Page 27 of Crossed
It’s busy tonight, but it’s no matter. I find her almost immediately, her aura like a lighthouse, blinding me with its dangerous glow.
She’s chatting with a man at the end of the bar, her head flying back with her tinkling laughter while she weaves her magic like a spiderweb, luring another poor sap into her clutches. He leans in and whispers something in her ear, and she grins before nodding, the fake red hair whispering against the small of her back, making me jealous of synthetic strands.
And then they’re off, maneuvering between tables and the plush sofas along the walls before they disappear into a hallway, where I assume the private rooms are.
A wave of possessiveness pours down my spine, thick and hot.
There’s a split second where I consider my choices. Where Itryto be a decent man. But that’s all it is: a second.
I stride across the floor with purpose, retracing their steps until I’m hovering in front of a closed- off room, separated by a heavy purple curtain instead of a wooden door. I glance around, looking for staff, for a bouncer or somebody who will see what I’m doing and rip me away, but there’s just an empty chair in the far corner of the hall and the thump of the bass that’s so loud it rattles my insides. My fingers glide along the velvety material of the curtain, and I slide it open just enough to peer inside, my heart pounding so fast it makes my chest cramp.
My throat dries, a violent current of…somethingrushing through me at the sight that greets me. It’s different from what I’m used to, but it rains down on me like a monsoon, the sickness inside me making me ache and throb for pleasure instead of pain.
The two of them are near the far wall of the small room, catty- corner to where I am, just her side profile visible. Amaya’s on the man’s lap, her heavy breasts kissing the open air, and it’s enough to drive me mad, quick flashes of her pebbled nipples torturing me like a storm cloud that never rains as she twists and grinds on someone who isn’t me.
He’s completely consumed by her.
I can relate.
For the first time since I was a child, I grow angry with God.
Howeasythis would all be if I didn’t have morals separating what I crave from what I know is right.Why would you put her in my path?
The gold of the man’s wedding band shimmers as his hands rise from his sides and he digs meaty fingers into the flesh of her gyrating ass, a deep groan rumbling from him as he thrusts his hips up, simulating sinking himself inside her.
I grit my teeth, my cock aching and hard and my chest burning with envy.
“No touching,” Amaya snaps, reaching back and removing his touch. “You know the rules, Andrew.”
“Esmeralda,” he rumbles, his hands dropping back down onto the couch. “Such a fucking tease.”
There’s a stack of bills lying next to them on the couch, and he moves to grab a bill from the pile, slipping it into the band of her G- string. I imagine breaking off his fingers one by one, reveling in the screams that would accompany thesnap.
He smirks and she giggles, light and airy and fake as hell.
My monster rears its head like it smells fresh meat.
I soak in every detail of Amaya’s bare back, the indent in her waist that flares out to perfect wide hips, the small glimpses of pebbled dark areolas silhouetted by the curve of her breast.
My cock leaks as arousal makes my balls heavy with want.
“Hey, what the fuck are you doing?” A deep voice cuts through the moment, and I straighten, irritated that I got so lost in the moment that I stopped paying attention to my surroundings.
I don’t reply, stepping away from the curtain and letting it drop back in place before twisting to face whoever’s caught me red- handed.
“Hey,” the bulky man repeats, walking closer. “I asked you a question.”
I smile when he gets close, dwarfing the man in the shadow of my height.
His brows furrow, nostrils flaring. “You can’t be back here.”
“I was just leaving,” I reply, walking backward slowly with my hands held up high.
He doesn’t do anything, although I’m not sure why. He just crosses his arms and nods toward the exit, and I take the opportunity, slipping out the door into the alley behind the club.
But I don’t leave.
The hours pass and my fingers grow numb and stiff, even while wearing my gloves, and my legs scream in exhaustion as I perch near the employee parking lot, watching and waiting.
