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I’m pretty sure the answer is,He’d fuck you right here if you let him.
At one point, I tease him right back by flicking my tongue over his salty neck. He answers by pulling me against him so tightly that I can feel his erection at my thigh. He slides his own tongue into my mouth and the music kind of fades into the background. When he finally pulls back, I’m breathless and completely wet.
On second thought, fuck the games. I need more.
“Restroom,” I mouth to him. “Now.”
He smirks and nods once. I bite my lip suggestively and walk backwards off the dance floor, making eye contact with him the whole time.
The restrooms on the bottom floor are packed, dozens of women queued up for their turn. So I head up the stairs to try my luck with the bathrooms on the second mezzanine. Maybe they’ll afford us a little more privacy. Before I can even locate the bathroom, I feel his presence behind me.
Hm, he’s following more closely than I thought. Someone’s eager…
But when he grips me tight around the elbow and whips me around, my excitement turns to dread. His smell is wrong. His presence feels different. This touch promises pain, not pleasure.
Then I realize that it’s not Ruslan who followed me at all.
“Remmy!” My eyes bulge with shock.
“You look sexy.”
It’s amazing how the exact same compliment can give you two completely different reactions. Ruslan made me feel like I was the only woman in the world.
Remmy is making me feel like I’m cornered prey.
“You need to get a fucking life!”
I reach for my phone so that I can call Ruslan but Remmy slaps it out of my hand. When I reach down to get it, he twists my arm and yanks me into him.
“What the hell is wrong with you?Get off me!”
“No,” he hisses. “Not until you give me what I want.”
I would scream if it weren’t for the fact that the music is so damn loud and not one solitary soul in this building will hear me. Which leaves me with two options.
Option one: wait for someone to pass by so that I can get their attention.
Or option two—fight back.
I like the second option better.
Summoning up all my courage, I push Remmy back as hard as I can and try to race around him. He stumbles momentarily, but he still manages to grab me by the waist and reel me backwards before I can get away. Reacting blindly, I stomp down. My heel digs into the toe of his wingtips and he howls in pain.
These Prada heels may not have been made for running. But they work pretty damn well for fighting.
I take advantage of his wild hopping and kick him in the balls. I don’t even realize how close we are to the staircase until Remmy loses his balance and starts to fall.
Finally. A fight I fuckingwonfor a change.
The relief stops at my throat—right when his hand grabs a hold of my ankle. “No—!” I get the wind knocked out of me as he pulls me down with him and we both go soaring into the air above the staircase.
First, there’s fear.
Then there’s pain.
Then there’s nothing at all.
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