Fucking Cece.
“It’s not my b?—”
“Don’t bother lying. I know you live here. I know you sleep upstairs. Take me to your room, or I’ll carry you.”
My pulse stutters. “No.”
“Then I’ll say it another way: get the fuck upstairs. Now.”
I’m going to go with him. I know it. But I’m not done playing, and as mean as he is, I know Jake’s more than willing to play along. I’m wet between my legs and not the least bit frightened. It’s a difference you could never explain to someone like Thrasher. How the line between danger and desire is drawn with trust. How a decent man can pretend to be a monster, but a monster only pretends to be decent.
“What happens if I go upstairs with you?”
Jake’s pupils expand until his irises seem entirely black. “I’m gonna lick your pussy, eat your asshole, choke you while you take my dick and then…” He leans forward, eating up the space between us and hooks a finger into the front of my bodice. He pulls it away slowly, staring down at my exposed nipples, “... I think I’ll finish on these. Got that?”
My breath catches. Igetthat I’ve never been so turned on in my life. I nod again, my whole body tingling, and Jake tugs on my bodice like it’s a leash. “I need to hear the words, Renaldo.”
“Yes,” I whisper. “I’ve got it. I want that.”
“Good girl.” He lets go of my bodice. “Upstairs.”
I’m about to stand when my skin prickles. I glance up and, sure enough, Thrasher Thompson is closing in on my playpen, holding a tub of gourmet ice cream.
Ancient fear grips my throat. What if Thrasher’s finally mad enough to hit me? What if he does what he said in one of his demented emails and?—
A warm hand covers mine.
“Don’t worry,” Jake says quietly. “He’s not gonna think this is your fault. I’m the one fucking this up for him.”
He squeezes my fingers and stands, squaring his shoulders as he turns to face Thrasher. “The hell d’you think you’re doing here, Thompson?”
Thrasher’s idiotic enough togive Jake a big shit-eating grin. “Oh, you know?—”
Jake snatches the ice cream from his hands. “Idon’tknow, because I’m pretty sure I made it clear to all you boys to stay away from Ada.”
He doesn’t bother keeping his voice down, and all across the bar, heads turn in their direction.
“Sorry, man,” Thrasher whines. “I thought?—”
“Yeah and that’s never been your wheelhouse, has it, Dan? Thinking?”
Thrasher cowers. I’m struck by how small he seems compared to Jake. How insignificant. It’s hard to believe he’s the same guy who’s terrorised me since I was fifteen.
“Sorry,” Thrasher repeats. “Seriously.”
“Fuck ‘sorry.’ Ada’s mine. You knew that.”
Thrasher looks to me, and Jake drives two fingers into his cheek. “Oh no, you’ll keep your eyes on me, Thompson. You hearing what I’m saying? Talk to Ada again, and you’re done.”
Thrasher holds Jake’s gaze for a second, then drops it to his shoes. “Alright.”
“Good.” Jake gives his cheek a tap and turns. The next second, I’m in the air, slung over one massive shoulder. “Bed. Now.”
“Jake!”
“Now.”
The whole bar watches him carry me to the staircase. Krissy has her mouth open like she’s about to scream. Davis looks bemused. Cece, delighted. But Thrasher’s practically spitting with rage as Jake carries away his nostalgia pussy and his fairy bread ice cream.
