Page 33 of The Toy Maker (The Pink Cherrie #1)

TWENTY-EIGHT

My mother used to tell me that a watched pot never boils, but if you were half as stubborn as I was, you would know that it eventually does boil, so slowly that it’s almost painful.

I was experiencing the same phenomena with inevitable frustration taking over my thoughts; having the undivided attention of a hot guy being ripped away from you twice in one day would make anyone lose their cool.

By the time Candace, the first friendly face I had met at the club, appeared with a fresh pair of folded clothes, I had become silently resigned, not even bothering to grab my phone and purse from the girls when I left because I wasn’t in the mood to explain my absence.

I did manage a weak wave so they didn’t call the police or rig a bat call with the chandelier and bras tied together.

But after a long, reflective walk to my apartment across town, anger had settled deep in my chest.

I had spent the entire walk replaying everything in my head: Jason’s hands on me, his voice in my ear, the way he made me feel wanted, owned, only to leave me behind like I didn’t matter.

Twice.

I clenched my jaw as I climbed the steps to my building. The moment I reached my door, I knocked hard.

“Mom!”

Silence.

I sighed, hoping she hadn’t turned on her ocean wave sound machine to drown out the city noise.

When no one answered, I twisted the knob, surprised to find it already open. I frowned. The lock had been getting weaker and weaker, and if you didn’t know about it, the door never fully shut.

I crept inside, the vanilla air freshener I kept plugged in to mask the old smell of the building filling my nose.

“Mom?” I whispered before flicking the light switch.

The living room was exactly as I had left it: pillows neatly arranged, a half-empty mug on the coffee table, the smell of coffee in the air. My gaze flicked to the clock beside the TV. It was much later than midnight.

My eyes landed on the closed guest-room door and came to the conclusion that she had already smeared on her night cream and didn’t bother waiting up.

Another sigh slipped past my lips as exhaustion crashed over me.

I barely made it to my bed before my legs gave out. Every inch of me ached as I kicked off my heels, the sting of the night still fresh on my skin. The dress hit the floor next, pooling at my feet as I collapsed onto the mattress.

I spent the next five minutes mentally writing out the speech that would set Jason’s ears on fire.

I was done being toyed with, done being left behind like an afterthought.

Next time, he wouldn’t get away with it so easily.

I imagined standing in front of him, arms crossed.

“Do you enjoy making me feel like I don’t matter?”

The words would cut straight through him, leaving no room for excuses.

“You pull me into your world, make me crave you, make me trust you—only to walk away like I’m nothing. Like I’m just some game you can pick up and drop whenever it suits you.”

I could picture his expression, the way his lips might part, maybe to argue, maybe to deflect. But I wouldn’t let him.

“Twice, Jason. Twice in one day you left me stranded, aching, waiting for you to finish whatever was so much more important than me. And you didn’t even have the decency to explain. You just walked away.”

The memory of it sent a fresh wave of irritation through me. My fingers curled into the sheets.

“If I don’t mean anything to you, then fine. Say it. Say that I’m just some whore you use and discard. At least that would be honest. But don’t act like I belong to you when you clearly don’t give a damn about what that means.”

I could almost hear the silence that would follow, the weight of my anger settling between us.

Would he apologize? Would he even care?

The thought of him brushing me off again made my blood simmer.

“I deserve better than this. Better than you, if this is all you can offer.”

I would turn to leave, daring him to stop me.

Daring him to prove that I was wrong.

The alarm clock disturbed my shallow, restless sleep. My body ached, tense and sore from the day prior. I wanted to roll back over and call out of work, but the moment I remembered why I was so pissed off, my eyes snapped open.

Cold air bit at my bare skin as I shoved the blankets aside and stumbled toward the bathroom. The flickering yellow lights made me wince, and I took a few sluggish moments to splash cold water on my face, letting it chase away the last traces of sleep.

Clothes. I needed clothes.

I grabbed the first things I could find, jeans, a wrinkled hoodie, mismatched socks. There was no time to care about looking put-together. I was on a mission.

Ditch me once, shame on you. Ditch me twice, and you’re dead to me.

The thought burned in my mind as I stuffed a handful of cereal into my mouth and half-jogged to the door. Balancing my shoes in one hand, I hopped down the stairs, trying to shove them on as I went.

My mother always told me I needed to deal with my abandonment issues or else they’d eat away at my common sense.

Maybe she had a point.

Because I was about to storm into that damn building half-cocked, ready to tear Jason a new one.

The moment I stepped through the entrance of Pink Cherrie, I didn’t even get the chance to make it far before I was intercepted. The zombie at the front desk barely glanced up before greeting me in the most welcoming way possible.

“Morning, queen whore,” Jade said.

Holy shit, did I get a promotion?

Before I could reply, Sarah’s wild head popped up from under the desk. Her hair stuck out in every direction, her eyes glassy and unfocused. I decided not to ask what the hell she’d been doing under there.

I eyed them both, their makeup smudged, their clothes wrinkled, the telltale signs of another wild night.

“Hey, guys,” I greeted, adjusting my crooked hoodie. “I take it you had a good time.”

Jade snorted. “We didn’t ride random cock, if that’s what you mean.” Jade side-eyed Sarah and rolled her eyes. “Well, I didn’t.”

Sarah made a sound that was half a moan, half a drunken slur.

I sighed. Today was going to be a lot .

As I took in the disheveled state of the room—and the even more disheveled people inside it—I realized someone was missing.

“Is Kitty hiding under that desk too?” I asked, glancing toward Sarah, who still looked half-dead.

Apparently, I’d said something hilarious because Jade looked like she was fighting back laughter. If she wasn’t so hungover, I was sure she would’ve burst out cackling.

“Last time we saw her, she was swinging from the rooftops,” she said, rubbing her temples. “Creamy Pussy really goes to her head.”

I really hoped she was talking about a drink.

“So…” I raised an eyebrow. “She could be roaming the streets right now?”

“Nah, we called the fun police on her.” Before I could ask her anything else, she began to reverse the line of questioning. “Besides,” she said, crossing her arms, “I’m more interested in who your little ass got off with last night.”

Her muddy brown eyes locked onto me like a hunter zeroing in on prey. I never realized how intimidating she could be when she was focused on prying secrets out of people.

I stiffened. “I didn’t fuck anyone.” Although I wanted to.

Jade continued to stare me into the ground. “Why’d you leave in a hurry then?”

“Emergency,” I tried, offering a lame shrug of my shoulder. “My mom fell off the, uh, toilet. Nearly broke her stapes.”

“Isn’t that in the ear?” She gave me a disbelieving look.

“Exactly why it was so crucial that I left immediately.”

Jade stared at me, her bullshit detector working overtime.

Eventually, she let out a slow breath and rolled her eyes. “Whatever.” Just when I thought I was in the clear, she muttered under her breath, “Clearly, he didn’t screw the stupid out of you.”

I stalked past her, biting my tongue to keep from revealing the truth.

If I didn’t have bigger things to deal with, I would’ve had a great comeback about her stained dress and tangled hair.

But I had someone else to confront. And Jason was not going to like what I had to say.

I marched straight to his door, my heart hammering in my chest as I raised my hand and knocked loudly. I wasn’t leaving without answers.

A few seconds passed. Then, I heard movement inside and muffled voices. I froze, leaning closer, straining to hear. There was a woman’s voice.

My stomach twisted, jealousy settling in like a slow-burning fire. He already has another girl in there? I shouldn’t have cared so much. I shouldn’t have felt a sting of betrayal tightening around my ribs. But I did.

Before I could make out the conversation, the door swung open, and I was caught practically pressed against the wood like a desperate stalker.

I jerked back, straightening my spine and trying to regain whatever confidence I had left.

Jason stood in the doorway, shirtless, his dark hair slightly messy from sleeping. His sharp eyes flicked over me.

“It’s early, Tara,” he sighed. The way he said my name, like I was an annoyance, an obligation, only made my irritation spike.

I fidgeted with my sleeve and tried to remember my opening line. “Listen jerkoff,”—definitely not what I had planned, but I would have to roll with it—“you can’t just tie a girl up with the promise of an orgasm that would make porn stars jealous and then just skip out the fucking room?—”

“Tara,” Jason tried to cut me off, but I refused to back down.

“Oh, shut up for a minute, would you?” My words came out in a rush, anger bubbling over. “That kind of torture is rude on so many levels, and I don’t know how you were raised or if this is just another one of your sadistic little games, but?—”

Jason’s hand clamped over my mouth. I muffled a few swears against his palm, glaring up at him. I darted my tongue over it in defiance.

He yanked his hand away, his eyes narrowing. “Did you really just fucking lick me?”

I lifted my chin. “What about it?” I challenged.

He pulled the door shut and joined me in the narrow hallway. Now we were alone. Our bodies were only inches away from each other. I tried not to notice the heat radiating off his skin, or the way his muscles flexed when he crossed his arms.

“You’re a childish piece of work, you know that?” he snapped.

“And you’re a crafty son of a bitch.” I began another rant that had no foreseeable end before Jason slammed his hand back over my mouth.

“Lick me all you want,” Jason said, his voice darkening, “but that won’t change the fact that if you keep being so fucking loud, I will throw you over my shoulder, drag you out of this building in front of everyone, take you back to the dungeon, and whip your ass until you won’t be able to do anything but beg for me to stop. Is that what you want?”

A shiver ran down my spine. I hated how my body reacted to his threats.

I glared at him, imagining all the ways I could kill him and get away with it.

Jason held my gaze for a long moment before exhaling. “I’m going to move my hand. If you don’t keep your mouth shut, you’ll regret it.” Slowly, he peeled his hand away.

He then went on to explain why he had to leave, but both explanations were pitiful.

“My mom isn’t very understanding when it comes to my sister, and if she found out what happened, then it would have been a mess,” he said warily.

“Uh-huh,” I snapped, unimpressed. “And the girl?”

His jaw tensed slightly. “Anna is a family friend.”

“Not her.” I frowned. “The one in your room.” I nodded toward the door.

Jason’s gaze flickered back to it. A little too quickly.

“I had to bring my sister here last night,” he said.

Sounds like polished bullshit. Jason sighed, clearly frustrated. But I barely heard it. My attention had dipped lower, to his sculpted chest, the way his low-cut pajama pants hung on his hips.

“I take it by your eye-fucking that you’re not going to verbally attack me again.”

The day was still early; I tried to pry my attention away from his body. “Fine.” I conceded to his pathetic reasoning for selfish reasons.

“Good, because you’ve been bad.” He smirked and slowly backed me further down the hall. “I want you to face the wall and raise your skirt.”

My eyes widened at the sudden command. “For what?” I sputtered.

“For one, you called me a jerkoff,” he chuckled. “But you also kept interrupting me.”

I wasn’t willing to argue and risk being paraded in front of Jade and Sarah. The last thing I needed was an audience. Although the idea did spark a sick pleasure inside me. I swallowed down my pride and turned my back to him, lifting my skirt.

“Hands on the wall, Tara,” Jason instructed, deeply amused by my submission.

My heart threatened to jump out of my chest when he pulled my panties to the side, and my skin prickled with anticipation.

“Don’t forget what will happen if you’re too loud.”