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“Suck me before you fuck me, you ugly slut.” Rothbart spat his hate in my ears and then his phlegm in my hair.
A tear rolled from my eye. I prayed it would be the last I ever shed over this freak.
“Problem, Remington?” a French voice asked, belonging to the man who stepped through the curtains, his phone still in hand—still pinging.
The hairs on the back of my neck stood up. I hated that voice, remembering it belonged to a monster with gold teeth as the sharpest memories cut through me like glass.
That first night. Him and blue suit—Mr. America and Dirty Damiano.
The night at Cedric’s, he warned me with a smile about what would come.
“No,” Remi’s voice was louder against the mic, but the word was flat, almost pained.
“So, continue. These people paid for a show. And it’ll get you back in the zone ready for tomorrow.”
“You can give him a good show, too.” Rothbart’s giant fingers pushed down on my head.
Remi began again, his eyes rolling closed. They stayed closed, blocking me out, while Llewrehtom and Joseph’s stares were glued to my ass as they helped themselves to drinks at the unmanned bar.
Cigarette smoke filled the air, Gold Teeth polluting it with something other than his existence.
My mouth sank down on Rothbart’s long cock. Up, down, up, down. My tongue moved against his length, doing everything I knew he liked.
Bite him, my thoughts encouraged. Bite him until he bleeds.
His head rolled back, unattractive grunts slipping through his lips, the blackheads along the border so close to the surface.
I inhaled his musky scent, hating it and his dirty taste.
Up and down, my mouth moved on him. His calloused grip loosened on me when my mouth moved exactly how he’d usually demand it to, my tongue flattening against his underside as my suction picked up.
He grunted again, the noise invading Remi’s song.
Remi looked our way, and I was almost sure he saw the vengeance in my glare as we connected for a second. I was almost sure he nodded in approval.
Positioning Rothbart between my teeth, I clamped down, his grunt becoming a scream as a metallic taste filled my mouth with a gush of red.
His giant fists collided with my head and body, and I gripped his balls with my teeth and dragged at the flesh like one of his starved dogs.
He couldn’t take the pain, his head dropping over the fancy wingback he sat in. I spat it on him, staining his cheap denim pants.
My body rushed to get me from the floor and to the door no one had bothered locking because we were in the middle of nowhere.
Lots of noise rattled in the room. Rothbart’s screaming, bar stools clanging against the cold floor tiles as Llewrehtom and Joseph jumped from their seats.
Rothbart screeched, demanding they catch me. Both men launched at me. A nutty scent caught up with me before either of them.
More noise sprang from behind me, another bar stool. The floor was the third thing it hit. The first and second were different body parts of Rothbart’s sons.
I froze. Heavy breaths, visible in the cold air, tapped Remi on the shoulder, and he careened to me, looking away from both the men he’d put on the floor.
His wide eyes begged something of me...forgive me. His mouth said something else. “Run.”
I bolted, yanking open the door before he forced it shut, slamming his body against it to give me seconds of a head start.
I stopped, long grass tickling my bare legs as the wind picked up.
I’d left him there in the middle of nowhere...four against one.
