Page 35 of Saving Pookie

He arches a brow as an uneven smile hitches across pink lips. "You mean you've never?" He lowers his hand back to me, his smile widening. "Does this mean I'm taking your virginity?"

My cheeks must flush an embarrassing shade of red, a heat rushing through me.

"Your coke virginity," he clarifies with a chuckle that reverberates through me like the rhythm of song—the ecstasy still working its magic. Everything is intensified as if words glow, walls sing, and the smile of a straight boy is the only remedy for a chill that comes and goes as it pleases.

I pinch one nostril and snort the coke from his hand, leaving behind a messy dusting of powder. My eyes roll to the sky as a sting scratches its way through the innards of my nose, leaving a nasty chemical residue at the back of my throat. Braxton raises his hand to his mouth and laps the leftover coke with his tongue.

And to myself, I think, what the fuck am I doing?Staying up all through the night, ecstasy, coke. This isn't me... is it?

Fuck it.

Do I even know who I am? I've spent all of my early adult years trapped, living the life Cameron wanted me to live. I was his plaything, his doll. I sat at tables with the most prim and proper, and there wasn't a time I didn't feel lonely. Even in ballrooms with hundreds of people, I might as well have been a ghost.

At least the stallions see me.

At least Braxton sees me.

This shirtless hunk standing beside me sees me.

Maybe I need to allow myself to be a little reckless to figure out who the fuck I am.

Horns honk on the busy morning streets below. Honking, the official song of NYC. It's a pastime for anyone crazy enough to get behind the wheel of a car on these insane streets. I much prefer the subway.

Braxton pours four shots of tequila—not the cheap shit, either. The good shit imported straight from a trip to Mexico. He must really be aiming to impress Sienna. They all reach for a shot, but I don't. I place my elbow on the counter and drop my head into my hand, a fruitless attempt to steady myself from a new rush lighting my arteries on fire.

Braxton leans over the counter and rustles a hand through my hair. "You good, champ?"

I answer with a gentle nod, and maybe I'm not being entirely honest. I feel weird, different. It's not a bad feeling per se, but I haven't felt it before. It's terrifying and freeing in equal measures.

They all cheer to "the nights we'll remember forever," shoot their shots, and slam the glasses down on the counter, the clinks ringing through my ears.

Braxton cycles through a playlist on his phone, changes the song to a dance remix of 'What is Love,' grabs me by the hand, and pulls me from the stool to the living room. The sudden movement jolts me back to life, and I feel my hands floating above my head as I give in to the music. He turns in a slow circle, his head swaying as he reaches out for Sienna's hand. He twirls her from above until she's backed against him, grinding.

Andy approaches from behind, landing a strong hand on my waist. His touch sends a ripple of excitement through me, the promise of a quick fling where I don't need anything from him—something I can enjoy without my mind being lost in survival mode. I move my body against his, squaring my ass against the girth of his cock poking through the cotton fabric of his shorts. He lets out a muffled groan against my neck and raises his mouth to nibble at my ears.

The early morning sun glistens off the glass coffee table, blinding me with an aura of crystallized colors. The four of us dance in the harsh light of day as if we're dancing in the dark. Dirty, like nobody could be watching from the windows across the street.

I reach behind Andy's neck and pull him closer to me, reveling in the warmth of his tongue as it circles the inside of my ear. His hands swim all over me, pawing at my chest ravenously as if he can't get enough. It feels good to be this wanted.

Out of the corner of my eye, I watch as Sienna shoves Braxton onto the couch. She climbs atop him, her skirt hitched high as he takes hold of her thighs.

"I'm gonna make you feel real good, beautiful." Andy unbuckles his belt, and I can hear the leather being ripped through the belt loops of his shorts. He spins me around in a circle and gives me a rough shove backward onto the couch beside Braxton.

I shudder, the dark rooms in my mind lighting up with every time Cameron pushed me, every time he punched me. A knot tangles in my throat, dry and thick. I glance over at Braxton to steady myself. He's right here, right beside me. He won't let anything bad happen to me. Braxton pulls at the back of Sienna's hair as his tongue laps over the side of her throat, leaving a wet streak behind. She pushes him back with one hand while she drags her other over her open mouth. Her fingers crawl over Braxton's smooth chest, long pink fingernails scratching over the surface, leaving behind visible trails.

I gaze back up at Andy and force myself to reconcile that every man is not Cameron.

I suck in an elongated breath and steady myself, my breath hitching again when he pinches the top button of his shorts free. He yanks down the zipper, lets his shorts fall to the floor, and steps out of them. Then, he's wearing nothing but a black jockstrap covered in gold glitter. He glides down to straddle me, a leg on each side of mine.

And that fucking grin on his face, torn between some kind of horny fury and submissive seduction, makes my cock twitch in my shorts. He levels a hand against my throat, holding me gently as he lowers his lips to mine.

Rough, dry lips with a 'stache that scratches at the top of my lip. He pries my mouth open with his tongue, tasting of tequila and mint. He bucks his hips over my erection, moaning into my mouth with every motion.

I retreat just enough to whisper, "I've never done⁠—"

"Done what?" he questions, breathless.

"Topped."