Page 75 of Don't Say You're Sorry

He narrows his eyes at me. I widen mine, and he finally drops it. “Fine. I’m going to find a dick to suck.”

“Hey,” I call, and he stops. “You seem off. You all right?”

He glares. I laugh. He flips me off and disappears into the crowd.

I turn back to the bar to find Adam watching me. “What’s his problem?” he asks.

I tilt my head. “Don’t you know?”

He frowns. “You know what? I don’t care. It’s my turn.” He tips his chin at the podium in the middle of the dance floor.

He pulls the shirt off, wringing it between his hands as he rounds the bar. He stops a couple feet in front of me, hesitating as if he’s waiting for permission. I nod, and he closes the distance between us, pressing his lips to my cheek as he hands me my shirt and places something else in my hand. “Still think you’re gonna win this game?”

Before I can respond, he moves away, grabs the barrier of his podium, and pulls himself up.

I look down at the object he gave me, clenching my jaw as I wrap my fingers around the small black remote that controls thebutt plug I gave him for Christmas four years ago. He better be fucking with me. If he’s seriously shaking his ass up there with a butt plug inside him, I’m going to choke the shit out of him. I’m gonna choke him while I fuck him in the bathroom.Goddammit.

Smugly, he moves his hips to the beat of the music, daring me with his eyes to make my move. Without breaking eye contact, I discreetly hit the button on the remote, and sure enough, he falters for a second, his lips parting slightly as he gasps.

This little shit.

He’s really wearing it. Right here in the open with his perfect body on display and a few dozen eyes eating up his every move. But I’m the only one who knows this little secret—I’mthe one with the remote—and it makes me feel a little better. So does the fact that he’s up there wearing my marks with pride.

My handwriting tattooed on his chest. My teeth marks indented on the skin above it. My bruises.My guy.

Without taking my eyes off him, I move closer to the bar and yell to Megan, “I’m gonna need you to let him take a break.”

She chuckles. “He said you’d say that. He’s got thirty minutes.”

Perfect.

I hit the button again and watch as he curls his fingers around the bar, his knuckles turning white. I smirk.Game’s not over yet, baby.

Leaning back against the bar, I slide my hand into the pocket of my jeans and gradually increase the intensity of the toy in his ass, enjoying the way he squirms. When he realizes I’m not moving, he sends a glare my way. I don’t think he expected me to last this long.

But then he grabs the bar again and grinds his hips, rubbing his dick against the metal, making the people around him whistle and whoop.

A literal growl creeps up my throat.Fuck it.

He laughs as I push my way through the crowd, hop up on the podium with him, and squeeze his hip, forcing him to stop. “Enough. You win.”

He opens his mouth to gloat, but I don’t give him the chance, grabbing his arm and pulling him off the podium. He’s still laughing as I drag him toward the bar, heading to the door behind it that leads to the office and the staff bathroom.

A few people stare at us, but I don’t regret my reckless behavior.Yet. Carter had a point earlier. I can’t let my relationship with Adam get back to our parents. If anyone finds out who he is to me, hopefully they’ll just assume that I’m a protective, bossy older stepbrother, not that I’m an obsessed, jealous lunatic who wants to threaten anyone who looks at him.

In the bathroom, I shut the door, lock us in, and push him against the wall. “Brat.”

He’s breathing hard as he tips his head back, baring his neck to me. I drop my face to it, inhaling him and licking the sweat off his throat. He grabs my head, trying to hold me down on him, so I snatch his hands and pin them to the wall above his head.

“Did I say you could touch me?”

He pouts as I use the shirt he gave me to haphazardly tie his wrists together. It’s not my best work, but it’ll have to do.

“Turn around.”

He spins to face the wall, hissing through his teeth when I grab a fistful of his hair and pull his head back on my shoulder. I press my lips to his ear. “Keep your hands on the wall and do not come,” I warn, wrapping my arms around him to unbutton his jeans. I push them down to the tops of his thighs, cursing when I realize he’s not wearing underwear.

I’m about to lose my damn mind, and he’s loving every second of it.

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