Page 135 of Deviant Princess (Knight's Ridge Empire 5)

Right on cue, Dax and Low appear with plastic cups in hand.

“Down the hatch, kids,” Dax says with a wink.

“What is it?” I ask, peering into the cup.

“Just a little something to get the party started. Bottoms up.”

He downs his in one before crushing the cup and throwing it—badly—toward one of the old barrels that I’m sure will end up being a fire pit by the end of the night.

The others follow suit, and not wanting to be the only sober one left, I do the same, wincing as the alcohol burns down my throat. I welcome it, though, knowing that oblivion will soon follow.

“More,” I state. “I need more.”

“Welcome back to Lovell, Ms. Ramsey,” Archer says with a knowing smile. “Let’s do it in style.”

He hands me a hip flask and I waste no time in twisting the top off and taking a sip. I know him well enough to know he’s got some strong shit in here. Exactly what I need.

I have no idea how much time passes, but my head spins with alcohol and my skin is flushed with sweat as I dance as a group with Misha, Archer, and Dax, the four of us bumping, grinding and laughing as we stumble around.

It’s almost like I never moved away. The only difference is that when Archer starts kissing someone, it’s not me.

There’s no jealousy when he and Misha start going at it in the middle of our makeshift dancefloor.Just pure loneliness.

So when Dax steps up behind me, grips my hips, and pulls me tightly against his body, I don’t fight it.

I crave the connection to someone else too badly.

Walking away from Theo earlier left me colder than I ever could have anticipated.

But if I close my eyes, I can imagine Dax’s hands are Theo’s, that my skin burns and my blood boils in the same way when Theo touches me.

Closing my eyes, I rest my head back on his shoulder, our bodies continuing to move together while his hands start to roam and his cock swells against my arse.

My head knows I need to stop, but the weed and alcohol flowing freely through my body and the desire that thrums just under the surface help me force any logical thought away.

I don’t want logic.

I don’t want reality.

I want nothing.

Blackness.

Darkness

“Fuck, Emmie. You have any idea how long I’ve imagined this?”

“Oh yeah?” I groan, tilting my head so my lips brush his neck.

“All those times I watched you with Archer. So. Fucking. Jealous.”

His fingers thread into my hair, pulling my head back where he wants me as his lips graze over my jaw and down my neck.

My head screams that it’s not right. That his lips, his touch don’t feel right, that his scent is wrong, but it doesn’t stop my body turning into his and allowing his hand to skim up my side, over my waist until it rests on my ribs, dangerously close to my breast.

“Wanna go somewhere a little more private?”

NO,my head screams.