Page 86 of Midnight Curfew

“His tattoo,” a woman says somewhere close to us. “Is that a Jaeger?”

I go still, Sarai continuing to kiss me.

“You like?” another woman replies.

“He’s pretty.”

The hair on the back of my neck rises; I feel Dallas close. How the hell do they see the tattoo? It’s covered by his shirt.

“You wanna touch?” someone asks, and I think it’s Jenna Taylor and Suzanna Johnson speaking. I think I remember seeing them sitting nearby.

I try to move my lips, but sweat dampens my back.

“I wonder if that’s the one my daughter spent the night with,” another woman chimes in. “When she was home for spring break.”

“Did she say he was good?”

I dive into Mrs. MacLeod’s neck, feeling her gasp as I glare at the bitches on the couch behind her. They stare in my direction, over my head.

“She kept the details to herself,” Mrs. Taylor taunts.

“Well, I guess it’s fine if you keep something to yourself, too.”

They giggle their fucking giggles and rise, taking their drinks with them. I close my eyes, covering Sarai’s mouth with mine.

Does he enjoy that? Women talking about him as if he’s good for one thing? He’s some kind of fucking joke, I swear.

He’s not going to be shit in twenty years—hell, ten years—when he’s not the piece of meat he thinks he is anymore.

I know he’s behind me somewhere, and I know he’s baiting me. I should ignore him, stay on task, and then forget he exists once this is all over, but I can’t resist.

I’m finally having fun in here.

Rising, I pull Mrs. MacLeod up. “Come here.”

Taking her place on the couch, I guide her down into my lap, reverse cowgirl.

Gesturing to Micah, I watch him sink to his knees, taking my place between her thighs. Leaning back, I slide my hand into his hair, pressing his head to her cunt.

Gripping her scalp with my other hand, I turn her mouth to mine, counting the seconds as I resist looking up.

Jerome covers her nipple with his mouth, all three of us eating at her, her husband and Mr. Kenmont standing off to the right, watching us have fun.

Flicking her top lip with my tongue, I tip my eyes up, finding Dallas.

His jacket, his shirt, his tie…They’re gone. He stands there, his wrists secured behind his back to a steel pole, his tattoo blazing at the top of his shoulder. With his head bowed, he watches the topless attendant dressed in only a sarong dust his torso with glitter.

What the hell is he doing? Women approach, one of them pushing up on her toes to whisper in his ear. I open my mouth, going still as Mrs. MacLeod gnaws at me with her mouth, and I watch Dallas nod, softly smiling down at Mrs. Taylor.

Micah’s head bobs under my hand as he sucks on Sarai, and I watch someone else graze the back of her hand down Dallas’s stomach. Brushing over the dips of his abs, she lowers her fingers to his groin, gripping the ridge of his cock that presses through his nice black pants.

I harden under Mrs. MacLeod’s ass, moan as I slide my tongue in her mouth and kiss her hard.

Two other women circle him, touching him, fawning all over his chest. His eyes find mine, and I hold his gaze like there is an invisible thread between us as I curl my fingers into Sarai’s hair.

Then, the link is broken. Dropping his stare, he zeroes in on the back of Micah’s head, and it’s a moment before I realize Micah is massaging my legs as he eats out the girl.

I stop breathing. Dallas…