Page 34 of From Hell

“Chrissy, there’s no fucking ice.”

“I told you not to call me that. And who the fuck puts ice in a three-hundred-pound glass of whiskey?”

“Who cares? Let’s go back to the party.”

“Fuck the party. Come here,” Christian says, voice thick and heavy with desire. The sound of them kissing drowns out even the crackling fire. Kissing turns into heavy panting and groaning, and then all-out sex.

And there’s nowhere to escape.

Jaxon is so still I’m not even sure he’s breathing. I dare not look up at him, so I blink my watering eyes and try to imagine I’m anywhere but plastered against Jaxon Clémont. But it’s no use.

Suddenly, I’m hot. The heat of his skin, his solid presence, and the sound of two people fucking just a few steps away within the same room burn me where I stand. I want to run, but the lightest pressure of his hands has me held fast, causing flames to lick my insides, traveling like wildfire to my lower abdomen.

As the woman climaxes noisily, Jaxon shifts his weight, his thigh pressing between my legs, my mind conjuring dark, sordid thoughts. Without thinking, I clench my core, and the heat spreads lower.

“Now be a good girl and suck me off, love,” Christian says breathlessly. There’s the sound of her obeying. I bite my lip against Jaxon’s palm. Immediately, I regret it. He tastes of salt. I moan inwardly.

“Good fucking bitch, that’s it.”

All I can do is close my eyes and focus on my breathing.

Jaxon’s breath is hot on my neck as he holds me tight.

I ignore the slick, wet ache pooling between my trembling legs.

“What the fuck. You bit me.”

“Then don’t call me a bit—”

There’s a loud crack, making me jump.

“Shut the fuck up. I’ll call you what I want.” A whimper and then a cry. “Grab the bottle, bitch. Let’s go to my room. I need my cock sucked extra long and hard before I pass out tonight.”

In the darkness of the curtain, I stare up at Jaxon. He’s not looking at me, but his body is stiff. There’s the sound of them leaving, the door closing with a bang as they go. Jaxon doesn’t release me straight away.

“We need to do something,” I say, but it comes out as a mumble.

Jaxon says nothing. He waits, body tense, and only after several minutes does he release me, moving off into the room, leaving me behind the curtain. I resist the urge to wilt against the wall and storm out behind the curtain after him. He’s pouring himself another drink, leaning against the bar, when I reach him. Anger digs in my chest at the sight of him and his languid pose. “Do you always hide behind the curtains when a woman is getting abused?”

Jaxon sighs and looks at me, drink in hand. “I was protecting you from getting caught.”

“Protecting me?” I snort. “I’m not the one who needs protecting.” I’m well aware my voice is high-pitched.

His dark eyes give me a once-over. “She’ll survive. He won’t do anything drastic here.”

I gape at him. “What kind of misogynist club is this?” I ask, even though I know. I’ve read enough derogatory articles to understand what members this place attracts.

“The kind that I can’t be bothered to interact with.”

“I’ll go rescue her myself, shall I?”

Jaxon raises a brow at me. “She won’t thank you.”

I stare at him open-mouthed. “I just…” I shake my head. “I just don’t understand you.

I’m halfway to the door, tears blurring my vision, when Jaxon grabs me. “Wait, Laine.”

I spin around, glaring at him. “What?”