The room fills with the sound of flesh slapping flesh, Dragon’s grunts, and Sam’s cries. Sam slaps the table with her palm, crying out, and Dragon’s hips speed up.
Heck, how have I not come while sitting here?
“That’s what I’m going to do to you, Little Thief.” Spider’s lips tickle my ear again, and his growled rasp makes me shiver with part fear, part need. “Fuck your ass the way it’s meant to be fucked.”
Dragon’s thrusts go wild. “Oh, fuck me, yeah!”
Sam screams and thrashes.
Lord, I nearly rub myself to release right there.
“Holy shit, this is hot,” Rat says, rubbing his crotch. “Thank fuck the cameras are recording this shit.”
Striker grins.
Dragon moves aside, wiping his hair out of his face. He swats Sam’s butt cheek. “Such a good fuck.”
“No shit,” Rat adds. “Who wants copies of the show?”
My heart plummets. If Rat could give copies to everyone here, would Spider let him do that with the footage from his room?
Lying across the pool table in full view now and panting, Sam’s hand rises slowly, tiredly, as if she’s wiped.
Wow. I guess you never can tell about people.
“Give me one,” Spider calls. “It’s making my Wildcat hot.”
My cheeks burn. Ground, swallow me now. I could kill him.
“I get the first one.” Dragon’s hand cracks down on Sam’s other cheek hard enough that she whimpers.
Striker saunters over and claps Spider on the shoulder. “You missed a tight little pussy there, brother.”
Spider’s hands slide away from me. Horror over my own arousal at everything I saw streaks through me. I start to slide off the bar stool, but Spider tugs on the leash, winding it around his fist, leaving barely enough slack.
“Stay where you are. No, I haven’t,” he adds to Striker, clapping me on the thigh. “I got a tight little one right here.”
Heaven help me, there’s no hope for me, is there?
Spider’s fingers squeeze my nape again. “I’ll be trying out her sweet little ass tonight too,” he says, his eyes sparkling. “Maybe I’ll let you have a go at it sometime.”
Panic chokes the air in my lungs, and he glances at me with a crooked smile that’s rife with threatening promise.
There are no words to describe my hatred for this man.
22
Confession
Striker squeezes Spider’s shoulder and says something to him, but I can’t hear his words over the hammer of my heart. He walks off, and my heart slows.
Would Spider actually do that to me? Would he pass me off to Striker to use like some whore?
The panic must show on my face, because when Spider looks at me, his brow goes up. He glances between Striker’s retreating back and me.
“Are you worried, Wildcat?”
There’s no response I can give that won’t make things worse. Anything I say would only give him more ammunition. I blink at him, silent.
“I think you’d enjoy taking my friend’s cock,” he murmurs, stroking my lips with his fingers.
My jaw tightens. “I hate you,” I grit out.
He chuckles and gives my hair a light tug.
A squeal from Sam rings out, and then a booming laugh from Dragon. Spider looks at the pool table, and I follow his gaze.
Dragon finishes talking to Reaper and Rat with another laugh and gives Sam a final pat on the butt. Then he strides off to the bathroom.
Karma clears her throat behind me. I whip around, but it’s not Karma standing there. It’s Tequila. She’s staring after Dragon, but her normally soft face is stony. Ice water pours into my gut.
“Oh, Lord,” I mutter.
Tequila gives me the most strained smile I’ve ever seen, as if it physically hurts, shrugs as if to say it’s nothing, then marches off to the storage room behind the bar.
A sudden flare of hatred for Dragon hits me, and my heart breaks for Tequila.
Spider is watching me with one of his infernal smirks. He turns his head and watches Tequila disappear, and when he looks at me, his eyes dance.
He’s enjoying this.
“You look like you’d love to claw someone’s face off,” he remarks casually, leaning with one arm on the bar.
“They do what they have to for the club, right, Spider?” I say frostily.
“Yes.” His tone is inflexible. “Tequila knows how this works. And she will take whoever wants her.”
So, Tequila’s just a club girl.
The hopelessness of Tequila’s situation, and as such, Monica’s torch for Pip, has never felt so futile as it does now.
“And so will Sam,” I sigh.
“I don’t think she’s suffering for it much, Wildcat.” He nods toward the back of the