I look to Ava for rescue, but instead of helping me, she just throws me an appraising look and eventually a nod ofapproval. She wants me to get over Eric almost more than I want me to.
Shaking my head at her, I laugh and let blondie’s hands stay where they are, reciprocating with my own hands reaching behind me to hold onto his hips while we dance.
As we move together to the music, my hands trail from his body back to his hands that rest on my hips. I grab one of them and pull it up to my throat, and he gives me a firm squeeze in return, just like I wanted. I didn’t really know that I was one of those ‘choke me’ girls until Eric grabbed me in that club.
The memory of his hand wrapped around my throat and his face above mine, spitting tequila into my mouth flashes in my mind and sends a bolt of electricity shooting through every nerve.
“Should we get out of here?” I turn to shout at him.
He gives me a nod, and I look to Ava, inclining my head toward the exit of the building. If this guy wants to hook up, he’s going to have to wait until she gets home safely first, because I’m not ditching her here.
The three of us make our way toward the exit in a chain, weaving through the thick crowd of people. I scan the building as we leave, taking in the sheer number of people, even up in the VIP section. It’s foggy up there, but I could swear that I see someone I recognize. I just can’t place it.
•
I stumble into my apartment, the blond guy following close behind, and I set my purse down on the end table that sits next to my couch. I feel hands on my ass and I turn to meet their owner in a kiss.
“Wait,” I breathe, putting a hand to his chest. “What’s your name?”
“Ethan.”
I wrap my arms around his neck and meet his mouth again, letting his tongue into mine as I pull him toward my bedroom. We drop onto my bed, which I’m really wishing now that I would have made before going out tonight, but oh well. I guess it’s not any worse than the makeup still strewn across the top of my desk.
Swimming in the bunched fabric of my bedding, we work to tear our clothes off, throwing them in every direction around us, and I hurry to dig through my nightstand drawer, pulling out a condom and smacking it against his chest. “Put that on,” I order him.
I honestly expect an argument from him; he kind of looks like the ‘oh, that won’t fit my massive dong, I can’t wear it’ type. The ones who would literally watch you put your entire arm into the rubber and still insist that they’re too big for it. But he surprises me by rolling it down over his cock without question before climbing back on top of me.
Whose pussy is this?
Eric’s voice sounds off in my head as Ethan slips inside of me, his hips rocking against my own. Even when he grabs one of my legs and hoists it above his shoulder, I think about Eric. The way that he played with me, the way that it felt when he snorted that Molly off of my ass – the way that the Molly made him feel inside of me.
I let out a moan at the memory, grabbing onto the back of Ethan’s head and balling my fist in his hair, and I roll my hips into his.
“You like that?” He taunts.
In my head, he’s Eric, holding me up against the wall and fucking me so hard that I can’t even see straight.
“Yes,” I moan.
In my head, Eric’s hand is around my throat and that animalistic look on his face sends shivers down my spine.
I shake my head, bringing myself back to the present. To the blond guy on top of me with his bottom lip tucked under his teeth while he thrusts into me.
“Choke me,” I pant. He almost looks offended that I asked, so I tell him again. “Choke me.”
Ethan’s hand finds its way to my throat, giving a weak squeeze. I put my hand over the top of his and force him to squeeze harder, until it’s as close as I can get it to what Eric did with me. I know that I’ve gotten it right when Electricity shoots directly between my legs and I let out a whimper.
My hips buck hard against Ethan’s and I use my free hand to hold onto the back of his head, crying out as pleasure shoots through me.
This was supposed to get me over Eric, or at least serve as some sort of dickstraction, but now I just miss him even more.
There is something seriously wrong with me.
EIGHT
Davis
The clubs in Cancun were packed, but this place has most of them beat by a mile. Judging by the line at the entrance that wraps around the block, if we hadn’t reserved a table, it probably would have taken an hour to get inside. This is the kind of turnout I want every fucking night when doors open at our club; it’s packed, but not so much that people aren’t enjoying themselves.
