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I grin, shake my head and leave her to it.
When I step through the doors into the main bar area, I’m hit by a wall of noise. There’s obviously some sort of demonstration going on on the main stage because the area is packed and the music thumps through my veins as I make my way to the bar. The scent of sex and sweat fills my nostrils, reminding me of how much fun I had here before everything went to hell.
I’m caught off guard when a strong hand grabs my arm, pulling me towards a dark corner. My heart races as I try to pull away, but I recognise the touch. Wint, his green eyes shining with concern.
“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice low and gravelly.
I nodded, unable to form any words. The memory of Dash’s face when he confessed comes flooding back, making me feel sick to my stomach.
“It’s okay,” Wint whispers, pulling me into his embrace. His arms are strong and warm, and I feel safe in his embrace.
“Thank you,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper.
Wint leans down, his lips brushing against mine. His kiss is gentle at first, but as I open my mouth to let him in, it becomes more and more urgent. I wrap my arms around his neck, losing myself in the sensation of his lips on mine. I’ve missed this. I’m so tired of keeping the guys at arms’ length. Why should I when I still want them so badly? My time here is measured, I should make the most of it.
Wint pulls away, his eyes searching mine for any sign of hesitation. I shake my head, silently begging him to keep going. Wint takes the hint and kisses me again, his hands running down my back and pulling me closer.
By the time we break apart – startled by the sound of smashing glass – I realise that I’m technically late for work. I shoot Wint a rueful grin.
“I better get back there and help Frost before he loses his shit,” I say with a teasing grin.
Wint nods. “Of course. I’ll see you later, okay?”
“Sure.” He gives me another peck and waits for me to leave, watching my path across the room and behind the bar the entire time. It feels nice to have his protective eyes on me.
When I reach the back of the bar, Frost is scowling at me. A smile spreads across my face. This feels good. Normal.
“Don’t know why you’re smiling, Bambi.” His dark tone just makes me smile even wider. “I could give you something to wipe that grin off your face.”
“Yes please,” I reply breathlessly, batting my eyelashes at him.
His gaze darkens and the rumble of a promise passes his lips, “Later.”
Biting my lip to keep in my squeal of joy and feeling sassy and brave, I pat his chest, “Good boy.”
His pupils blow and he grabs my wrist before I can move away, pulling me tight against his chest. “Careful, Bambi. Don’t be starting something you can’t handle.”
I shiver, wishing we could abandon the bar and I could drag him to a private room and make good on that threat.
The heat is radiating off of his body as he presses even closer, his lips barely grazing the shell of my ear. My heart races at his words, but I refuse to show any weakness. I tilt my head backand look up at him through my lashes, a mischievous glint in my eye.
“Oh, Frost. I can handle anything you can dish out,” I purr, my fingers trailing down his chest before I pull away from his grip. I saunter towards the bar to serve the waiting customers, hoping he’s watching me.
As I lean against the counter, I catch Wint’s eye. He grins at me knowingly, and a warm blush creeps up my neck. I turn to complete the customer’s drink order, trying to distract myself from the smouldering intensity of Frost’s gaze.
FROST
One look. Two words. Seven innocent little letters and she decimated my control and brought me to my knees.
Good boy.
Fuck me, who is this confident siren and where the hell has she come from? There’s nothing more I’d like than to sink to my knees and tell her I’m hers to command.
I try to shake off the effect her words have on me, but it’s impossible. My eyes are glued to her figure as she struts towards me, her hips swaying in perfect rhythm to the throbbing of my cock. My heart races as she comes closer, her sweet sugary scent filling my nostrils and bringing me under her spell.
As she reaches me, she leans in close, her lips brushing against my ear. “Do you want to be my good boy, Frost?” she whispers, her voice dripping with desire.
I shoot her a dark look, unable to form any words. I hope she’s not fucking with me. I never had a partner whoknew. Who saw what I tried so hard to keep hidden. I’m not a good boy. Never have been. My role in this club has always been simple and easy to fulfil: I’m the asshole. The guy who barks instructions, roughly pushes boundaries and who gets to degrade the women who want it. My needs rarely factor in. Noone – not even my brothers – know that I’d love to turn the tables, be the one taking orders, the onebeingpraised.
