It’s nothing but a busted-ass bar pretending to be a nightclub at the edge of an alleyway not far from a tourist corner.
I scoff, a low laugh leaving me as I give myself some space, my eyes hardening and moving back to Ransom, who has yet to look away from me. “This is the perfect fucking place.”
He hears it in my tone, the heavy, the pathetic hint of misery, as do I, but only once it’s too late to change or charm up.
His eyes narrow on mine, before darting to the wound on my cheek and pausing there.
His chest rises and falls rapidly, his nostrils flaring, and before I can think to move, he’s grabbing me again.
He hauls me into him, anger and frustration and something I can’t quite name driving the creases between his brows deeper, the edges of his gaze tighter.
And then his hands are on me, rough and tight and dare I say possessive.
Heat pulls low in my core, but I force my arms still at my sides.
This isn’t what I wanted tonight.
I wanted a stranger.
I needed a stranger, and the guy in front of me should feel like the perfect one.
But he doesn’t.
I hate it.
Ransom’s palms run lower, moving over my hips, and framing the curve of my body over the strings of my thong. He squeezes, shifting, his mouth now aligned with mine.
I attempt to pull away, swallowing my own breath when his hand flies up to my jaw, keeping me where he wants me.
His eyes are furious, desperate, and narrow when my tongue sweeps out to wet my lips. He starts to shake, his entire body radiating with heat and power, with frustration, and any fight I had in me vanishes.
Do it.
Kiss me.
Bite me.
Want me.
He’s close. To me, to doing exactly what my mind has no right to cry for, yet is. The shake of his grip grows wilder, undeniably noticeable, but he doesn’t take. His hands drop, a wall slamming over his eyes.
My shoulders begin to fall, but then a bruising grip wraps around my upper arm from behind. In one quick move, I’m whirled around, pulled forward as my head is yanked back, and Beretta’s there, his lips hot on my neck with zero hesitation.
I gasp into the dim-lit space, shock compressing my muscles.
Beretta is a savage. He greedily kisses, sucks, and flicks his tongue over my skin, my entire body trembling in response.
A chest slams into my back, nearly knocking the air from me, and forces my steps forward as Beretta blindly shuffles backward, bumping a random couple but nobody pauses to care. They move out of our way, the space becoming ours.
Large hands come around, pressing against my lower abdomen, driving my ass into the very hard cock aligned with it.
“Bite her.” Ransom’s raspy demand burns low in my stomach, and Beretta does as he’s told. “She deserves it.”
He bites, and a hissed whimper slips from me, my head falling onto Ransom’s shoulder.
He growls, his hands running lower, down to mid-thigh, taking my dress with them on their way up.
Half of my ass is out, right here in the dark corner of the dance floor, but I couldn’t care less.
I need more.
I want more.
“Arsen,” Ransom suddenly snaps, a strangled sense of desperation in his tone. Arsen is there in a flash as if he was waiting to be called on.
Hoping to be.
Dazed, I look to him, and he the others.
They have an entire conversation without words while I remain suspended between them, arched and curled like a snake. Three short seconds pass, I blink once, and we’re leaving.
My body is on fire, my mind gone and suddenly we’re outside. Parked the furthest row back of the dark parking lot with the hood still down, is Arsen’s car.
I’m spun and shoved against the trunk, my heels allowing my ass to reach the very edge.
Ransom stares a long moment. Then with slow movements, he reaches inside his back pocket, pulling out a black bandana.
Beretta slips in front of him, his hands starting at the sides of my breasts and gliding down to my hips.
His eyes hit mine and he lifts me, the cold metal making me jump slightly with contact. Despite the chill, I’m sweating.
Anxious.
Ready to tear away from my own skin.
I need a night to flip off the fucking world.
A night to want everything I shouldn’t, be all I’m not allowed to be, but I don’t have to say it out loud.