Page 4

Julian

Skylar is going to cream his pants when he hears about this.

Bastard might just kill me, but I’ll have to remind him that he gave me the ‘go ahead.’ I can still taste Scarlett’s sweet juices on my lips, and I’m only a man—I can’t help but lick off what’s left of her to savor the flavor.

The girl had me genuinely surprised.

Sky always talks about her like she’s this bucking bronco who will stop at nothing to win a confrontation, but she was putty in my hands. She let me take charge, and even when she was ‘fighting’ me, it was obviously all for show.

She wanted to be played with and used, and she took it so fucking well.

I still remember how her throat felt pulsing around my fingertips when I forced her to choke on them, and my dick keeps twitching at the thought of it.

I may have left her wanting, but I didn’t get off either, and that shit’s torture on my balls.

He's sitting at the bar when I walk up, drinking some nasty clear liquor on ice. The bartender comes over to get my order, and after exchanging booze for cash, Skylar is itching for answers. “So? What happened?”

“You don’t want to know, brother,” I say regretfully, waving my hand .

He may think he does, but he really doesn’t. The kid has been pining over this girl for a year—so caught up in hating her guts, he would probably rip out her spine before ever actually talking to her like a human being.

“Uh, I obviously do. Why do you think I sent you in there, to give you a late birthday present or something?”

I bite out a soft chuckle and explain, “Well, I wouldn’t complain if that were the case. I’d probably have to thank you, because that was by far the most fun I’ve had toying with a broad in ages. And I didn’t even have to fuck her.”

He looks relieved at that notion, but he’s not finished interrogating me. I’m not going to get away with bare-minimum details here. “Just tell me, don’t make me fucking beg for it like an asshole,” he scoffs.

But I love begging, and he knows that. I wholeheartedly believe it’s the sweetest song to be sung from someone’s lips.

“I told her she’d have to come to the Red Room if she wanted the real deal, just like you told me to. She wouldn’t bite. Said she can’t. ‘It’s not for her.’ Some bullshit like that.”

“And before that?” he coaxes.

I just shrug. Guy’s really a glutton for punishment. I was trying to spare his feelings, but if he insists on knowing the nitty-gritty, who am I to say no?

“I took her in there, sucked her tongue like a goddamn lollipop, stripped her and tied her to the bed, blindfolded her, finger-banged her until she cried, and then crammed my fingers down her throat ‘til she choked.” His fist is clenched so tightly around his glass, I’m actually worried it might break…but the dick wanted details. “Let’s see…then I gagged her, licked that cunt until she was just about to come, and left her squirming before she could get off.”

I’m expecting a punch to the gut more than the words that come out of his mouth next. “How did she taste?”

Interesting .

I don’t really know how to answer that, especially without sounding like I’m as obsessed with her as he is. “I’m not gonna lie to you, Sky. You know how I feel about giving head. It’s a fucking chore and you can never guarantee what you’re going to get.”

“But?”

“But,” I say, pausing to take a sip of my drink, “I could eat her pussy all day. The way she cried for it was totally worth the effort, and I would have actually liked getting her off. She kept making these little whining noises, and if she wasn’t gagged, I’m sure she’d be begging for more. And the taste? Fucking delicious, man. Like her desperation was just seeping through. If you get her beneath you, you’re done for.” He holds up a hand, signaling for me to shut the fuck up, but I shrug him off. “I’m just saying, is all. I don’t know if you really want to go there.”

He takes a sip of his vodka before slamming the glass on the bar. “And what, let you have it all for yourself? I don’t think so. She’s mine to do what I want with. You can have the scraps.”

“You’re a downright prick, you know that?” I extend my glass, and he taps it with his own. He doesn’t have to say anything. We’ve got this inside-language, the two of us.

No hard feelings.

Scarlett emerges from the VIP hallway, and I nudge Skylar with my elbow while nodding in her direction. “Now, that’s what I like to see,” he mocks.

Her face is red and swollen from crying, her round cheeks blushed with frustration. Fuck, now my dick is hard again. I love it when they cry.

She makes eye contact across the bar, and we raise our glasses toward her. She looks from me to him, then back to me. Ah, the cogs seem to be clicking into place for her—they must be, because she’s wearing the same face of shock from twenty minutes ago when I stopped pleasuring her.

We may have altered our immediate appearances tonight to ensure she wouldn’t recognize us, but she seems to be recalling that the man next to me is the same one who approached her earlier at the bar. She knows we’re a team now.

Her shoulders rise and fall with this adorable huff of anger before storming off, no doubt to look for Penelope so she can tell her all about what happened .

Skylar is intent on getting her into the Red Room for his own personal torture session. We may be willing to break a few rules here and there to get her where we want her, but ultimately, that’s where things need to happen.

Truthfully, I’d have her anywhere. White Room, Blue Room… her room. I’d do anything to see her—hear her—unfolding beneath me again. Not that he would let me get another go at her, anyway.

We may be childhood friends, but he’s never shared. Not then, not now, not ever.

Not that I’m watching her like a hawk or anything, but she reenters the dance floor with Penelope a few minutes later, and the two resume dancing.

She’s beautiful, and that corset makes her tits look fucking phenomenal, so it’s no surprise to me when another man in a white mask propositions her.

What does surprise me is the man. He’s not supposed to be in white, and he’s not supposed to be talking to Skylar’s girl.

They leave the dance floor to return down the same hallway I led her through, but not before she flashes me a spiteful look over her shoulder. There’s no doubt he’s going to finish off what I started, so she can keep the attitude to herself.

“Let’s go home,” I mumble, finishing off the last of my bourbon.

I need to get Scarlett off my mind, get this temporary hair dye off my head, and have a good jerk-off session. And if I tap into the spank bank for a few images of Scarlett laid out on that bed for me…

What Skylar doesn’t know won’t hurt him.

The past few days have been a serious fucking downer. It’s a little hard to get a chick out of your head when she’s the only thing your roommate wants to talk about. Really, I’d settle for discussing the weather .

“So, this weather, huh?” I ask, taking a step forward to crane my neck towards the sky.

“I don’t give a shit about the rain, I was fucking talking, dude.” Yeah, I guess that was too much to ask for. Skylar takes another drag of his cigarette and pretends like I didn’t interrupt the most diabolical shit to come from his mouth. “We’ve got to make her want it so bad she’s crawling for it. What if we both go in white masks next time, but neither of us take her into the back rooms? Or we could—”

“You want to commit a whole night to pretending you’re a Pearl, just to get nothing out of it? That sounds like a lose-lose, my guy.” A drop of rain splashes on my hand, so I duck closer under the awning before my own cigarette gets doused out.

“You’re not fucking hearing me,” he snaps. “We already know she wants us, but we have to draw it out. Don’t you want her to beg? You love that shit, psycho.”

“As if you’d ever let me touch her again. It sounds an awful lot like I’m just doing you sexual favors ‘cause I’m such a nice guy.” I’m not. “Sorry, I don’t see the appeal in icing out my balls for your entertainment. My sack was the size of a snowball last time, asshole. And it won’t even be worth it to blow my load for some vanilla slut after I’m done teasing your bitch.”

He’s getting angry—he needs me, and we both know it. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t hoping he would offer to sweeten the pot, but that’s about as likely as me falling in love and settling down.

I stare blankly into the dark night as I smoke, contemplating what that might look like. I don’t know how to treat a woman if it’s not in the bedroom, so I couldn’t be a partner, a husband, or a father. It’s just not for me.

Funny, Scarlett said the same thing.

“I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with it, it’s just not for me.”

I know what my mother would say. It’s the same thing all those red-eyed zombie mothers who secretly hate their life say to people who express the desire to be child-free.

“You’ll understand when it happens to you.”

Hm, that’s an idea, isn’t it?

She might change her mind if I could convince her this is something she could want. She just needs to give it a proper chance.

“What if I would?” Skylar’s voice drags me from my own diabolical thoughts, and it takes a minute to register the implication.

Still, I need that shit in writing so he can’t revoke the offer.

“Would what?” I ask. I already know what he’s about to say—and I love the guy—but I love watching him cave against his better judgment almost as much.

“What if…” You can tell he’s really struggling with it internally. Like I said, this kid has never liked sharing his toys. “What if I let you have her too? If we can get her, what if I let you in on it?”

“I thought you’d never ask.” A greedy, victorious smile invades my face, and you can almost see the regret on his. “In that case, I have an idea.”