Page 17 of These Wicked Games (Wicked Sins #1)

Stepping under the water, I let go of everything that pisses me off. This game was sloppy but tomorrow’s another day. I’m just caught off guard by all this bullshit. It doesn’t have to matter. Andre’s a goalie, which means as long as he does his fucking job I shouldn’t have to talk to him much.

Putting my face in the water, I stand under it for a minute, letting the warmth just shut my brain off. Going out tonight will be fun, it’ll be good for me. Ryker’s always a good time, and maybe I’ll meet up with someone .

Despite its reputation, The Charm Box is a safe place for anyone famous to let loose.

NDAs are mandatory at the door. No weapons of any kind allowed.

Yes, it has mafia ties, but the place is neutral ground, and anyone caught breaking that peace would have to answer to Dimitri Morozov, and no one answers to him and lives to talk about it.

Allegedly.

Opening my eyes, I nearly jolt when I see who’s currently occupying the shower next to me. Andre turns on the water, not looking at me, thank god. It hits me now, that I’ll have to fucking deal with this pretty much every day.

I swallow, watching him. Water slides over his skin making it glisten a bit.

He’s not as bulky as I am, but a lot fitter than most. My eyes travel up every ridge of his abs to his nipples, watching his large hands soap up his chest. My throat works with a swallow.

My eyes have a mind of their own, gliding over every inch of his chest until they lift to meet his hazel eyes looking right at me.

Fuck.

Snapping my gaze away, I focus on finishing up and getting the hell out of here as fast as possible. “What’s wrong, Kuli? Having some big emotions?” he laughs.

“Disgust and rage are emotions, so yes.”

“So that’s rage chub?”

My eyes whip to his then look down at my half-hard dick. “Violence turns me on,” I mutter, rinsing my hair. “I was thinking of breaking your nose.”

“Uh-huh, sure thing, Oli.” How bad would it be if I beat his ass right here and now, naked and wet and all? Okay, what the fuck . My dick perks up, and I turn away from him. It’s clearly broken .

Maybe violence does make me hard.

Okay, I need to get laid.

I shut off my shower and grab my towel, not sparing him another glance. Even though I don’t look at him, I can still see him. In my mind. Hot, naked, wet. My dick thickens.

Yes. Definitely broken.

What the fuck is wrong with me.

Grabbing my drink, I try desperately to get into this.

I thought a night out would be great for my mind, but I was wrong.

So wrong. This isn’t my thing, no matter how hard I try to drink myself into thinking it could be.

Dive bars with my best friends are more my speed.

While this club isn’t as loud as The Treasure House, it’s no less suffocating.

“Oh my god.” Ryker grins, kissing the girl currently trying to take as many clothes off as possible with both her hands preoccupied in Ryker’s hair.

It’s impressive, honestly. I think she’s a dancer here.

He picks her up, her thick red hair flipping as he hoists her onto his lap.

She laughs, a soft thrilled sound as he dives for her throat.

I grip my drink in my hand, wondering where Atlas went off to, but I haven’t seen him since he was whisked away by a brunette after we sat down.

Something was a bit off with him as well.

Maybe it was Andre’s words back in the locker room .

“Do you guys need another round?” A lithe bartender cocks a brow, looking at Ryker and rolling his eyes. “Good thing you guys have great medical care,” he says. “The STD panels must be astounding.”

Ryker gently moves the redhead off his lap. “Hey! I always use a condom.” He looks back at the woman. “I do. All clear, baby.” She grins, going back for his throat.

“Oh, good,” the man deadpans. “Now I can sleep at night.” Rolling his eyes again, he looks at me. “What about you, sugar? You want another drink, or do you want to keep watching your friend have more fun than you are?” Ryker’s eyes narrow on him.

“Excuse me, who the fuck do you think you are? Don’t talk to us like that. I’m not doing anything anyone else in here isn’t doing.”

The man sighs, ignoring him. “What will it be?” he asks me.

“Uh . . .” I look at Ryker, who’s eyes are hard on the man.

He looks young, almost too young to be working in a club like this.

He’s slim, with shaggy pink hair, and his gray eyes shine behind the silver and pink eye shadow he’s wearing.

His lips pop with a shine of pink as well.

Fake freckles decorate his cheeks and the bridge of his nose, standing out against his fair skin.

He’s wearing a shimmering white top connected by what looks to be diamond strings down his sides, the sharp lines of his stomach visible, and his tight black pants hug his body.

I turn my attention back to my friend, whose eyes are scrutinizing this man.

“Today, fellas. Believe it or not I have other people to tend to.”

“You’re kind of rude.” Ryker’s eyes narrow more.

“And you’re kind of a slut.” The man winks, going back to his pad. “Today, boys.”

“Give me another vodka soda.”

“Great. And you?” He flutters his lashes at Ryker. “What will you have? A shot of penicillin?”

“A different server.”

“Oh, fresh out, baby. Try again.”

He grinds his teeth. “What is your name? I want to speak to whoever’s in charge.”

“Oh, well, my name is Lukas, and if you want to speak to Dimitri’s son, I can do that, but uh . . . I wouldn’t want to bother him. He’s also my best friend and probably just as tired of you fucking his dancers as I am.”

“Lukas, stop please.” The redhead pouts. “I’m fine, okay?”

“Kenji Morozov?” I ask. Shit, okay, I was joking about this being a mafia-run place, but if Kenji Morozov is in charge, then the rumors have to be true.

Dimitri’s son has quite the reputation. “Ryker, give it up. Your date is getting cold.” I look to the redhead, who’s pouting.

She touches his tattooed chest, pulling his attention back to her, and Ryker gives Lukas one more once over before shaking his head.

“Asshole.”

Lukas scoffs. “I’ll be right back with your drink.” He moves away with the grace of a cat.

“I don’t know what the fuck his problem is.” Ryker’s attention lands back on the woman, kissing her neck. Okay, I need to do something else. Ryker looks up at me as I get up. “Where you going?”

“As much as I love watching you make out with this beautiful woman, I’m going to find something to do.” Or someone .

“Wear protection!” he calls out as I walk to the bar. My eyes land on Lukas making a drink, and I sit down at one of the empty bar stools near him. He looks up.

“Oh, I was coming,” he says, with none of that fire he had at our table. “I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s fine. I needed a change of scenery.”

“Not having fun watching your friend?”

I laugh, thanking him as he slides the glass to me. “Why were you being a dick?”

Lukas studies the bar, shaking his head.

It’s now I see a tiny jeweled headband in his hair.

“I’m tired of seeing him fuck anything that moves.

Guys like him don’t give anyone a second thought.

” I want to correct him. Ryker is nothing if not a caring dude, but I understand where Lukas is coming from.

“He’s fucked a few of the dancers here, promising them glorious things only to leave without a second thought.

I’m tired of mending broken hearts.” He points at the redhead, now topless, Ryker’s mouth firmly locked around her breast. “That’s Yvette.

I’m already preparing the ‘you can do better’ speech.

” Lukas rolls his eyes. “Just hate guys like that. Anyway. You have a fun night.” He winks, leaving me with my drink.

I turn on my seat, looking over the club.

It’s decorated in deep reds and blacks and looks like a Victorian vampire lair.

While not a queer club, it is definitely queer friendly.

Since Kenji Morozov, Dimitri’s son, is pansexual, I know no one would dare be homophobic in here. Not if they want to survive the night.

While I’d rather be home in bed, it’s actually not a bad place.

The music isn’t deafening. The vibe is chic and classy.

There are poles placed around the club, and one stage that has two bigger poles with dancers—men and women.

Soft, deep, black and red couches are placed throughout.

There are rooms for privacy, one-way-mirror rooms for private dances, and sections of the club that are dark enough no one can see what’s going on in those corners.

It smells sweet, like smoke, not cloying like the nightclub Monica took us to.

“Hey there, handsome.” I hear a soft feminine voice to my right.

A beautiful woman with a short black bob smiles in my direction.

“Can I buy your next one?” Slowly, with the indulgence of a tiger cornering prey, she leans against the bar.

Okay, pretty, very fucking pretty, with striking brown eyes and a sexy red smile. This is what I need. Right here.

I reach for her hand, she slips hers into mine.

Her rich brown skin shimmers with whatever body glitter she has on, and warm vanilla takes up the space between us.

I’m held here in place by those eyes, prettier than the night sky above.

I kiss her hand, my eyes not leaving hers.

“How about I buy you one, sweetheart?” She smiles wider.

“Sweetheart?” she scoffs. “Baby, there’s nothin’ sweet about me.”

My eyes do a slow crawl over her body. She’s stunning, curvy, beautiful. Great tits, and hips I can hold on to while I’m fucking her. “Oh, I bet there’s some things that are very, very sweet.” She grins wide, displaying white teeth.

“I’ll have what you’re having,” she purrs. I look for Lukas but he’s down the bar, so I flag another bartender, asking for a vodka soda.