Promiscuous (3 page)

He’s worried about me?
I snorted.
Fuck you, Coop
. And how the hell did he know I wasn’t at home? Was he following me now? Anger boiled up inside me as I slammed my fist down on the white marble surface.

Ignoring the pain shooting through my wrist, I shut off the phone and shoved it back in my purse, trying to pretend his words hadn’t affected me. But they had. They always did. I felt the tears welling up, but I tossed back those emotions. I refused to cry. I needed to feel
nothing
, because the moment I opened that door and let myself grieve, I wasn’t sure how I would go on.

The last time we’d spoken had been almost two months ago now, and since then, every day he’d sent a message or tried to call. But I just couldn’t handle it. I couldn’t
be
his friend. Not right now. Why the hell hadn’t he gotten the message?

***

I splashed water on my face, the cold snapping me back to the present. Taking a deep breath, I ran a sheet of paper towel over my cheeks and walked back into the club, moving through the masses of bodies back to Blondie.

The Marz Bar was where you hung out to be seen. Full of stars and wannabes, it was a place that would definitely get you noticed. This place crawled with paparazzi just waiting for the shot that would push them into the big league. Not surprisingly, I had a trail of them following the blonde and me as she led me into the VIP area at the back of the club.

Two tall and muscly security men stood guarding the entrance. Both wore a menacing expression, which made me confident that there was no chance of anyone who shouldn’t be here sneaking through. I eyed the men as Blondie led me past them. The giant bear on the right gave me a sly grin, so I dropped my gaze to his crotch and licked my lips. He shuffled uncomfortably, which made me giggle. Men were so damn easy.

What exactly was I doing? No idea. I was more than slightly sloshed, and a little bit horny. As I said, women usually weren’t my thing, but the way Blondie’s tight, black dress was riding up her perky little ass was making me frisky. Alcohol gave me a glimpse of the old Beth. I can’t explain the relief, knowing she was still in there . . . somewhere.

Inside the VIP area, Blondie pushed me up against the wall, her hands cupping my breasts as she began to lick my neck.

“You feel like a little fun?” she muttered, her lips working their way down beneath the thin fabric of my low-cut dress. I smiled, moaning in response. She led me down the hall and into an empty room. My eyes darted from the leather sofa that lay against the back wall to the private bar in the corner and back to Blondie, who was grinding herself against me.

I didn’t see him at first. I was too busy trying to tug that damn dress off her.

My first realization that we weren’t alone was when I felt him—behind me. His hands ran over the curves of my hips. I jumped back, my body pressing into his. I should’ve been scared—hell, this whole situation should have terrified me—but there was something calming about his presence and the way he was touching me. I stepped back further, the alcohol driving my confidence as I began to grind my hips into his crotch.

“You did well, Scarlett. Very well,” he murmured in my ear as he hardened against my ass. His voice was deep and smooth like the finest chocolate. The blonde began to smile, enjoying the praise. She lifted her dress over her shoulders and let it fall to the floor, then undid her bra, her rounded breasts bouncing out of containment. I eyed her, my mouth drying up as a familiar feeling stirred in my stomach. I know I said I wasn’t into chicks, but God help me, if I were . . .

Slowly, he turned me around. This whole experience was beginning to get
very
hot very fast, and was exactly what I needed. I’d come here tonight looking for something, and I was convinced this was it.

His arm slipped around my waist as I looked up into the deepest pair of brown eyes I’d ever seen. They almost looked as though they were melting. Or maybe I was melting into him.

He was quite possibly one of the most attractive men I’d ever seen, albeit a little older than the boys I was used to playing with. Coop had been twenty-five, but this guy had to be in his mid thirties—almost twice my age. But his age had no effect on how attractive I found him.

That dark hair—cropped short, but still with the slightest wave to it—and the way his lip curved up on one side when he looked at me made me wet. His tie was loosened with the top two buttons of his white shirt undone, and his charcoal pants did nothing to hide how well equipped he was, especially in his excited state. My head began to spin as I inhaled his scent, musky and sweet. I just wanted to lick him . . . among other things.

My heart began to race as his fingers traced my hairline, then down my neck and over my collarbone. They stopped just short of my chest, waiting, as his gaze burned into me. There was something so confident about this man . . .
He’s irresistible
.

I knew nothing about him, yet I
needed
him. He was the key to allowing me to forget, at least for one night. I needed to use him to erase the hounding thoughts in my head.

Blondie pressed up against me and I jumped again. Disappointment rushed through me as I remembered we weren’t alone. I’d forgotten about her. 

I tilted my neck as she kissed me, my eyes never leaving his. He nodded at Blondie, who walked around in front of me as he sat down, his leg crossing over his knee, his arms stretched out over the back of the sofa.

“He wants to watch us,” she whispered in my ear, her hands roaming underneath the hem of my dress, riding it up.

Hell, I’ll give this guy whatever he wants.

I turned toward her and lifted my lips to hers. We kissed, her mouth pressed against mine, the softness of her skin so sexy and unusual. It felt so erotic making out with another girl. Kissing a guy was always so rough and raw. There was none of that here; it was all gentle and slow. Oddly, I found it just as arousing.

Unzipping the back of my dress, I lifted it over my head as Scarlett sat down on the plush leather sofa opposite him. He was looking at me as my dress fell to the hardwood floor in a heap. From either the cool breeze sneaking through the open window, or under his gaze, I began to shiver. My nipples ached against the constriction of my bra. I longed to give myself to this man. I wanted his mouth on every inch of my body. Moving toward Scarlett, I stumbled over my heels.

She held out her hand to steady me as I sat down on her lap, one leg either side so I was straddling her, giving him a perfect view of my ass. My back was to him, but I could feel his eyes burning into me.

Scarlett lifted her arms around my neck and pulled me down to her, our lips entangling in a deep, slow kiss. With one hand holding the back of my neck, the other began to trail down my body. I moaned as her fingers moved over my strapless black bra and down past my stomach, finally resting on the damp lace fabric between my legs. I was wet. So wet. I never thought I could be this turned on by another woman, but she was beautiful, and doing this with her in front of him was almost enough to make me lose control.

I breathed in sharply as her fingers thrust inside of me, pushing aside my thong like it had no business being there. My grip on her shoulders tightened as she explored me so intimately, her eyes flashing with excitement and determination, like my pleasure was her only goal.

I moaned softly, my body jerking to the rhythm of her fingers, desperate for more of her, as much as she would give me. For a moment I almost forgot about him, but then the memory of those insanely sexy brown eyes came flooding back to me like a giant wave crashing over a bed of rocks.

“How does she feel, Scarlett? Is she wet for you?” His deep voice cut through me.

Scarlett nodded, her fingers continuing to thrust inside me as she held my gaze.

“She’s wet. She’s very wet. And so soft, too.” She bit her lip as she pulled me in for another kiss. A little whimper escaped from me, and all I could do was try my hardest not to scream in ecstasy as this tiny little blonde beauty with perfect little breasts finger-fucked me out of this planet with one of the hottest men I’d ever seen looking on.

Was he palming himself as he watched us? The thought of him sitting there fisting his hard cock as he watched her fingers move in and out of me had me ready to explode. I couldn’t hold on much longer, no matter how badly I wanted this feeling to last forever.

And then it happened. I began to orgasm. A strangled cry escaped from my lips as I wrapped my arms around her neck, my pussy begging her fingers to delve deeper.

“Keep going, yes,” I cried as her fingers circled around my clit. I wanted more, and I needed her to stop. I couldn’t handle it, but oh God, how I
needed
it. Clenching my thighs, I forced her to finish, every part of me throbbing, aching.

Holy fuck, that was incredible. I fell onto my back, my head resting on the arm of the sofa, and my legs sprawled out over Scarlett. I met his gaze. His eyes burned into mine, a look of longing etched across his beautiful face. My eyes traveled downward to the huge bulge in his pants. I was surprised. He’d sat there that entire time and not gotten himself off.

I smiled lazily at him as Scarlett’s fingers trailed over my legs, the pressure of her nails on my skin almost bringing me to another orgasm. He watched me intensely as I played with my nipples, trying to make him squirm. He held his own, though, his left eyebrow lifting as a sly grin spread across his mouth.

“Scarlett. You can go now.” She stood up and nodded, quickly dressing. I looked from her and back to him, almost in awe at the allure of mystery he oozed. He intimidated me. I was used to men falling at my feet, but he was different. He made me feel less in control than I
needed
to be.

Scarlett scampered out of the room, leaving me alone with him. He walked over to me, his fingers running down my collarbone and over my panties. I breathed in sharply. Why did he have such an effect on me? He’d barely touched me, yet this was the most sensual experience of my entire life.

“So,” I asked, slipping my dress back over my head. “Are you going to tell me what all this was about?”

“What do you mean? You looked like a girl who was after a little fun, so I provided you with some entertainment.” He smirked. I was more turned on than I had been with almost any other guy in my life, and he had barely put a hand on me.

“Hmm, I think I was the one providing the entertainment.” I grinned. “And it looked to me that I wasn’t the only one getting a little excited.” I made a point of glancing downward.

He laughed and shook his head. “What can I say? I appreciate the female form. What man wouldn’t be turned on watching two women? But this wasn’t about me, Beth.” God, the way he said my name made my knees weak. “Let me take you home,” he murmured, reaching for my hand.

Holy mother of God
. Had he felt that or was it just me? Maybe it was the alcohol. I
was
pretty buzzed. I nodded mutely. It seemed I’d lost the ability to speak in his presence.

In the back of my mind, I told myself that letting some guy I’d only just met drive me home from a club may not have been the smartest move,
especially
after Ivan, but my mind wasn’t really in control of me right now.

If it were, it would be screaming,
“How does he know your name?”

Right at this moment, those mesmerizing brown eyes had full control over me.

Chapter Two

Beth

He pulled up outside my house, waiting for me to open the gates before completing the drive up to the front door. Thinking back, alarm bells should’ve been ringing—
this guy knew my address
—but the events of the evening were still playing over and over in my mind, and that tiny warning slipped from my thoughts like a speck of dust lost in a windstorm.

“Thanks for the lift,” I whispered, not ready to move. His head cocked to the side and he stared at me, his hand working its way over to my thigh. I breathed in sharply, my skin tingling.

Please kiss me.

I know what you’re thinking: Why the hell would she let a guy she barely knows drive her home from a bar a month after being raped? I’d be screaming the same thing at me. I honestly cannot tell you what I was thinking, only that I wasn’t thinking clearly.

This was typical Beth behavior. Who reacts to a sexual assault with more sex? Apparently, I did. According to the internet, I should be withdrawing from contact with people after an assault, but what I was feeling was just the opposite.

All my life, sex had empowered me. It gave me control over something, and I loved that. Fuck Ivan for taking that away from me. I was so desperate to cling onto that tiny thread of
me
that I’d somehow become even more sexual after the rape—if that were even possible. Only, I couldn’t do it alone. I couldn’t block out the memories without a whole lot of alcohol.

I didn’t give a damn how people thought I should behave. I used to enjoyed the feeling sex gave me, and I was obsessed with not losing that. If I lost that, then what did I have? I was stuck in a job with a manager who had raped me; I had no friends, no family, and no life. My life was a joke. I wasn’t after sympathy, and the last thing I wanted was pity. Thinking about it made me depressed, so I distracted myself the only way I knew how.

“I’ll come in with you, make sure you’re safe.”

He got out of the car and walked around to my side as I giggled uncontrollably. No doubt about it, I was drunk. I tried my best to look desirable as he helped me up the steps to the front door, catching me before I fell on more than one occasion. I’d be thinking back on this tomorrow and cringing, but I was doing a lot of that lately, anyway.

“Do you want me to tuck you in?” he asked, his smoldering eyes laughing at me. I fumbled with my keys and turned to him with every intention of glaring, but what resulted was a giddy smile.

“I’ll be fine, thank you,” I replied, tossing my long blonde hair over my shoulder. I stumbled inside as he stood on the porch, shaking his head, amused.