I’d never been so aroused in my goddamn life, not just physically, but emotionally, too. It bordered on stimulation overload. Until this moment, I hadn’t realized how numb I’d become to everything, how much my work had stolen from me. I was completely desensitized from the nonstop pain and death, because that’s what I had to be to keep from turning into a full-blown psychopath. Now I was firing on all synapses for the first time in years, and I didn’t want the feeling to end.
Lauren’s eyes were on the stage again, but I couldn’t pull my gaze from her. She sat upright in her seat, hands death-gripping each other like she didn’t trust what she would do with them if they were allowed to roam free. Pink stained her cheeks and upper chest, and every now and then her lips parted on a shaky exhale.
At least I wasn’t the only one about to implode, but knowing she was just as turned on as I was didn’t help my current situation. I wanted to grab her, drag her onto my lap, shred that flimsy excuse for a dress with my bare hands, and fucking ruin her with my cock.
For the first time in my life, I kept my desires in check. I felt dangerous, out of control in a way that made me distrust myself. The last thing I wanted was to hurt her any more than I already had.
What the fuck was happening to me right now? Sure, I liked sex as much as the next guy, and I’d watched plenty of porn, but watching live sex in a room full of other people was never something I’d fantasized about.
A groan hit my ears, and I turned my head even more, glancing past Lauren into the dimly lit crowd. It was a mistake. Because the performers weren’t the only ones enjoying their evening. I clocked a woman on her knees, her head bobbing as she blew a man. Two guys jerked each other off right next to them, and behind that pair, a petite Asian woman with lavender hair rode a giant redheaded man, reverse cowgirl style so they could both watch the show. I swiveled in my seat before we could make eye contact, but facing forward was just as bad; the couple onstage had moved to the bed.
“I need it, Steph,” the man said, his voice dropping into a growl.
“Take it, Morgan,” she told him. “Take this pussy.”
Oh, fuck.
Morgan flipped her onto her stomach and wrenched her hips up. He positioned his dick against her entrance, gripped her hips, and thrust deep. Steph let out a startled gasp that was quickly followed by a moan. And then they were moving, him shunting his hips forward, her using her hands to push backward. This close, I could see every vein on his cock, heard his balls slapping against her pussy. I even smelled it, that indistinguishable musky scent of sex.
This was going to ruin porn for me. Because how the fuck was I expected to jerk off to a video after seeing the real thing live and in person?
“You squeeze me so good, Steph,” Morgan groaned.
“You fill me so good,” she told him.
“I want another one,” he demanded, slipping a hand around her hip to stimulate her clit while he continued to fuck her. “Let me feel you come around your husband’s dick.”
My eyebrows rose at that. They were married? For some reason, I’d assumed they were just two people paid to fuck in front of a crowd. I’d never imagined that a couple in a committed relationship would want to do something like this. Not that I was judging; I’d just literally never thought about anything like this before. All of the relationships in my life were the hetero-normative kind. The mob wasn’t exactly known for its inclusivity, and in a way, I’d grown up pretty fucking sheltered because of it.
“I’m gonna come,” Steph said, her hands digging into the comforter, her spine bowing as she rocked backward.
Morgan picked up the pace, his wife’s moans gaining a keening edge. Other voices hit my ears, whispered supplications and devotions as the rest of the crowd followed Morgan and Steph into the abyss. My dick was so hard it felt like it might rip through the fabric of my pants. I was half tempted to adjust it but held back on the fear that the second I touched it, I’d end up jizzing all over myself.
“Yes, Steph,” Morgan said, slamming into her as she came. “Good. Fucking. Girl.”
Lauren whimpered beside me, and it was all I could do not to turn and look at her, not to betray the fact that I’d filed her response to praise away like I had all the other facts I’d collected over the past ten years.
“Where do you want it?” Morgan asked.
“On my tits,” his wife answered.
He pulled out of her, and she turned to face him, yanking the bodice of her dress down to her waist. Morgan stroked himself once, twice, and then he was coming, spurting semen all over his wife’s pretty breasts. The sounds of other people coming with him filled the room, and my arousal ratcheted up to an uncomfortable degree. I needed to get off, soon, or else this was going to turn into the worst case of blue balls I’d ever had in my life.
Onstage, Morgan let out one last groan and grinned down at his wife. She smiled back up at him, looking like the happiest woman on the planet, white streaking between the valley of her breasts. Hopefully she had a change of clothes backstage. And hopefully there was one hell of a janitor to clean up after this, because whatever was still happening behind me sounded messy.
Someone let out a catcall, and then everyone was cheering and clapping—everyone but those who were still moaning. Finally, as if just now realizing we were here, Morgan and Steph turned toward the crowd. I dropped my gaze but clapped along with everyone else. Watching them fuck was one thing. Making eye contact right after? That made me want to crawl out of my skin.
“Thank you,” Morgan said.
His wife echoed him, and the side door opened again. I turned my head to see a woman carrying a small stack of hand towels enter the room. It was in that split second of distraction that Lauren slipped from her seat and attempted to sneak away.
Oh, Lo, I thought. You should know better than this.
I stood from my chair and stalked after her.
The hallway outside was just as dimly lit, but her white dress popped in the darkness, calling out to me like a beacon as I pursued her. She glanced over her shoulder and picked up speed when she saw me. I gave chase, wondering what she was thinking. She certainly wasn’t behaving like a frightened woman. No screams, no calls for help, and I hadn’t missed the fact that instead of fleeing back downstairs toward the safety of the crowded foyer, she was headed toward the end of the hall and a door with an illuminated “Exit” sign above it.
“Run, Lauren,” I said, unable to stop myself. “Make it good for both of us.”
She let out a noise torn between lust and panic and broke into as much of a run as she could manage in those sky-high heels.
I let her get a good head start, let her close in on the door, let her think she had a chance to get away before sprinting after her.
She hit the handle with both palms, shoving it open and darting past. Before she could slam it behind her, I got my boot inside the frame, the steel tip protecting my foot when the door bounced off it.
“Shit,” she said, turning toward the stairs.
I grabbed her arm.
She finally opened her mouth to yell.
I clamped a hand over it and spun her, pinning her against the wall, stomach first, my body pressed against hers to keep her there. The door closed behind us, sounding like a coffin slamming shut. This close, Lauren smelled delicious, like sex and sugar, and I leaned down to nuzzle my nose against her neck, where the scent of her perfume was strongest.
“If you wanted to get me alone, all you had to do was ask,” I told her.
She muttered something into my palm that sounded highly sarcastic.
I grinned and ground my arousal into her lower back, and she squirmed against it in a way that told me my instincts were right, and she was into this, at least a little bit. No fighting. No cries for help. No further attempts to banish me back to hell.
I wanted her to be more than a little into it, though. I wanted a willing participant, and it was time to swallow my lingering pride and do what it took to get her there.
“I’m sorry, Lo,” I said. “For everything.”
My palm muffled her response.
“Are you going to scream?” I asked.
She shook her head.
I pulled my hand away, but I kept the rest of myself shoved tight, not wanting her to bolt again if she suddenly turned skittish.
“Sorry isn’t good enough,” she said, her voice low and angry, her body betraying her as she pushed back into my arousal. “I lost all my friends. People thought I was crazy. I had to change schools, Junior.”
I wrapped an arm around the top of her chest and pulled her into me. Fuck, she felt good. Warm, welcoming. Small enough to tuck her head beneath my chin. “I remember,” I said. “I thought I was doing the right thing at the time.”
She twisted in my arms and tried to shove me away, but I only held on tighter. “You ruined my life!” The words were punctuated with a fist to my chest.
“I know,” I said as another punch glanced off my shoulder, this one weaker than the first, like her heart wasn’t in it. “I wish I could go back, but I can’t. Tell me what I can do to make it up to you. Beat Principal Michaels up again? Plant more drugs on Kelly?”
She went so still it felt like she’d stopped breathing. “What?”
I shifted, rubbing the side of my face against her temple. “Come on, Lo. You never wondered how Kelly wound up facing drug charges? Or why the man who refused to punish the worst of the bullies spent that summer in the hospital?”
“I thought it was a car accident,” she breathed.
My lips skimmed the shell of her ear. “It wasn’t.”
She pushed back to stare up at me. “You did that?”
I’d done a hell of a lot more over the years, but what she didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her. “I did. It was the least they deserved. Just say the word, and I’ll do worse.”
“No, I . . . I don’t want that,” she said, sounding like she was trying to convince herself. “I don’t want anyone hurt on my account.”
“Are you sure?” I asked, smirking.
A slap to my shoulder. “Yes, psycho.”
Unable to help myself, I ground closer to her, pushing her back against the wall, knowing she could feel how hard I was. “Then tell me what to do, Lo. Tell me how I can make you feel better. You want me to confess everything online? Tell the world how much I wanted you? I’ll do it.” Another lie, but I prayed she wouldn’t call my bluff. Dad couldn’t know about this. Not yet. From his tone the other night, he was just as against Lauren and I being together now as he was when we were kids.
She shook her head. “I don’t want that either. I don’t care what anyone thinks of me, especially not the assholes from the old neighborhood.”
“Then tell me what you do want.”
She was quiet for a beat, but then a slow, evil smile spread over her face, and when she finally spoke, her voice was steady, unwavering. Determined. “I want you to grovel.”
I reared away from her. My gut reaction was to tell her to go fuck herself and then walk back out of her life. Me, Nico Emanuel Trocci, grovel? I was the one who made demands, made the rules. Who the fuck did she think she was talking to?
This is Lauren, you asshole, I reminded myself.
Still, it took me far too long to claw my way back from the brink. Goddamn this fucking temper of mine. Goddamn this pride. I was too used to getting my way. Too used to bouncing whenever something started to feel serious or the women I slept with tried to make demands. All my life, I’d kept things surface level. For good reason. I hadn’t been lying to Alec earlier; I didn’t want to do to anyone what my father had done to our mom. Didn’t want to put them at risk from my enemies or make them constantly fear for my life.
But the plan was to get away from my father. Somehow. And that would nullify all of my reasons for avoiding commitment. If I was going to do this with Lauren, really do it, I needed to start making changes. None of this half-in, half-out bullshit. I had to be fully committed her. Take my asshole younger brother’s advice and be willing to do whatever was necessary to get back in her good graces.
Because Lauren wasn’t just anyone. She was the first—and probably the only—girl I’d ever loved. And how had I treated her? Like she meant nothing to me, like she was no one. Sure, I’d done it to protect her, and I would never be sorry for that, but I’d also never forgive myself for how much I’d been forced to hurt her by doing so, and if this queen was seriously considering letting me back into her life, then groveling was probably the lightest punishment I deserved.
Taking a deep breath, I turned her back around to face the wall, whispering into her ear, “Only for you, Lo.”
And then I dropped to my knees.
