Page 3

Having finally had enough of this pity party, I peel myself off the couch, ready to call it a night and drown my sorrows somewhere I can be angry and bitter without judgment. Mitch can continue to ignore me as revenge, and I can move on and Google the next town that will ruin me.

At least then, I can accept my inability to share and live a life of one-night stands, daring any man to even attempt to get close to me again. I can be the town’s reclusive whore, but at least I’ll be content with my life choices. They always say the grass is greener on the other side, but it’s so fucking hard to look at the ground beneath my feet and never see a single shade of green.

A burst of laughter echoes through the room, and I shift my gaze toward the source just in time to see the four losers who work in the mailroom at the bookshop, sloshing beer from their cups as they stumble across the floor, singing off-key and heading straight toward me.

I stumble to get out of their way, but it’s too late. Beer and hands cascade down my body. The cold liquid quickly soaks through my shirt and bra, which now lay wet and sticky against my skin. Their hands grab at me to keep me upright but linger longer than necessary as they apologize in slurred speech without a single look of apology on any of their faces—just mocking smiles and wandering hands.

Paul, their department lead, even has the balls to run his hand along the curve of my ass while locking eyes with me. My gut gurgles with unease, and every alarm bell in my body is blaring at full volume to get as far away from him as possible.

“What the fuck!” I shout, pushing their hands away and taking a step back. “Don’t fucking touch me!” I spit. My tone is vicious, slicing through the room as I glare at the four of them, and like a gift from the universe, a delicious thought crosses my mind. I know logically I shouldn’t be mad at Mitch, but who’s going to stop me from taking all of my anger and frustrations out on these motherfuckers.

To be fair he groped me first. That’s assault. And I’m nothing if not prone to fight fire with fire.

My chest heaves with anger, fueling the fire burning inside me, and I go against my better judgment and allow it to engulf me completely. I let the anger spread like wildfire through every nerve and every muscle, ready to let it consume me with no regard for the consequences.

If Mitch really invited me to this party to make me feel like shit, he’s going to have to drag me out of here with blood on my teeth and flesh under my fingernails. At this moment, nothing else exists but them and me and a lifetime of pent-up aggression.

Their eyes drop to my chest, where the thin fabric of my shirt clings to the curve of my tits, leaving very little up to the imagination. The spark in their eyes is all it takes for my hands to ball into tight fists and let loose with all my might, just barely missing Paul’s five o’clock shadow as my body is rocked backward by a pair of strong arms around my waist.

In one swift motion, I’m lifted up and away from my warpath. I whirl around, hoping to see Mitch had come to my aid, forgiving me for being such a colossal bitch this week, but it’s Ian’s emerald eyes looking down at me instead.

My body has an immediate visceral reaction to his hands on me, and I struggle to break free of his firm grip.

“Let me go, Ian! I can take care of myself,” I bark, struggling against his hold.

“Calm down,” Ian’s voice is a commanding whisper. It’s the most emotion he’s ever given me in the six months I’ve known him. “I have no doubt you can take down all four of them, but how about not eliminating the entire stocking department before Mitch's first shift as Manager.”

I go still in his arms as his eyes bore into me, immediately smothering the fire on the inside.

Mitch.

Fuck.

I try to relax my fists and unclench my jaw, but it’s useless. The fire may be gone, but the anger coursing through my veins is a living entity. It’s been there as long as I can remember, and it has no intention of hibernating quietly. It never does.

Ian’s hands slide up to my forearms as if he’s afraid I’ll lunge for the four assholes the moment he lets go. He’s not wrong. The thought of laying out even one of them is egregiously appealing, but I can’t bring myself to do that to Mitch. He deserves better than my emotional outbursts. He deserves better than me.

I clench my jaw tighter and huff out a growl, “Fine.” I pull my arms from his now lax grip and make a beeline for the kitchen, adjusting my cross-body purse higher up my shoulder.

Mitch is leaning up against the counter, pouring a concoction of alcohol into his red Solo cup.

“Hey,” I say, stopping just short of him. I have to get out of here now if I want to keep my sanity and the asshole's jaws intact, and I know if I’m in reaching distance, his touch will root me to this very spot.

“Roxy!” Mitch bellows, catching me off guard, and launches himself forward, closing the distance and pulling me into his arms. He lifts me off the ground in a bear hug, instantly making my heart feel whole again.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

I breathe in the scent of his cologne, and my heartbeat quickens as I melt into his embrace, wrapping my arms around his neck and burying my face in him. How much I’ve missed him this week hits me all at once, and it’s clear now how much I hate every moment I’m not in his arms.

"God, it’s so good to see you,” he says, setting me back onto my feet, his arms draped possessively around me. “When the fuck did you get here, babe?"

A sickening jolt ricochets through my entire body, and I shrug his arm off and step back. It takes a moment for the words to manifest from the depths of my gut to my lips, "What do you mean? Mitch, I've been here...for like an hour."

“What? No way,” he says, stumbling into the counter, no longer having me as an anchor point. Ian appears and grips his shoulder to keep him from toppling over.

I shoot Ian a death glare before refocusing on Mitch with clarity, “How fucked are you right now?” I say quickly with concern.

Mitch takes a stumbling step toward me, lets out a huff of a laugh, and claps his hands on both of my cheeks, leaving a slight burn under his palm, and my traitorous pussy clenches in response.

“I’m about as fucked as you’re going to be tonight,” he whispers, then pulls my face in and plants a kiss that is so deep thatI almost give in to anything he says. But I can taste the liquor on his breath, and with great willpower, I push him back, my hands on his chest.

“You taste like a distillery,” I say, not wanting to be a buzzkill but entirely too concerned for his health. “You smell like one, too.”

Mitch laughs and pokes a finger at the tip of my nose. “Lots to celebrate, Hunny Bun. I’ve been such a good boy,” He slurs.

I huff out a frustrated breath and look at Ian, who’s not as drunk as Mitch but might as well have a giant neon sign on his forehead that glows ENABLER.

“This is your fault,” I say to Ian, pointing a finger at Mitch.

“My fault?” Ian barks with wide eyes and a hint of a smile. “How is it my fault?”

“You let him drink way too much,” I yell incredulously.

“He’s a grown-ass man, Roxy,” Ian says, a stupid smile lingering on his lips. “Besides, it’s his party. It's not like he has to drive anywhere. I’m not his fucking father.”

“Aww, Daddy,” Mitch purrs at Ian with a smile full of debauchery.

“Gross,” Ian scoffs, shaking his head.

How they look at each other makes me feel like I’m interrupting an intimate moment. An outsider looking in at everything I’ve always searched for but never found. A cold sadness creeps under my skin before morphing into anger. Like my body refuses to accept any other emotion and boils everything I ever feel down until all that’s left is wrath.

“Well, I’m heading out, but you two have fun.”

“Wait! Don’t go!” Mitch yelps, grabbing my wrist as I turn to make my way to the door.

“Mitch,” I start to plead, but his grip on my wrist tightens, and he yanks me closer.

“I want you to stay with me,” he whispers onto my lips, his glossy eyes pleading. “Please stay. I want to show you how much I’ve missed you.” His voice is low and full of whispered longing. He tilts my chin up and places his forehead on mine, his hand snaking down to grip my ass under my skirt, his fingers coming dangerously close to finding out how much I don’t actually want to leave.

I hesitate, my strongest instinct yelling at me to run, but it’s impossible to say no to him. His big, hopeful eyes are as open and earnest as a golden retriever’s. There’s no ulterior motives, no game—just raw, unabashed affection that feels too honest for me to handle. I’m so used to seeing the worst in people that I forget Mitch is one of the good ones. I let out a sigh of defeat and lean into his embrace.

“I missed you too,” I whisper back, feeling the weight of my words settle in my chest.

His grip on my jaw turns possessive, and I surrender to the moment, my heart pounding with the guilt still lingering in my chest.

“Don’t you ever do that to me again,” he growls, his voice raw and gritty. His hand drops from my chin to palm my throat. “Don’t you ever fucking hide from me.”

A shiver runs down my spine with the intensity of his glare. “I’m sorry. I’m…” The sentence stalls on my lips because I honestly don’t know how to finish it. I’m what? Broken. Petty. Grumpy. Bitchy. A scared pessimistic cunt who is unworthy of a morsel of affection from a man who has given me no reason to feel this small. I am all those things, so I settle with being a broken record, “…I’m sorry.”

“How sorry are you?” Mitch asks as he slides the hand from my ass around my hip and up my inner thigh. A smirk forms on his lips, dark and salacious. My stomach bursts into butterflies that sink straight between my thighs where his finger is lightly tracing the crease of my pussy through the thin fabric of my underwear.

“Mitch,” my breath hitches as my eyes dart around the room full of people, unaware that Mitch is practically fingering me in the middle of his party.

Of all the guests minding their own business, Ian is the only one with his attention on us. His eyes dipped low to where Mitch’s hand disappears under my skirt. His expression is hard to read, but he doesn’t look as disgusted as I felt watching them from across the room.

“What do we have here? You did miss me,” Mitch mutters as he circles the damp fabric over my clit. “You’re so wet for me already.” I bite my bottom lip and dig my hands into his shoulders, pulling him closer. “I can make you cum right here in the middle of my fucking kitchen. Surrounded by all these people who have no idea how much of a slut you are for me.”

Without warning, his grip on my throat tightens, and he yanks my panties to the side and steps into me, sliding his fingers around my slick clit. An involuntary gasp escapes my throat as he pushes two fingers inside of me.

“Jesus fuck,” he growls as his fingers glide in with ease. “So. Fucking. Wet.” He grunts, thrusting his fingers in and out of me as if punctuating each word. “I can’t wait to punish you for hiding from me this week. I have half a mind to bend you over this counter and fuck you right here while everyone watches,” he whispers, his voice like velvet wrapped around barbed wire.

The thought sends a jolt to my core, and a smile stretches across his face as my pussy clenches around his fingers.

“Of course, you’d fucking like that,” he laughs, knowing me all too well. He leans in, his lips brushing against my ear. “Don’t worry, I’ll behave. There’s no way I’m okay with letting these assholes hear your whimpers and the desperation in your voice when you scream my name. Although, if you’re quiet, no one will know but you and me.”

Mitch curls his fingers inside me, hitting that sweet spot that hitches my breath. I can feel an orgasm building in me, like a tidal wave ready to crash down. I grip his shirt for dear life as I stifle every moan that begs to escape my body.

Feeling his eyes on me, I look over to find Ian still watching. Mitch follows my gaze, a smirk pulling at his lips. “Well…and Ian, of course.”

Mitch looks back at me, and there’s a glint in his eyes that wasn’t there before. An idea was born in the moment it took him to look from me to Ian and then back again, turning his smile into a devilish smirk.

His fingers pause inside me before he pulls his hand from under my skirt, and I groan in protest, “UGH! You asshole.” I whine, my pussy empty and begging for release.

He takes his arousal-soaked hand and grips Ian’s shirt into a tight fist, pulling him to stand beside me. Our shoulders bump against each other, and I look up at Ian, but his eyes are hard focused on Mitch. Having him so close to me when Mitch has done a bang-up job getting me all hot and bothered is both pissing me off and making me question the heat that continues to pool in my center.

"I have something I want,” Mitch slurs, looking between us, his hand lowering from my neck to settle over the top of my chest. “And it’s something you’re both going to give me because I have been a very good boy.”

My insides swirl as I prepare for the inevitable conversation about the love triangle that’s thrown a wrench in our lives. It’s clear now that Mitch wants both of us to remain in contact with his dick, so it’s only fair to discuss the logistics of how this is going to work out.

If it works out. I’m not entirely convinced yet.

Mitch centers himself with us; the sadistic smirk on his face tells me all I need to know about how much he’s enjoying this.

“As you know, I've been inside both of you," Mitch says as if he’s stating a matter of fact.

"Oh, God," I whine with a grimace. At the same time, Ian asks, "Did you have to phrase it like that?" with an amused distaste.

"Shhhhh, my turn," Mitch says with a chuckle, placing fingers over our lips to shut us up. It is rather effective. "I've been inside both of you emotionally and physically, and tonight, I want to bring you both…inside of me…together."

Mitch’s words hang in the air like a filthy dare, and the room spins as I attempt to process his request. Even through the odd way his beautiful, inebriated brain is putting together these absurd thoughts, it’s not hard to interpret what he means.

My heart skips a beat as the air in the room suddenly weighs down on my shoulders. A different kind of heat engulfs my body. A smothering heat that makes it hard to breathe and sends pools of sweat dripping down my back. Every ounce of arousal I was feeling a moment ago has disintegrated and morphed into pure, unadulterated anxiety.

"Mitch…now is not a good time for this," Ian says almost hesitantly as if they’ve already discussed it. “You’re drunk.”

My eyes dart between them, trying desperately to understand. Have they already talked about this?

"Now is a great fucking time," Mitch replies with an exaggerated nod. “I know what I want, and I want both of you.” His voice is low, husky, and dripping with determination. “Also, I’ll have you both know that I am fully prepared to be insufferable about this until I get my way.”

I can’t help but let out a short nervous laugh as my heart stops dead in my chest, and I realize Mitch is dead fucking serious. When Mitch is serious, he always gets what he wants.