Page 45 of Toxic B!tch
He laughs, the deep sound vibrating under my palm. “I feel you,” he says, shaking his head. “Fine, go flirt and make your money, baby. But remember whose girlfriend you are.”
I rise onto my toes, brushing my lips against his in a slow kiss before nipping his bottom one, just hard enough to make him groan.
“How could I forget?” I murmur, letting my fingers tease along the hem of his shirt. “He’s only the best fuck I’ve had and the sexiest man I’ve seen.”
His hands tighten on my waist, and I know if I stayed, I wouldn’t be leaving anytime soon. And as much as I want to, as much as I love teasing him and letting him pull me apart, there’s something else I need tonight.
I swat his ass with a grin, slipping away before he can catch me, and sashay out of the house toward my bike.
Now it’s time to track down Elle.
No one hurts what’s mine.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
INDIGO
Tracking down Elle was a bust a few nights ago. She was home, surrounded by friends, and I’m no idiot. Patience is a virtue, or so they say, but I’ve never been one for virtue.
Malik came over, true to his word, the next night, and I took my frustrations out on him. On his body. On his dick. I think I sucked the poor man dry. By the time I was done, he was begging me to ease up, to let him take a breather, voice wrecked, body trembling beneath me. He swore he needed a minute to recover, but I could feel the heat of him, the way his body betrayed him, wanting more even as he pleaded for mercy.
But still, it wasn’t enough. The tension in my chest, the clawing, gnawing need under my skin—it’s only gotten worse. Orgasms don’t cut it anymore. No matter how deep I sink my teeth into Malik, no matter how many times I make him come undone, it doesn’t satiate the hunger inside me.
I need blood.
I need the look in someone's eye as they draw their last breath.
And so, I concoct a plan.
It’s almost too easy. People are so fucking predictable.
I tell Emil that the bitch from the other night will be back tonight. “She left her card here, and I called her to let her know we have it,” I say, watching as he smirks. “Oh, since she left before I could close her out, I doubled her tab.”
Sure enough, just like I predicted, she calls up here bitching, saying we scammed her after throwing her out. I keep my voice even, pleasant. “I completely understand,” I tell her. “Come in at ten tonight, and we’ll reverse the charge. And the bartender who ‘assaulted’ you will apologize.”
She doesn’t even recognize my voice. The fucking idiot.
She shows up at ten sharp, strutting in like she owns the place.
Perfect.
From the moment she steps through the door, I’m watching her. She’s confident, but not in the way that means anything. Not in a way that’s dangerous. She’s the type who thinks she can do whatever she wants because no one has ever made her face consequences. The type who thinks she can run her mouth, toss out accusations, and walk away without a scratch.
She has no idea what kind of storm she’s walked into.
She marches up to the bar, eyes raking over me with disdain, and I just smile.
"How can I help you?" I ask smoothly.
She plants a hand on her hip. "I left my card here the other night and you scam artists charged me way more than I drank. I need a reversal."
"Of course," I say, taking her card. I go through the motions, processing the refund without a single hitch. No need to tip her off.
I hand her the card back. With a sigh, she takes it, then crosses her arms
She’s waiting.
"Anything else?" I ask, tilting my head, feigning innocence.
