The hard thickness pressing against my ass made me shudder. I missed his closeness. I wanted him inside me, filling me, owning me like no one else ever had. My hand crept backaround, cupping Dawson’s length while I vibrated with need. A loud groan rumbled in my ear and my muscles froze in place.
“Fuck Theo, keep going,” Corvin begged in a low whine, nothing like the breathy, velvet whimper that I used to pull from Dawson so effortlessly. My stomach turned both in disgust at myself and crushing disappointment that he wasn’t the man I wanted.
“Wait, I-I can’t…”
I stumbled out of Corvin’s grasp. I shouldered through the dense crowd, the haze of drugs still heavy. My attention caught on something across the room and my mind steeped in pleasure at seeing Dawson’s face. His gaze connected with mine and even with his brows furrowed and mouth pulled in a tight line, he was still so damn beautiful.
My hand reached out toward him without conscious thought. I could almost trick myself into believing that he reached for me too. Noises faded, lights dimmed, and the world paused. The pull between us was infinite, stretching beyond time and reason, connecting us through all the devastation, loss, and anger.
All at once, the world rushed back in and I saw Aly saunter up to Dawson, her forehead lined in worry as she spoke to him. Her hand caressed his arm, breaking our contact as he dropped his attention to her. I wished I could read their lips, but in the next second I wanted to rip them off when Aly’s lips brushed the corner of Dawson’s mouth.
Red clouded my vision and pain rippled through me despite the drugs in my system. Watching them set off every instinct in my body to claim him, to remind him who he truly belonged to. And it would never be her. As long as I drew breath, Dawson was mine.
I reached for my ring, needing the steady weight to help me feel the smallest semblance of control. Panic flooded me when I couldn’t feel it, but just as quick I remembered where it hadgone. Disjointed thoughts hit my brain like electric pulses, sharp and fast.
He took it—beg for it—not her—find it—get it back—it hurts—can’t do it—steal it—need it?—
I blinked hard to clear the litany blaring in my head. I was upstairs in front of a too-familiar door, unsure of how I got up here. A singular focus had taken root and I couldn’t think of anything else but finding the ring. I tore through Dawson’s room, checking his drawers, desk, closet, anywhere he might have stashed it.
The door opened behind me and a split second of euphoria hit that he’d come for me, that he was there with me and not her.
Choose me—take me—don’t leave?—
“Theo, you alright? Why are you in here?” Corvin’s voice reached me through my rapidly depleting high. Either those drugs Aaron gave me must have been shit or they were no match for the deluge of desperation and hurt that were burying me.
“Looking for something,” I mumbled, darting glances around the room to see if I had missed any hiding spots. Corvin’s warm hand ran down my back before he pulled me around to face him.
“Hey, look at me,” he commanded softly, lifting my chin until I met his gaze. “You don’t seem okay. Is Aaron’s cocktail hitting you weird? Do you feel sick or anything?”
I ripped out of his grasp, feeling too hot, too stifled, too…everything. Every synapse was firing and my brain was broken morse code, lines and dots out of order. Dots of words swimming between lines of coke that hit me too fast.
Dawson doesn’t care. Not enough. He is hers—get him back—get back at him. Show him. Make him hurt—I hurt—too much. Want him here—come back—fuck you! Fuck me—need to fuck—need to feel—him. Him. Always him.
Dawson—
Come back?—
Please...
Lips pressed against mine, hungry and urgent. Hands tugged my hair and sent jolts of electricity straight to my cock. Skin clashed with skin and streaks of blissful pain followed nails down my back. A buckle clinked and a rush of cool air hit my legs as warmth engulfed my dick, and I surrendered to it.
I knew. The truth slithered through the lust and drugs and pain, and I knew. This wasn’t Dawson. God, how I fucking wanted it to be. But I knew his touch, his kiss, his scent better than my own name and none of this was right.
It wasn’t right. But I didn’t care.
I couldn’t.
I wish I was in control. But I wasn’t.
I wish I was Dawson’s. But I wasn’t.
And after this?
I never would be.
Chapter 7
Dawson
