“You okay, Princess?” His voice is tender, grounding.
I blink up at him, nodding slowly. I needed that. I neededthem. Their touch is nothing like before. It doesn’t take, itoffers. It’s a promise. Safety. Acceptance. Desire.
I lean back into Johnny’s chest. He weaves his fingers into my hair and tugs, tilting my head back so I’m forced to meet his eyes.
God, I like that.I like it a lot.
“Time to go, honey,” he growls.
My heart skips. He releases my hair but catches my hand, threading our fingers together as he pulls me through the crowd. I glance over my shoulder, but Axel and Nik are nowhere to be seen.
Johnny leads me back down the driveway, silent and sure, one hand still laced with mine.
I yelp when he suddenly lifts me and sets me down on the hood of the car. The metal is cool beneath my thighs, but his heat burns hot as he steps between my legs and braces his arms on either side, caging me in.
He’s so close, I have to lean back on my hands to meet his eyes.
“The tension in there was killing me.”
I wince. “Was it that obvious?”
He huffs a low laugh. “What? That they’re both trying to piss on your leg?” His smirk is amused, but there’s tension in the tightness of his shoulders. “Yeah. It was obvious.”
The alcohol humming in my blood emboldens me, which is the only reason I ask, “And you?”
His brows lift. “What about me?”
I hold his gaze, steady and defiant. “Areyoutrying to piss on my leg?”
His smile fades. In its place, something darker blooms. Heleans in, eliminating the space between us until my breathing hitches. One of his hands slides through my hair and cradles the back of my neck, firm and possessive.
“I don’t need to piss on your leg,” he says, voice low and rough. “You’re already mine.”
He ghosts his lips softly over my own. So close, but not touching. Just enough to make me ache. My thighs instinctively try to close, but he’s there, solid and unmoving, keeping me wide open. Vulnerable.His.
He notices. Of course he does. His eyes drop to where my skirt’s ridden up, to the sliver of red silk between my legs, caged in by my fishnets. A pained sound tears from his throat. Something primal.
“Are you dripping for me right now?”
He teases his lips over mine, once more. No matter how badly I want to, I can’t close the distance. His firm grip on the back of my neck keeps me still, and I whimper in frustration when he pulls back again instead of giving me what I want.
I look down and watch, mesmerized, as he rubs one of his knuckles up the center of my panties, slow and sure. My whole body shudders at his touch, but it’s from pure pleasure.
“Oh, honey,” he murmurs, eyes dark. “These are soaked.”
I’m still entranced as he brings that knuckle to his nose and inhales deep. His eyes flutter closed for a second, and then open. Blazing.
“Fuck!” he growls, voice low and wrecked. “One of these days, I’m gonna lay you out and keep you open for me… tongue-drunk and shaking… until I’ve branded myself into every inch of you. I won’t stop until I know every breath, every moan, every twitch of your body until it’s carved permanently into my flesh. Soaked into my blood. Burned into my fuckingsoul.”
“Yes,” I breathe. “Please.”
But even as my body arches into his, greedy for every inch of contact, my mind flickers tothem. To the way their hands slid over me on the dance floor like they already knew me. Claimed me. Like they’dearnedme.
“But…” My voice is barely a whisper against his lips. “What if I want to be theirs too?”
The words hang there, raw and shameless, and I wonder if I’ve ruined it. If jealousy will push him away. But it’s not rage I find in his eyes. It’s something darker. Hungrier.
He lets the question settle in the space between us, like smoke curling in the air. Then he smiles. A sharp, dangerous thing. Not cruel. Just certain.
