Page 54 of Dance of Defiance

come join?! :D I want your gorgeous cock in me.

I smirk as I peer at their lust-filled faces…faces that are flushed, with wide, dilated pupils. Okay, it's obvious why they’re up at eight in the morning. They’re still fucked up from whatever they took last night—speed or coke, knowing them—to keep the marathon fuck-fest going.

Chrissy

LOL. Gerard says “same” LMAO

I take a slow drag of my cigarette instead of answering.

It should be tempting. It should bemorethan tempting. Not tempting enough for me to skip rehearsal. I never do that for anything. But tempting enough for me to tell them to take a few more hits and keep the party going until I can join them later.

But there’s nothing tempting about the offer at all. And when my dick starts to grow hard, it’s not because I’m imagining Gerard and Chrissy taking turns deep throating me or bending over and sayingplease, Daddy, fuck my slutty hole.

It’s because the fantasy has abruptly switched to someoneelsedoing the very same things.

Ding ding ding…motherfuckingRoman.

God. Fucking. Dammit.

Why am I hard for that fucker? Who, I might add,hit me—I mean, obviously not on purpose, but still. Why the fuck am I turned on by that and the hundred other red flags that are Roman Nikitin?

“Will you please fucking quit those things already?”

I don’t bother responding to Chrissy, just set my phone down on the metal fire escape next to me. Then I look up and grin around my cigarette at Naomi.

“Good morning to you, too, baby girl.”

Naomi, another dancer with the Zakharova that I’m about as close with as I am with Brooklyn, eyes my cigarette despairingly. “Seriously. Gross. Toss it, please?”

I sigh and nod my chin at the two coffees in her hands. “Depends. One of those for me?”

“Duh, of course, bitch,” she grins. “Only if you lose the cancer stick, though.”

“Don’t try to tell me what to do,Mom!” I sigh dramatically.

Naomi rolls her eyes. “You want the coffee or not?”

“God, yes.”

I toss the cigarette away and gratefully pluck the to-go cup from her hand.

“What up, bitches!”

We both turn to see Lyra approaching down the alley, coffee in hand, her dance bag slung over her shoulder.

“What are we chatting about?” She grunts as she drops the heavy bag to the ground and hops up onto the fire escape, next to where I was just perched.

“Val’s disgusting smoking habit,” Naomi grumbles.

Lyra makes a face, pulling her red hair back and quickly twisting it up into a dancer’s bun. “For real—it’s fucking disgusting. Total turnoff.”

“Well, luckily for all of us,” I smile sweetly, “I’ve never concerned myself with whether or not I turn you on or?—”

“Eew!” Lyra chokes out a laugh, throwing the napkin wrapped around her coffee cup at me and making a face. “Why are yousogross?”

“Come on, baby,” I tease, lifting my shirt and rolling my stomach muscles. “You know you want a piece of this.”

Lyra groans and rolls her eyes. Naomi makes a tsk-tsk sound.