Page 65

The rest of us laugh too. It’s nothing we haven’t seen before in the decade they’ve been friends. Even after Bronx confessed that he liked men too... Riot and Golden continued to show up for him with filthy, inappropriate jokes about fucking each other.

The mood has lightened.

Only Sonatina isn’t smiling. Oh, and Lennon, whose face seems to have only two settings; wide-eyed curiosity or straight fear. Right now her innocence has her eyes as round as saucers.

“At least buy him dinner. Or give him a lap dance first,” Golden chimes in. “Before you penetrate him.”

“I’d prefer if my lap dance came from Kelsey.” Bronx’s green eyes darken as he looks past Riot to me. But then his face falls. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s okay.” My time at Scarlet was tiny in the scheme of things, and though the memories of how I became an exotic dancer and Marco finding me at the club—Heaven’s death—are painful, the dancing itself was not awful.

Getting up, I body roll my tits right into his face while I push his knees apart to make room for me to stand between them.

He hisses, like he’s a virgin to lap dances. Which is certainly not the case. Riot drops down in my vacant spot. Kodiak twists in his seat to get a better view.

I dance slowly and provocatively to the music the guys keep on for ambience. I roll my ass over his crotch, mimicking grinding without actually touching him except for my hands on his thighs.

“Holy fucking shit,” Golden says on one exhale and sits forward.

Sonatina is still next to him. She plays with her hair while acting like there is something fascinating on her phone. But I catch her glare and the ugly way her mouth twists. The same way it does when she calls me slut.

Whatever, bitch.

I turn around and straddle Bronx’s knees. Touching him but not settling over his cock. My leg keeps bumping against Riot’s instead.

“Fuck.” Bronx groans. “I’m weeping.”

Anticipation builds... though I’m not sure for what. Sonatina isn’t leaving, so it’s not like anything can happen.

Kodiak groans and my pussy clenches.

Riot’s thigh rubs against mine with every move I make. Like he isn’t making space for me to move without us touching. Like he’s actually making sure that distance doesn’t exist, despite Sonatina being in the room.

Fuck, if he touched me with any real determination right now, I would probably let him just to see how she would react. And maybe, because, as much as I hate it... I still want him to. Be determined... fight for me... choose me.

That doesn’t happen. The song finishes and I settle into Bronx’s lap for real. He’s hard and pulsing underneath me.

“Slut.” Sonatina coughs into her hand.

Behind the couch, Lennon looks like she could puke, but that look seems directed at Sonatina and not me. Is she embarrassed that her employer is so nasty?

“Why don’t you shut the hell up,” Golden tells Sonatina.

“Why should I? I’m only stating what you all know is true,” Sonatina says.

“At least I’m not a frigid bitch,” I clap back. I don’t know why that’s my insult. Except, I really don’t like calling out women as man stealers. Just... in this case it probably would have been the better option.

“I wouldn’t say I’m frigid.” She crosses one leg over the other and adjusts her tiny gold skirt. Her lips curve up as she turns on Riot. “Would you, baby?”

“I wouldn’t say you’re frigid,” he says coolly.

I put my legs between Bronx’s and sit on one knee. Fuck Riot and his tactical answer. He doesn’t get to keep touching me if his answer isn’t to tell her to go to hell.

His gaze flicks to me as I slip my hand between my leg and Bronx’s stomach. Stroke my fingernails along the hard length in my Drummer Boy’s pants.

Riot sits forward and folds his arms across his knees.

The bottle I had discarded when I got up to dance falls off the couch and onto the carpet. It rolls... and spins...