Hell, I haven’t thought about him in over a year, but for some reason, he’s all I can think about right now.
“Wanna dance?” a thick accented voice asks me, forcing me to turn around.
I’m met by a solid wall of muscle. The man towers over me, his olive skin fully illuminated by the club’s strobing lights. He’s older than me by quite a few years, but that age has blessed him tremendously. He smiles, perfect white teeth flashing me in the black light.
“I’m Arturo,” he exclaims, sticking out his hand.
I shyly take it, unsure of how to feel about the man who could easily be my father’s age. “Poppy.”
He smirks. “You part of the club?”
I nod. “One of the club bunnies.”
His nose scrunches for half a second before evening out. “So, not an Ol’ Lady?”
“No.”
He nods. “Wanna dance?”
My head bobs for a few seconds before the words catch up. “Um, sure.”
Arturo takes my hand, leading me onto the dance floor. He unbuttons his jacket before taking it off and hands it to a man that hovers near us. A tiny tuft of hair peeks out of the top of his crisp, white button-down shirt that’s rolled up to the elbows, those first two buttons dangerously undone.
He’s a gentleman at first, keeping his distance, before silently asking for permission to move closer with those large, brooding, brown eyes. I allow it, even though everything in methinks this is a bad idea. But that’s nothing new. I’ve made nothing but bad decisions this past year.
After a good few minutes of dancing, he makes his move. Hand attaching to my hip, the smell of his expensive cologne hitting my nostrils with an alluring draw that has me inching closer. His lips don’t give me hives like all the men that came before him. They’re warm and welcoming, the kind of kiss that makes a girl forget all the bad shit that’s happened over the past year. The last time a man erased my thoughts like this, it was Wesley.
Maybe that’s a sign?
But if it’s a good or bad one… I have no fucking clue.
“You claimed, Poppy?”
I shake my head, buried in a lust-driven fog that has me forgetting how to speak. “I just exist.”
He grips my chin, gently forcing me to look in his eyes.
“Well, I’m going to make sure you never “just exist” ever again.”
He tugs me to the center of the room, his voice commanding everyone to look his way. “I’m shouting this so all of you fuckers know, that Poppy is mine. I claim her.”
The Misfits barely nod in agreement, too many of them are too drunk to really care, or busy wooing women who will have no problem helping them get their dick wet.
“They may not care, Poppy. But I do. You’re my girl now, okay?”
I nod robotically, standing up on my tiptoes to beg for more kisses. For once, I’m not thinking about my cravings, or how they’ll make me forget how pathetic my life has turned. All I’m thinking about is Arturo… how to please him. How to keep him from seeing the real me. It’s all my mind can think about as he leads me out of the club and straight to a sleek black limousine parked outside.
Once we’re outside, he notices the markings on my thin arms and frowns. “Is this how you live your life?”
The disappointment in his eyes brings on more guilt than it should. My arms instantly retreat behind my back, my gaze hitting the cold concrete for support.
His fingers gently lift my chin again, his smile small but unjudgmental.
“Hey now. It’s okay. We all have our demons.”
A gentle kiss follows those sweet words.
“And I can’t wait to figure out what those demons are and be the one to slay them.”
