Page 107 of Cruel Pleasures
I return to my table clutching a fresh whiskey, projecting a forced cavalier air. Nolan and Wesley Cromwell take one look at me and release irritating chortles.
“What’s wrong, Archie ol’ boy?” Nolan asks. “Something got you blue?”
“You do look like you’re in a sour mood,” admits Wesley. He claps his hands together. “I know. How about we request some of the dancers on stage give you a private show? I’m sure the VIP room is open. How do you feel about the redhead with the giant jugs? Those things in your face will raise the spirits of any man!”
“I’m fine.”
My tone’s terse, signaling no more questions should be asked.
I reclaim my seat and try to relax like I had earlier. I’d sipped on my drink and watched the naked women gyrate on stage to the seductive pulse of music. Returning to my seat now, my mind polluted with thoughts of Imani, I can’t enjoy the show.
She’s all I can think about.
Visualize as I see the women writhing on stage.
Her sensuous curves on display for my viewing pleasure. Her full breasts bouncing. Her round hips swaying. Her hourglass shape putting me in a trance ’til I could take no more and wrenched her toward me for a hard kiss.
Then took her away for a passionate fuck.
Worse is how acutely aware I am of the fact that she’s doing just that in this very moment—without me.
With him.
I grit my teeth and glare at the stage.
It doesn’t occur to me how I look to the others. Nolan and Wesley have attempted to resume their conversation about their investments, though there’s unmistakable tension in the air. Both throw furtive glances at me as if still tempted to press for more info.
You won’t play her game. She wanted you to chase her.
I down more of the whiskey and savor its burn torching my throat. It matches the rage burning me up from the inside.
When I’ve felt like this in the past, I didn’t bother restraining myself—I went out and did bad things. I stalked the tourist haunts on the isle and found an outlet for the dark urges I had. They wound up as severed bits in trash bags I dumped in the water.
Nobody noticed. Nobody cared.
Imani cares. Her horrified reaction, then the way she gave in, they were the realest things I’ve ever seen…
Now she’s off in playroom six. She’s betrayed me after I made it clear who she belongs to.
The last of the whiskey slides down my throat as I slam down the glass and rise to my feet.
“Archie ol’ boy, where are you—” Nolan starts but never finishes.
I’ve already strode off toward the lounge exit.
The manor becomes a maze I must navigate through the red-tinged haze of my raging temper. I blink, and I’m moving down the halls of the Market where Jerome rushes to fall into step beside me and inquire if I want a room.
“Room six.”
“But, Master Hurst, room six is occupied.”
“Room six,” I repeat a second time, blowing past him.
“Master Hurst, you can’t!”
I wrench open the door and slam it shut before the pudgy caretaker can stop me. The sight before me makes me lose any shred of sanity I have left.
Imani in her bra and panties, straddling the masked warden on the sofa. Kissing on him. Running her hands all over him. Whispering things into his ear.
