Page 35 of Dangerous Deviance
He broke away from the kiss, holding me at an angle, staring into my eyes. “What was that about?”
“Just wanted you to know,” I said in a quiet voice, “that I’m yours.”
He glanced behind me at the man, then turned back to me. “Let me take care of this,” he muttered.
The collared woman cowered to the side, hiding behind the bar. The older man put up his hands in defense. “N-n-now l-listen, Wil,” the man said, “I didn’t know she was yours. How could I—”
Wil pulled him by the collar. “Let’s deal with this in the back.”
I thought I saw Wil give the collared woman a wink as he took the man away. The old man was heavy and gave a hell of a fight.
“We’re friends, Wil!” the man shouted. “I’ve known you since you were in diapers. I was there when—”
His arms and legs swung, but Wil kept wrenching him toward a backdoor that led to a hallway. A few men dressed in plain clothes, helped anchor the older man, getting him into that back room. They must have been staff too.
The door closed behind them. The gambling hall fell silent once again. Someone turned up the music’s volume, and soon, the games and conversation returned, as if nothing had happened.
“This is for you,” the bartender said. It had celery, a cucumber slice, a lemon wedge, and a meatball sticking out of it. “From me,” she said. “For slapping that sonofabitch. On the house.”
I didn’t get the feeling that Wil would ever make me pay for my own drink, but it was still a nice gesture.
“I don’t drink,” I said.
“I know,” the bartender said. “I remember. It’s a mocktail.”
I raised a brow, then smiled. I lifted the glass, and she lifted a shot of vodka, and we both took our drinks. The sweet, tartness of pineapple and the fizz of carbonation greeted me. I nodded at her.
“Thanks,” I said.
“Thankyou,” she said.
By the time I finished the drink, Wil reemerged from the back, his jacket off, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, sweat on his brow. He joined me at the bar, then nodded at the collared woman waiting next to me.
“He had a heart attack,” he said to the woman. “Drug related, probably. You should get home.”
The woman ripped the collar off of her neck and ran towards the door that led back to the restaurant, a wild smile plastered on her face. Then Wil turned to me. A grin spread across his lips like wildfire. He grabbed my hand, pulling me towards the back door.
“Come on,” he said.
“I thought you had work?”
He held open the door for me, and I went through, waiting in the hallway on the other side. He followed behind me. The corridor was empty. There were no signs of that old man.
“Don’t you have work?” I asked again. “You were meeting someone, weren’t you? To talk about a shipment—”
He shook his head, grabbing my shoulders and pushing me toward one of the doors at the end of the hallway.
“I’m not interested in that right now,” he said.
We opened the door. A broad, wooden desk, covered in papers, was situated in the middle of the room. Two chairs were in front of it, with one chair in the back. With a sharp movement, Wil wiped his hand across the top of the desk, letting pages fall to the floor. Then he pressed me down, making me lay on it, with my back on the hard surface.
“That was impressive,” Wil said. I blinked up at him, waiting for him to explain, but he grasped the sides of my top, then ripped it open, buttons clattering to the ground.
“I don’t have another—”
“I don’t care,” he murmured, leaning down. He sucked my areola into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the nipple, the heat from his mouth spreading across my body in waves. I closed my eyes, grateful that in these moments, I couldn’t see or feel anything beyond what our bodies were doing. Even when he made me fuck myself with the handle of a knife, even when he made me want to do it, I didn’t see my sister in those nightmares. It was just us. Just Wil and me. No images. No visions. No voices. Just Wil, just me.
“You like showing off that you’re with me,” he breathed as he switched from one nipple to the other. “Is that it, Ellie? You like showing off.”
