Badly Behaved - Meagan Brandy Page 0,34

is that slips closer, runs his free hand up my thigh, taking the hem of my dress with it... but I can’t.

I have no idea who touches me.

But I don’t tell them to stop.

My core clenches, a soft tortured sound fighting its way up my throat when a third hand comes around from behind, something cold written along it and burning against my heated skin. He, whoever he is, grips my neck just above my halter line, his lips coming to my ear, but only to allow me the sound of his heady breaths.

The person it belongs to comes up beside me, slipping half in front of me, his belt buckle biting into my hip as something just as solid strains against it.

The hand around my neck slips down, another joining and following the same path up and over the arc of my breast, curving beneath it and meeting in the middle, only to leave my body completely.

Two large palms find my lower back, sliding along the material there, and glide down to my ass.

The pads of his fingers dig in, squeezing once he has a handful, and a short cut groan follows.

My chin lowers as his forehead falls to my abdomen.

Hot, burning breath seeps through my dress and my hands fly forward, gripping on to his cheeks. Right as my fingertips reach the ends of his hair, my arms are yanked away.

They’re lifted high over my head, and my body shivers as the palms snake along the edge of my forearms and biceps.

Locking gazes with mine, the person at my feet holds me hostage as he slowly pushes to his, molding his body to mine, but leaving just enough room for a hand to slip between us.

Two fingers press over my clit, and my ass crowds the groin aligned behind it, a low groan filling the air.

“Yeah.” A low rasp melts against my skin. “She feels it.”

All at once, I’m released, instantly cold, but able to breathe.

I search the room for a hint of a turquoise glow but come up short.

My voice has evaded me, my lungs too busy trying not to shrivel up and die from lack of oxygen, so I simply stand there, my hands finding my hips as sudden exhaustion rolls through me.

Note to self, add in some serious cardio!

I don’t know what comes over me, but a low laugh suddenly creeps up my throat, right as the door’s thrown open.

My eyes snap toward the noise in the hall, toward the low light flowing into the room, my mouth falling open as three black hoodies shuffle out of it.

I stand there for several seconds, my body slowly passing back the reins to my mind and oh my god, what in the…

My palm finds my forehead, and I whip around, wringing my free hand out at my side.

Holy shit.

What the hell was that?

Better question!

What the hell is wrong with me?!

I spin, pacing the small space.

Shadows pass the open door, and my head snaps toward it.

Person after person passes in the hall, some headed left, others to the right. I shake my head.

I need to get out of this room.

I clear my throat, smoothing my hair just in case, and push it over my shoulder.

I walk out, and as I round the corner, I find the party hasn’t paused in search of one missing girl but is just as busy and full as when I last looked around it, if not more so.

Thank god.

The dance floor is still dark and full, the drink area just as buzzing and the couches the guys sat at, still partially occupied.

Everyone laughs and shoves while animatedly talking, and I take a deep breath, moving straight for the bar.

On my way, I pass a mirror and freeze.

With small, slow backward shuffles of my feet, I bring myself back into view, and my eyes shoot wide.

Holy. Shit.

I turn fully, facing the mirror head-on, and a disbelieving laugh bubbles its way up my throat, but I quickly swallow it.

The cold hands, the chill that met my skin...

Paint.

Paint that can only be seen with the help of a specific type of light.

A black-fucking-light.

I look from the large, hot pink handprint on my neck, wide and strong and flawless, pressed and held there without so much as a protest, to the fluorescent blue finger trails that run along my chest. I shift slightly, a low curse leaving me.

Perfect palm prints cover my ass, both broad and curled, a shape one can only manage with a nice, full

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