He smirked, then took another drag. “You should get out there. No sense in being shy. Your body’s practically a tourist attraction. Might as well advertise.”
“C’mon, Cherry, we need a fourth!” Colt shouted fromthe pool. I turned to see him waving. “Darb’s busy slutting it up, and Ellie’s too afraid I’ll drown his sad ass to play.”
“Go to hell, Colt!” Elliot barked.
Colt splashed the water, sending out a spray that splattered on the pavement at our feet. “Tried it,” he replied. “Wasn’t for me.”
I watched them for a moment. Oz dipped under the water’s surface while Callum paddled forward. He climbed onto Oz’s shoulders and hung on as Oz rose to standing, forming a two-man tower.
“A fourth for what?” I called over.
Callum beamed. “Water chicken!”
Glancing back at Elliot, I asked, “What’s that?”
With the cigarette pinned between his teeth, Elliot replied, “Dumb game. But a good excuse to kick Colt in the dick if he drops you.”
“Do youwantme to kick him in the dick?” I asked.
Elliot smirked around the cig. “It would be the highlight of my year.”
From the pool, Colt bellowed again. “Don’t go poisoning him against me, you damn viper!” He flashed a toothy grin. “I’m looking forward to having his pretty thighs wrapped around my head all nice and snug. Makes a man feel at home.”
Elliot made a gagging sound while I shook my head and stood.
“I’ll see what I can do,” I said.
Shedding the towel spurred a catcall from Colt, and I fought the urge to bundle back up. But I was used to this—the attention, the display, the stares coming from people scattered across the rooftop. Subtle wafts of lust carried on the breeze and caressed my bare skin.
Nothing had changed, like Darby said. I was just apretty man in a bikini, and I was hungry enough to let them want me. Even Colt eye-fucked me all the way into the water while Callum shot him a filthy look for it.
It felt good. Ilikedthe spotlight, after all. Riding on Colt’s shoulders in tiny clothes wouldn’t earn me applause, but it dulled my hunger and gave me something else to feel. Something good. Something hopeful.
Away from the club and its cloying dark, the air tasted different. The sun was hot on my skin, and the sky seemed close enough to touch. For the first time in this life, I wasn’t performing. I was just… living.
The afternoon skipped by far too quickly, and Darby rounded us up for a swift return to the Dollhouse. I got a seat on the bus ride back and practically pressed my face to the window, committing every sight to memory.
Just before dusk, we climbed up the knotted sheet and spilled into Colt and Callum’s room soggy, sunburned, and satisfied.
As we filed out into the hall, heading to our separate bedrooms to get changed for club opening, Darby caught my attention.
“How was that, Cherry?” he asked. “Did you have fun?”
I’d lost track of him at the Crowndell. For a while, he’d been cuddled up with Vaughn on a big round daybed in a remote corner of the rooftop, then they’d disappeared. I should have checked on him, and felt a little guilty for only thinking to do so now.
“I did. Did you?”
He gave me that same smile, rehearsed and a little bit fake, then nodded. “Of course.” He adjusted the bulky beach tote slung over his shoulder, then tapped hisfinger on the tip of my nose. The touch hurt a little, which was explained when he said, “Meet me in the dressing room in five. Mazzy won’t believe you got that pink sitting inside all day.”
CHAPTER
TWENTY-ONE
Beck
Ten days after the first time I snuck Zephyr out of the club, I felt like a man possessed. Visits to the Dollhouse had become a nightly occurrence, as had trysts in the limo, courtesy of the building’s unguarded rear entrance. I’d grown accustomed to the incubus’s smell in my nose, his taste on my tongue, and his fingerprints stamped on my skin.
I needed an intervention.
