her. “He’s grumpy, but I’d love to have a chat with you? Are you free?”