to suck in a breath before she coated me in the shit. I coughed and choked, waving my hand in front of my face, searching for air without sparkles to inhale. I quickly kicked off my Converse, opting to go barefoot tonight. “All right, you play my song. I’ll be up on stage getting this shit going,” I told her, quickly scooting out the door with Meyah quick on my heels.
I ducked and dived through the busy crowd, my skin already beginning to get sticky and hot because of the writhing bodies around me. The opening bass to my favorite song started playing a few moments later, just as I made it to the stairs on the left side of the stage.
Dancing was something I loved.
Music like a part of my soul.
It wasn’t often you’d find me without headphones in my ears. It eased my thoughts, helped me to keep out of my own head. I needed it because if I got stuck inside my own mind with my fucked-up thoughts—well, it took a lot to drag me out before I let them swallow me whole.
My hips swayed, the attention of the crowd turning toward me as I walked to the center. The roar that rose above the slow-building music was like a shot of adrenaline into my veins.
My body moved, allowing the rhythm to take over, my hips hitting every single beat. I looked over the crowd, a smile on my face, unable to ignore the fact that I actually enjoyed this. Maybe not the exhibitionist part of it, but the freedom, the excitement, the way it made my heart race, my skin tingle—the way it made me feel a little bit alive.
My eyes caught something at the edge of the crowd, the double doors that lead out to the back rooms opened suddenly, Shotgun and Shake walking out together, Shotgun carrying something in his hands.
My fingers curled around the poll on the stage as his eyes met mine for a second.
Then looked away.
But before I could take a breath, thinking Meyah and I had gotten away with it, his entire body paused, and he tossed whatever he was carrying to Shake. Shake, whose smirk was growing wider, his mouth moving though I couldn’t make out what he was saying.
Shotgun turned on his heel, his eyes meeting mine again as he stomped down the side of the dance floor.
My hips were still moving on their own, but with less vigor because I couldn’t help but watch him walk toward me, the promise of something in his eyes. Something that should have made me nervous, but that I was growing to fucking love.
He took the stairs of the stage two at a time, not even acknowledging the crowd below us as he came straight at me, pausing for a second only to dip his shoulder and press it into my stomach before lifting me off the floor.
“Shotgun!” I cried out, a mixture of horror and laughter as he tossed me over his shoulder, so I was hanging down his back. A loud resounding slap came down across my bare ass, the crowd below us gasping collectively before a deafening roar of approval filled the room.
Hoots and hollers serenaded us as Shotgun carried me down the opposite side of the stage, ignoring my protests until we reached the bottom of the stairs that lead to the VIP room. He dropped me back onto my feet, his hands holding my waist as I swayed, trying to find my balance again after being fucking upside down.
“Was that necessary?” I protested, though I was so fucking turned on at that point I was about ready to ask him to throw me back over his shoulder and carry me out the back.
“Who the hell told you it would be a good idea to get on stage?” Shake asked, leaning against the banister with a smirk.
I grinned. “Your old lady.”
The way his face changed had me let out a soft giggle, though it quickly trailed off when Shotgun reached up and tugged at my bottom lip with his thumb, dipping his mouth close to my ear. “You’re fucking lucky we have something else to do right now, and I don’t have time to show you what that little stunt just cost you.”
The lump of nerves in my throat made it hard to swallow. “What do we have to do?”
“You’ll see.”
He turned me, his hands at my hips, directing me up the stairs with Shake right beside